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Tony pushes off the doorframe, stepping closer. “But Ulianov… Do you really think he won’t see this coming?”
“He may not even be there.” I swallow. Anton could be dead. I just wish the thought didn’t hurt as much. “But whoever’s there won’t be expecting us,” I tell him, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “Plus I never told anyone about the diamond, so no one will expect me to go back for it. And they won’t find out until it’s too late.”
“Yeah, but what if theydofind out?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.Ifwe get to it. I’m good at what I do, remember?”
“Sure you are. But what if you get caught?” Carl isn’t giving up.
“Then I’ll talk my way out.”
“Scarlett,” Carl warns, his voice grave. “You know what they say about making deals with the devil.”
“Better the devil you know than the one you don’t,” I retort, finally pulling away from the window. They need to see that I’m in control, even if I’m not sure myself.
“So what’s the plan?” Carl crosses his arms over his chest and surveys me.
“I’m going in. Alone.” I can practically feel their sharp intakes of breath.
“What?! No!” Jess’s eyes are huge.
“This is my fuck-up. I’ll fix it.” My voice is resolute.
“Scarlett,” Art interjects, his fingers drumming nervously on the arm of the worn-out motel chair. “I simply don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Stealth is our only advantage,” I say, pacing back and forth across the room, running my fingers through my tangled hair. “The more people we have in there, the higher the chance that we’ll be spotted.”
“Still doesn’t make it a good idea,” Tony grumbles, a scowl darkening his face.
“Listen, if any one of you gets caught, it’s over. We all know what the Bratva can do.” My eyes lock onto each of theirs in turn, making sure they understand the gravity of the situation. “We’re not just talking about losing the diamond here. We’re talking about our lives.”
“Scarlett,” Jess pleads. “You can’t expect us to just sit here while you walk straight into hell.”
“Jess, I need you guys to trust me,” I implore, desperation creeping into my voice. “If Anton Ulianov is there…” I take a breath because part of me is praying that he is. “I know this man. I can reason with him. But if you get caught…” I shake my head. “You know what we’re up against here.”
“You canreasonwith him?” Carl’s expression is disbelieving. “Just exactly how do you plan to get that right?”
“Because I know him,” I repeat, wondering if they’re as unconvinced as I am.
“Anton Ulianov. Chief enforcer for Bratva boss Sergei Volkov for fifteen years,” Cody interrupts, reading off his phone. “Fought his way up the ranks from childhood. Blooded before he turned thirteen, the rumor mill lost count of his death toll before he hit twenty. Specialties include interrogation, torture, assassination, and generally unaliving people.” He raises both eyebrows at me. “Left the organization under some sort of cloud and then disappeared with his kid after Volkov had his wife brutally murdered. Is that the guy youthinkyou know?”
“Where did you get that?” I snap.
“Here. On the dark web.” Cody holds his phone up. “Want me to pull up your bio too?”
“Stop. Just stop.” I hold up a hand. “Look, this doesn’t make any difference. We need that stone, or we might as well just resign ourselves to being petty thieves for the rest of our lives.”
“Who you calling petty?” Art scowls at me. “I learned everything I know from the best in the business. You should know; he was your father. Red Jones was the best man I ever had the privilege of calling friend!”
“You know what I mean.” I rub a hand over my eyes. “And I don’t think that Pops expected me – or you, for that matter – to spend our days like a bunch of magpies stealing shiny things, okay? This is our chance at real lives, guys.”
Silence falls on the room like a heavy shroud, broken only by the distant hum of traffic outside. They exchange worried glances, fear and determination warring in their eyes.
“I’m the best one to go in,” I say firmly. “I know the layout already. And if they’re onto us, I’ll be the most likely to get out. That’s all there is to it.” I pray this final plea will get through to them.
“Fine,” Carl finally concedes, sighing. “But we plan this like a regular gig. You’re not going in there half-cocked, hoping to negotiate with some sicko to get out if you get caught.”
I want to tell him that Anton’s no sicko. I don’t care what some stupid website says about him. I’ve seen the man with his son. I’ve felt his touch on my skin, and—
