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Cain saw movement in the shadows nearby and swiveled. “Come out here. Now. Don’t make me chase you.”
A boy slunk out of the darkness. Shit. It was almost like looking in the mirror from a few decades ago. Shaggy, brown hair, a long face. The kid was fourteen or fifteen, probably.
“Watch the car,” Cain said in French. “I’ll pay you well.”
“Five hundred euro,” the boy said.
Cain snorted. “Do I look like an idiot, kid?”
The boy lifted his chin. “Four hundred.”
“You get what I give you.”
The boy gave an elegant shoulder shrug. He looked too thin. “Fine.”
“What’s your name?”
The boy paused. “Bastien.”
“Good, now, Bastien, did you see Carbone leave the warehouse?”
“Non.”
“A woman? A redhead?”
“The gorgeous redhead?” The boy’s English was heavily accented. “Non. She has not come out. She gave me fifty euro when she arrived.”
Killian stepped forward. “She’s mine. And that place is empty.”
“Does Carbone have another exit?” Cain asked.
“Not that I know of,” the boy said. “I know he’s a pig. He cannot be trusted.”
“Okay, watch the car,” Cain ordered.
The boy gave him a lazy salute.
Cain watched Jet open her handbag. “Give me a sec.” She pulled something out and unfolded it.
He cocked his head. “You keep a drone in your handbag?”
“A mini drone.” She shrugged. “You never know when you might need one.”
He shook his head.
With a high-pitched whine and whirr of rotors, the drone started up. “Let me see what I can find.”
Cain saw Bastien watching avidly as the drone flew upward.
Jet hunched over her phone, swiping the screen. The drone disappeared into the night sky.
“Got it.” She smiled. “Two heat signatures inside the building. Center of the space.”
Killian growled. “It’s empty. I searched it myself.”
“Is there an attic?” Cain asked.
The other man shook his head. “Just open rafters.”
