“You okay?” he murmurs as I drop to one knee to remove my backpack.
I nod as I take out the robotic arm, setting the pieces on the floor. Saint will put it together while I work on the combo locks. “That was a little scary.”
“You did great,” he replies as he kneels beside me. He unpacks the drill—ironically, it has a diamond bit—that will cut through the steel of the vault. It can’t be completed until after I finish the combos since I can’t have the competing noise messing me up.
We don’t talk, both having important work to complete. I straighten, move to the vault, and flex my fingers. Stepping in close, I put my ear right near the first combo wheel and place my fingers on it. Sucking in a breath, I then let it out slowly. I don’t breathe back in. Instead, I start to slowly turn the knob while I listen, letting my fingers feel for the tiniest sensation of the wheel sticking.
In less than a minute, I have the first number, which I whisper to Saint. “Twenty-nine.”
“Got it,” he replies. He’s in charge of keeping up with the numbers. Three wheels, three numbers each. I can’t hold all those in my memory and keep focused.
My lips curl slightly at how good a team we make.
I move on to the next number.
♦
It takes me almost eighteen minutes to crack all three combos. Another three minutes for Saint to drill through the vault while I calibrate the robotic arm and make sure it’s a solid connection to the small TV screen I’ll be watching. I manage my best time yet at removing the magnetic plate—forty-four seconds—which I think is a testament to the fact I work best under pressure.
Even though we’ve done everything perfectly so far while operating on the best intelligence we could have hoped for by having an inside man, it’s still incredibly nerve-racking when I depress the lever to open the vault door and start to pull it open. We have no clue if there’s an added security measure inside we don’t know about, and Saint and I are prepared to flee if need be.
Instead, we’re met with a soft whoosh of air as the interior depressurizes, then we’re treated to the sight of over a hundred metal lockboxes filled with precious gems.
Pulling out our lock-pick guns, we both start the process. The boxes pop open easily. It takes me emptying the first four boxes before the brilliance of the gemstones stops dazzling me. Mostly diamonds… but there are stones in every color of the rainbow and some elaborate pieces of jewelry.
We don’t bother checking loose stones as they won’t be chipped, but Saint runs the scanner over every piece of jewelry to see if it’s been marked with a GPS unit. He pulls the chips off every necklace, bracelet, and earring he finds with the exception of a diamond-and-ruby necklace that has multiple layers. The GPS unit is sophisticated and small, and he deliberately leaves it on. It’s how the police will be able to find Mercier later. Saint makes sure it goes to the bottom of the nylon bag, so it’s not easily accessible after we hand over the loot.
It takes us about an hour to make it through the boxes, with both of us working as quickly as possible. I’m pouring sweat by the time we empty the last box into our backpacks, which are stuffed full.
Unbelievable… four hundred million euros reduced to two nylon backpacks with two wily thieves to carry them out.
Finally, Saint pulls out the bubble protector jammer thingy Bebe built, then hits the first of two buttons on the side. A chime sounds, and a steady red light illuminates on the top. That supposedly means the GPS signal is now currently jammed. Saint will remove that once we get close to the chateau.
We’ll leave the remainder of the GPS chips right where we piled them as we removed them from the jewelry. It won’t stop the cops from trying to track the loot. They’re going to hope the thieves missed one. And, of course, they’ll be delighted to find one still working. As long as Mercier doesn’t have better tech than we do, the cops should follow the trail straight to his chateau to find him in possession of it all. By then, Saint and I should be long gone—if all goes well. I try to fight off the hoard of butterflies trying to take up residence in my belly. This is not the time to let nerves get the best of me.
“You ready?” he asks, glancing up.
I am. Backpack on, belt in the front pulled tight so it doesn’t move. The trip out of the vents back to the roof will be tight.
When I nod, he smiles.
We’re in the home stretch now, but I don’t let myself feel the giddiness that comes after a completed job. Not yet. We still have to make it out of here—not to mention the hand off with Mercier…
Saint and I move swiftly across the warehouse floor to the front staircase, then back to the office that holds the air vent that is our escape route. We don’t spare a glance at the sleeping guard we left behind, and we don’t bring any of our tools. Our fingerprints have been protected by gloves. Nothing can be traced, and we don’t care if they learn our trade secrets. This is our last job, and retirement beckons us forward.
Saint has me enter the vent first, and I shimmy my way through it. When we exit onto the roof, I get that first rush of joy that we’re close to pulling this off. Even though I’m leaving this life behind, I have a moment of self-pride over what I’ve accomplished, because this will be the biggest heist of all time.
We cross the roof, jump to the safety of the one beside The Diamond Warehouse, and then head down the exterior fire escape that leads into the back alley. We stick to the shadows as we maneuver almost six blocks away to where we’d parked our car in a dark back alley beside a dumpster.
Saint hurries to the driver’s door while I go to the passenger’s side. We both shrug out of our backpacks, open the doors to get in, and take a moment to look at each other over the car roof.
I grin, the giddiness hitting me hard now.
Except… Saint doesn’t smile back.
Instead, his face is almost sorrowful.
His eyes never leave mine, not even when I sense someone directly behind me. Whatever that presence is… whoever it is… Saint doesn’t pay it any mind, and yet… I know someone is there.
For a split second, we stare at each other. I’ve already realized there’s nowhere for me to go—no room to maneuver or fight. When I feel the slight pinprick in my neck, everything becomes instantly clear. Saint doesn’t acknowledge whoever is behind me because he’d been expecting this. As I start to lose consciousness, I realize my part in this heist is over because Saint declared it so.
CHAPTER 25
Saint
Cruce pulls the needle out of Sin’s neck. It’s a dose that won’t keep her down long—just enough to get her a few hours away from Paris.
I’ll never forget Sin’s face as she looked across the car’s roof. Ecstatic joy melting into an awareness that something was wrong—that something ominous was about to happen—and then pure betrayal as she realized what I’d done to her.
As she realized I’d made the decision to take her out of the game without giving her any choice in the matter.
Some would say—well, Sin would say—I did this as a means to get even with her for doing the same to me all those years ago. I disagree. I have no need to seek revenge against the woman I love. I did it for the same reasons she did, because I want to protect what’s mine.