Page 114 of Cozen

He didn’t need to.

He didn’t want to.

The private terminal at Miami International airport gave Cozen a sense of safety as she stepped off the jet. A jet that had been flown to her in New York from the Astors. She had been expected—without argument—to take the plane ride back to Miami within forty-eight hours.

Their demands, not hers.

Cozen knew better than to deny the Astors. As it was, she had already pushed their hospitality a little too far by ignoring their calls, and never responding to their messages. Whose fault was that, though?

Pearl had been the one to tell Cozen not to call back unless she had news worth sharing. Well, she didn’t have anything to tell except the fact she was just trying to get this goddamn job finished.

Unsurprisingly, Cozen found a man dressed in a three-piece black suit waiting for Cozen inside the private terminal. His ice-blue gaze looked her over as she shifted the messenger bag around her shoulders.

“Miss Taylor?” the man asked.

“Just Cozen, thanks. And you are …?”

“Not important.” Again, his gaze took her in. Not in a sexual way—Cozen gave him credit for that—but it still made her uncomfortable. “You don’t look like any thief I have ever met, pardon me for speaking. A little too sweet and innocent, maybe.”

Cozen lifted a single brow, replying, “That’s kind of the point, Mr. Not Important.”

The man laughed, and nodded. Waving a single hand as he turned on his heel, he said, “Come with me, then. I will deliver you to where you need to go.”

“I know where I’m going.”

“Shame you don’t know what will happen once you get there.”

Touché.

Soon, the two were in a black Mercedes, and navigating the busy streets of Miami. Cozen kept her gaze on the road, and her mouth firmly shut in the backseat. The man driving said very little after he realized she was not going to engage him in conversation.

She shouldn’t even be here.

She had a job to do.

Soon, although the drive was just long enough to let Cozen relax, the Mercedes was granted access to the gated, private community of Coral Cables. The sprawling estates they drove past to get to the Astor mansion and property were both large, and beautiful. A sure showcase of wealth if there ever was one. Impeccable grounds protecting massive homes.

All with a view or access to the ocean.

Cozen liked Miami, but her fondness for the beach and the ocean hadn’t come from here. It started in California, and it was going to stay there, too. She didn’t think there was enough room in Miami for the Astors, and another criminal.

They didn’t like to share.

The black Mercedes pulled in the long, winding driveway leading to the Astor estate. Eventually the driveway merged into a circular piece of asphalt that showcased several parked, luxury cars sitting in front of the mansion.

Aston Martin.

Lamborghini.

A gray Porsche with pink interior.

These cars had not been parked in front of the mansion the last time Cozen visited. And if they had been there, she didn’t notice them.

To be fair, she had been a little distracted the last time she visited. It was entirely possible that she just missed it.

“Fourth will be waiting for you in the grand entry,” the man behind the wheel said.

“Inside?” Cozen asked.