Page 49 of Captive Ruin

“He’s too soft.”

“Haynes, then.”

“A hammer when you need a scalpel.”

Bastien chuckles. “And you’re my knife.”

“I’ll deal with it,” I promise him. “Give me time.”

“Just don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.” Now I’ve made the commitment, and part of me wonders if Bastien manipulated me into it. It is his gift, his way. Evidently, even I’m not immune.

“Why don’t you bring that girl of yours to come and visit?”

“I’ll discuss it with her,” I say cautiously. I don’t want Amelia near Bastien right now—near anyone for that matter.

“You’ll discuss it?” He gives a dry chuckle around the words. “When do you ever discuss something with a woman?”

Pointed. Maybe fair.

“This one’s different,” I say carefully. “She’s not…”

“A doormat?” His interest piques. “Is she a challenge? Does she have some fight to her?”

“You could say that.” I don’t appreciate his questions. “Let me get going, Bastien. I have work to do.”

“I’m even more intrigued to meet her. Very well. Keep me updated.” The line clicks dead.

I stare at the phone for a moment, reflecting on how different Amelia is from Juliette. Amelia is a tiger to Juliette’s tabby.

Bastien is right. She has both fight and challenge.

I can’t wait to see her again.

The next day my contact at Sentinel has the equipment I need.

There’s a drone I use immediately, piloting it from the comfort of my nearby hotel room. It lets me scout the area around the target building, noting camera positions and blind spots. Leopold warrants a corner office, and I zoom in, recording some footage of him at his desk.

I work late, missing my usual time with Amelia’s videos, watching the building through the night. Security guards on duty every hour, fewer of them when the building empties out for the evening. A cleaning crew arrives for the late shift, dressed in coveralls with a company logo.

My drone captures it all, even their frequent cigarette breaks, and the way they brace the exit doors open with a handy chair.

I sit up straight, zooming in on that, and grin to myself.

When the cleaners finish, I’m there waiting, following one to the S-Bahn. It’s easy enough to lift his bag when his head lolls against the window. Uniform secured. I calmly step off at the next stop, and take a train back to my hotel.

I have a plan, and the tools needed to implement it. But there’s nothing to do until the following night, so I sleep late then reward myself with a check on my Little Stray.

The cameras in Amelia’s apartment are motion-activated, so during the day there’s no footage. She gets home late each evening—the middle of my night—takes a shower, makes dinner, and the time difference means I’m asleep by then. I play back yesterday’s footage over my breakfast.

Her sister is visiting again.

“—fifty rounds in this box, which is more than you’re going to need,” Lucy says. “Where are you going to put it?”

Amelia has a package open on her table, a shiny new gun in her hand. “Dresser drawer in the hallway. Right by the door for when I need it.”

It’s good that she has home defense; not so good that she may have bought it with me in mind.