“Roof-hopping?” I blink. “What are you talking about?”
“We want to spread the evidence we have across all the establishments Veronica owns.” Koen’s grin sharpens. “And as you know, there are a lot of them.”
“I want her face plastered alongside her crimes on every billboard and every screen on the Strip,” Sylus agrees.
“At least half the Strip,” Ace mutters.
I glance between them. “And what does roof-hopping have to do with that?”
Koen leans back, folding his hands behind his head. “We need access to the transmitter on top of Harrington Heights so Sylus can hijack the signal and spread the evidence to every business connected to the network. But the rooftop of the Heights is practically impenetrable.”
My stomach drops. “And how will you get up there then?”
“There’s a Lamborghini on the rooftop of the Plaza,” Sylus states.
“A Lambo?” I repeat, incredulous.
“The Lamborghini Huracán Belmont displays in a glass cage at his rooftop bar to brag to everyone that he has one of the five hundred in existence,” Ace says dryly, leaning back against the chair with a faint smirk. “And, apparently, he’d rather display it than drive it. But Koen will rectify that. Because what’s the point of a car like that if you’re not going to drive it fast.”
“Exactly.” Koen chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll put it to better use.”
“You mean you’re going to steal it?” Nicholas scoffs, crossing his arms. “And then what? You can’t just hotwire a Lamborghini on a fucking rooftop. That thing’s been up there for years. It’s probably not even drivable anymore.”
Ace shrugs. “Every so often, Belmont does a showing. Starts it up, revs the engine for the crowd.” He smirks. “Last one was a month ago.”
Nicholas exhales sharply. “Fine. But let’s say you do get it running. How the hell are you planning to get it down to the street?”
“You’re not listening,” Ace raises an eyebrow. “Who said anything about getting it down?”
“Wait…” I blink, trying to catch up, “… you’re planning to steal the car to… what? Jump rooftops?”
“Exactly. The Plaza’s rooftop bar is the only easy access point, and their roof is higher than the Heights by just enough to give us the angle we need. The Huracán can hit the speed to make the jump in seconds…” Koen pauses, a flicker of something—doubt?—crossing his face before he masks it with his usual smirk. “If we get it lined up perfectly, it’ll work. I’ll need sixty-seven miles per hour at the exact moment it leaves the ramp. No more, no less.”
“Why?” I ask like an idiot.
“Any slower, and you don’t make it across. Any faster, and the momentum’s wrong, you’ll overshoot and crash. From zero to sixty in three-point-two seconds.”
Fuck.“That’s more than risky.”
“There’s a wide-ass street between those buildings!” Nicholas snaps. “It’s not only risky, it’s suicidal.”
“And?” Sylus pipes up, leaning back with an almost-smug air. “It’s not about easy. It’s about making a statement.”
Nicholas throws his hands up. “This isn’t about statements! It’s about bringing her down. You want to throw a damn parade while you’re at it?”
“What do you think this whole plan is?” Koen’s gaze finds Nicholas’s. “A magicshow. The finale of a lifetime. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it our way. With flair.”
Nicholas rubs his temples like he’s seconds away from losing his mind. “You’re all insane.”
Sylus laughs. “Welcome to the club,Harrington.”
I cross my arms, looking between them. “So let me get this straight. You’re planning to steal one of the rarest cars in the world, drive it off a rooftop, and hope for the best? And this is supposed to be thesmartpart of the plan?”
“No hope involved,” Koen says evenly. “It’s calculated. I’ve already run the numbers. The jump is possible.”
“He’s right,” Ace agrees, but even his confidence doesn’t help the bad feeling in my chest.
“And what about landing?” Nicholas mutters. “Do you have numbers for that too?”
