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“Shade.” Killian’s voice in his ear. “Weber’s office is on the second floor, east side. Overlooking the lake.”
Clearly Killian and Devyn had done some exploring.
“Acknowledged,” he murmured.
“Roving guards inside the house,” Devyn said. “I can’t see a set pattern to their movements.”
Shit. That meant the guards were well-trained and would be harder to avoid.
“Got it.” Cain returned to Jet.
She smiled at him. “I rocked it.”
“I heard. Ready for Stage II?”
She licked her lips. Those plump, tempting lips. “I’m not going to get any readier.”
He took her hand. He saw some guests on the stairs. He snagged the attention of one of the white-suited servers. “Excuse me, where are the restrooms?”
“Upstairs, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Cain and Jet moved up the curved stairs with their ornate, black, iron railing. At the top, he pulled her down a hall. He saw some women near the restrooms. Then Cain turned left instead of right toward the restrooms.
He pushed Jet against the wall and nibbled on her lips.
“Oh.” She gripped his arms.
“We need to look like an amorous, tipsy couple looking for some privacy. In case we’re caught.”
“Right.” She bit his lip and rubbed her body against him.
Shit. His cock responded. He had to keep some control.
“Come on.” He towed her down the hallway. There were no guards in sight.
They checked a few rooms. Nothing but empty guestrooms. Then they reached a door with a fancy lock on it. It had to be Weber’s office. Cain tested the door and found it locked. He slid a hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a lighter, then twisted it. Lock picks popped out.
“Ooh, very Bond,” she said.
It only took him a few seconds to pick the lock. He glanced down the hall again. All clear. The door clicked open, and he nudged her inside. Once they were in the spacious office, he closed the door and locked it behind them.
He crossed the space and turned on the lamp on the big, sleek desk. There were shelves on the walls, but no collectibles except for an antique globe and a hunk of black rock.
There was a large painting on the wall— a Gustav Klimt, if Cain wasn’t mistaken.
Jet skirted the desk. God, she looked so edible in that bloody green dress. She pulled on thin gloves and leaned over the computer. She nudged the mouse and got to work.
“I need a minute.” She frowned. “Hmm, his system is good. Security is top-notch.” She pulled out her phone and set it beside the computer.
“Can you break it?” Cain asked.
She shot him a pointed look. “It’s good, but I’m better.”
He grinned. “Oh, I know.”
Her fingers danced and he heard her mutter to herself.
