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“Bringing him in—are you sure that’s wise?” Lane grabs his bag and tosses it over his shoulder.

I shrug and point to the safe, the diamond is back where it belongs. “If I keep that from him, he’ll question why the second he finds out. He can help me track down Cort and his Russian friends. While he’s tied up with that, I’ll figure out Trent’s angle. There are too many variables that don’t line up. Best to keep him busy and out of my hair.”

Lane chuckles. He’s heard me bitch about the man enough times. “I’ll ring when we get to Oxford.”

“I appreciate it. Don’t need another headache to deal with. I’ve got enough shit here to dig through.”

We head for the service door. I wait for Lane to take the stairs before buzzing Silas up through the back entrance. It’s a risk. If Trent finds out I let his son help me, there will be consequences.

Which is why he won’t.

Bear is seated next to me when the lift opens. A low growl rumbles in his chest. He’s never liked Silas.

Dogs are superb judges of character. They read people in ways we can’t. With his training, he picks up everything—body language, scent, the things men try to hide. If you’re guilty, there’s no way of talking your way out of it.

He won’t be fooled.

Silas rolls his eyes when he spots Bear. “Why does he hate me so much?”

I pat Bear on the head, releasing him. He stands, still growling, and steps forward. “Go on. Give him a sniff.”

“Give me a sniff?” Silas lifts an eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the air.

“Yep. Someone was here that shouldn’t have been. Was it you?”

“No.” He folds his arms, displaying he’s pissed I’d even suggest it. “I’ve been here before, but not in over two years.”

With an angry huff, Bear loses interest and retreats inside the penthouse.

“What does that mean?” He watches my dog claim his spot outside the gallery and lie down.

“It means you’re telling the truth and I don’t get to shoot you.” I signal for him to follow. “Now, let me show you what I found.”

“Shoot me? You would’ve shot me if he’d signaled I was lying? What would he have done?” Silas keeps his gaze fixed on Bear as we walk past, a low, steady growl rumbling from deep within my dog’s chest.

“He would’ve attacked you. Taken you down just long enough for me to draw my gun.” A heavy statue, like a sentinel, leans against the gallery door.

Silas sighs, looks down at the floor, and rubs his face. “Fucking hell, Aiden. That thing is worth as much as your Jaguar. It’s not a door jamb.”

I spin on my heels and stare at the twisted metal Lane and I dragged across the room. “I don’t understand rich people. What is it, even?”

“Art. It’s bloody art and Alma would be appalled.” He walks inside and whistles. “Where the hell is everything?”

“Gone, it seems.” I state the obvious.

“Gone?” He stands in the middle of the room and spins. “Are you saying someone stole Alma’s art? All of it?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out. I mean, how they did it, not if. Clearly. And who, of course, although I have a few theories.” I stand in front of the wide-open floor safe and motion for him to join me.

“You can help me with that later. First, this.” Bending, I reach down and retrieve the diamond.

As soon as he sees it, he forgets about the missing art. “He lied to us.”

“Seems like it.”

Silas moves closer, his eyes scanning the contents inside. I watch, drawn in by the intensity of his focus. His head snaps up, his gaze meeting mine, and the same dawning recognition flickers across his face.

“Did you tell him what you found?”