Page 117 of Cozen

“So says anyone who wants to live or be paid,” Fourth returned. “Make of that whatever the fuck you want, Cozen.”

Point taken.

“Be that as it may,” Cozen said, “I was still put in a job that has no visible mark.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The ring. The thing you think should be so fucking easy to steal, Fourth. My mark, next to Jett. You tell me the ring is with Jett—it has to be with him because of your aunt, or whoever the fuck.”

“It is with Jett,” Fourth replied, cocking a brow. “We’ve had eyes on the ring before we contacted you—he has it, no question.”

“Then where?” Cozen shot back. “Because my mark is invisible. I have been through that man’s house, in his life for a while now, and not once have I seen it, and he’s never brought it up. The Astors put me in an impossible job. You want me to steal something that I can’t see, haven’t found, and don’t even know if it actually exists!”

Fourth straightened a bit, and his jaw tightened. She could see in his dark eyes how her words pissed him off, but like all men in his position and of his standing, he was a force to be reckoned with. A pillar of strength, calm, and violence … but only when provoked.

Cozen knew better.

Still, she held her ground.

“You’re telling me that you haven’t even gotten eyes on the ring yet?” Fourth asked.

“I am trying.”

“Try harder.”

Fuck him.

Cozen knew how people like the Astors could be. Excuses were not wanted, appreciated, or accepted in any form. All they needed was for their jobs to be done, and done well. They wanted what they wanted, and nothing less would do.

It didn’t matter how many times Cozen explained that this job was not simple. This heist was not like almost every other job she had taken on as a thief. With an invisible mark, a man far too enamored with her, and no real chance yet to steal something she couldn’t even fucking see … this job was entirely abnormal.

Everything that should make her take a wide step back, and say it was impossible. Never going to be done, at least not her way.

She knew just by looking at Fourth Astor that no matter what she said, there was no way in hell the Astors would release her from this job. They wanted their ruby back—they figured she was already in, and now it was just time to ramp up the heat on her a little bit.

More pressure, so to speak.

Pressure worked for everyone.

“Pearl doesn’t want to speak with me, I assume?” she asked.

“My great-grandmother is not well lately. Pneumonia, it seems. Usually she bounces right back from illness, but this time, it’s hanging on strong. At her age, that can be a very dangerous thing. As you should know.”

Finally, Cozen got it.

A light switch went off. All of this made much more sense, now. This whole show could be summed up in Pearl Astor’s sickness, and her family’s concern about it.

“That’s why my time is shortened, isn’t it?” Cozen asked quietly. “Not because you are impatient to get the ring back, or you think I am taking too long to get this done, but because she might be running out of time.”

“I promised her that she would have the ring back.” Fourth shrugged, and his smile faded as he added, “And you will make sure she gets that gift. Two weeks—don’t make me come find you, Cozen.”

Cozen sucked in a sharp breath as the plane touched down to the tarmac. It was always the freakiest part of flying for her—it didn’t seem to matter how many times she had flown, either. Her heart would still lurch, and her fingers still grasp tightly to the arm rests on the seat to give her a sense of stability. Not that holding onto the seats would help if the goddamn plane crashed.

It wouldn’t.

It was another twenty minutes of taxing into New York’s LaGuardia Airport before Cozen was allowed to deplane.

She was hoping that the fact she had left on a Saturday and returned on a Sunday evening meant Jett wouldn’t have noticed her missing—or at the very least, he wouldn’t have gotten concerned.