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“You should be taking this seriously,” he says sternly. “Your father’s life is on the line.”
I tuck my knees up against my chest, a bitter taste washing over my tongue. “I know. But if I don’t crack a joke every now and then, I’ll…” I roll over to face away, squeezing my eyes shut. I chew on the inside of my cheek and ignore the sting of tears.
Gabriel’s right. I need to take this seriously. Idotake this seriously. But the more I dwell on the gargantuan task ahead, the more my anxiety chokes the breath out of me. I know what the stakes are. Success is the only option. If I fail…
“I’m going to take a five-minute nap,” I mumble against my pillow. “We’ll get started when I wake up.”
I’m out like a light before I get to hear his response.
Chapter 13
Raquel
When I open my eyes, the orange-red glow of the setting sun seeps in through the sheer curtains. I shoot up in bed with a gasp.
Shit.
That was definitely more than a five-minute power nap. How much time have I wasted because my stupid body couldn’t keep up?
I look down to find a blanket draped over my body. Gabriel must have covered me up while I was asleep. My heart thuds loudly in my chest at the thought of him taking the time.
“Gabriel?” I call out.
“Sleep well?”
I find him sitting by the window, a laptop and several documents laid out before him on the glass coffee table. He’s shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to just below the elbows, exposing his strong forearms and thick wrists. It looks like he’s been working for hours, diligently compiling and sorting through mountains of information.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I ask, hopping out of bed to make my way over to him.
“Tried. Did you know you snore in your sleep?”
“I do not,” I grumble, partially mortified. I jump over the back of the loveseat and plop down next to him, inspecting his workstation.
“Yes, you do,” he says, opening yet another tab. “Like a damn chainsaw.”
He’s got at least twenty of them open, most of them news articles featuring our favorite eccentric arms dealer. Despite his illicit activities and dangerous reputation, the man apparently loves making a splash.
“What have we got so far?” I ask, shifting through some of his papers.
“He’s got a property a few miles from here,” Gabriel explains. “A private castle villa where he spends his winters. He’s really into snow sports. There were rumors that he wanted to buy an entire mountain so he could go alpine skiing in private.”
“Crazy son of a bitch,” I grumble.
“Seconded.” Gabriel continues to type, his fingers flying over the keys. “I stumbled across this article—” he says, pointing at the screen “—about how Van Straus awarded a multi-million-dollar contract to Midas Security Ltd. a year ago.”
I frown, recognizing the name. Midas Security is basically the equivalent of having a guard dog chained in your front yard. The crew and I ran into them a handful of times, and each time has proven to be a giant pain in the ass. Their security personnel officers are incredibly well-trained, most of them having been hired due to their military backgrounds. We’re talking Navy Seals, British SAS, Israeli Mossad, all dangerous and extremely capable.
“Crap,” I mumble.
Gabriel brings up a couple of recent photos of Van Straus. He’s in a flashy white suit with so many fat gold chains around his neck that it’s a miracle he can even move with all the extra weight. On all sides, he’s flanked by mean-looking fuckers, none of them bothering to hide their pistols.
“He likely has round-the-clock protection,” Gabriel says.
“That’s fine. It’s not Van Straus we’re after,” I point out. “What I need is a blueprint of his winter home. I doubt he’ll skimp on perimeter security, but if we play our cards right, we’ll be able to slip in and out with the vase before we even have to worry about going toe-to-toe with his team.”
I take his laptop straight off his lap and place it on my own. Gabriel doesn’t protest, leaning in a bit closer to watch over my shoulder. I hold my breath and try not to let myself be distracted by the warmth of his breath so close to my ear. Right now, I mean business.
I manage to find an old listing for Van Straus’ property. I grin widely when I find many of the interior pictures. It’s my first glimpse of the inside. By the looks of it, there are five floors and three stone towers that pinch off with sharp points. There are almost thirty rooms, one massive grand foyer, two fully-renovated kitchens, an indoor pool, and—
