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“He’ll have a sleeping cell, bars, locks.” Jesse gestured helplessly. “That’show they keep us safe. Breaking in defeats the whole point.”
“We don’t know that. Maybe the vulnerable-in-the-day thing is actually bullshit. Maybe it isn’t. Either way, I’m gonna find out—and I’m gonna film it.”
Jesse shook his head and stood. “You’re nuts.”
“Because I’m invested in the truth?”
“Because you’re willing to risk your life for hits on TikTok or YouTube,” Jesse said. “It’s not worth it.”
“A thousand quid, Jesse. I know you need it.”
“Not that bad. Get someone else.”
“There is no one else,” she said. “I know you can do a B&E, Jess. You’ve done it before.”
“That was years ago,” Jesse snapped. “I was a stupid kid.”
“Takes someone pretty smart to break into the art gallery the same time they’ve got a Matisse on display.”
“I wanted to see the bloody painting,” he said. “If they’d just let me buy a ticket like everyone else—”
Trixy slapped an envelope on the arm of the sofa. “Five hundred now.Sevenmore when it’s done—and I’ll do your next tattoo for free. Come one, Jesse. What do you say?”
“I say you’re crazy…as usual.”
“Can you really look me in the eye and tell me you’re not in the least bit curious?”
The image of Emory Von Magnusson rose in his mind—the broad shoulders. The deep, intense gaze, the sharp, white teeth.
Trixy was grinning at him.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and grabbed the envelope. “Fine.Fine. I’ll get you into his bloody house. But I still want to be paid if he kills you.”
Trixy stood, chuckling. “I’ll put it in my will. Don’t worry.” She planted heavy kisses on both his cheeks. “Thanks. You won’t regret it.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
She lifted the tequila bottle. “Wanna drink until you do?”
Jesse sighed and shrugged. “Sure.”
Chapter Three
When Jesse steered Trixy’s van toward Askham Moor over a week later, the situation still didn’t feel any more real. Jesse’s head and devices were crammed with blueprints, codes, applications and back-up plans, and while the part of his mind that was on the job was steady and methodical as ever, the part of it that held the memory the Undying Baron was roiling with unease.
He snuck a glance at Trixy. A beanie hid her blue hair, and her face was young-looking without the black lipstick and painted-on eyebrows. She was grinning from ear to ear as she clicked through the settings on her action cam.
“You’re far too excited about this.”
“Too right, I’m excited,” she said, slotting the camera back into his chest strap. “We’re making history today.”
“Or a huge mistake.”
She beamed at him. “You’re too good to make mistakes.”
He repressed a reluctant smile. But when he turned onto a narrow lane signposted as the delivery entrance to Oswald House, all traces of his amusement fled.
“Here we go,” Trixy said as they drove up to the gate. “Ready?”
