Page 80 of Goose

I reached for his knee and rested my hand there. “I manipulated his safe.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” His brows knitted together. “Manipulated?”

“I cracked his safe,” I said.

He returned a puzzled look. “Like, turned the dial and opened the door?”

“Pretty much.”

“You knew the combination?”

“I didn’t.” I drew a long breath and then let it out. “I figured it out, though.”

He coughed out a laugh that nearly brought him to tears. Tears that I imagined were a result of frustration. “You’re fucking serious?”

“My father was a locksmith, and a master at safe manipulation. He taught me. He could manipulate a lock in minutes. For years, he held the world record on manipulating a four-number combination lock.”

He laughed. This time without nearly crying. “There’s a world record for that?”

I nodded. “There is.”

“How long did it take you to crack it?” he asked.

“Fifteen minutes. Give, or take.”

“Holy shit,” he said.

I grinned a guilty smile. “I’ve got a gift.”

“I’d fucking say so,” he said. “That’s impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“What was in it?” he asked.

Showing him would fill him with the same elation I felt when opening it. “How about I just show you? After we’re done talking?”

“That’ll work.”

He turned to face the beach. He rubbed his head with his palms. Frantically. After a moment, he glanced over his right shoulder. “How’d you find out about this guy?”

I knew it would come down to that. This is where things got sticky. Porter told me about the job in confidence. Because he trusted me. I had no idea that he was planning the heist with a group. He hadn’t mentioned being part of a group, club, or crew. After his death, I looked at the job as available.

Furthermore, he hadn’t told me about everything. He mentioned the city, what the man did for a living, and the size of his home. It required a considerable amount of work and research on my part to find him.

Telling Goose how I learned of the job would go against the very code that I’d just sworn to uphold.

“I can’t say,” I said. “The certain someone who told me was one of us. A thief. If I divulge that information, it will go against the very code that I just swore to uphold.”

His lips pursed. He looked away and then met my gaze. “Did that certain someone tell you about it in the diner?”

I considered his question for a moment and found no harm in answering it. “He did.”

He nodded. “You were of the opinion it was a solo project?”

“I was.”

His gaze fell to his feet. “Fair enough.”