7. Emmett

Chapter 7

Emmett

Jenn blanched when she checked her laptop bag. She’d seen something that said my suspicions were right—her room had been broken into.

But who?

She was working for Massimo De Rosa, even if only for a week, which meant my top suspects were his staff, an enemy, or hell, it could have been law enforcement. Someone was looking for information from her.

Wrapping my hand around hers, I tugged her gently away from the desk. My team was on the way, and they’d take care of things.

“My sketch?—”

I placed a finger against her lips, and her eyes widened. A cursory check around the room hadn’t revealed any listening devices, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. If I broke into someone’s room for intel, it would be to take something, photograph something, or plant a bug. Leaving everything so tidy meant they didn’t want her to know they’d been there. And that meant they either had the photographs they wanted or had hidden a bug.

She drew closer as we walked toward the door, wrapping her free hand around my arm. She was afraid, probably confused, and all she had was me.

‘Your father betrayed his country. I bet you’d do the same to Jenn.’ Mr. Thatcher’s words crowded my brain, but I pushed them aside, like I’d been doing since I was fifteen. My father had raised me properly for the first decade, despite being a traitor, and Mr. Thatcher had simply joined a chorus of critics who judged me for my father’s actions.

But today, I had higher priorities than my ghosts.

When I opened the door, Rav, Drew, and Jayce filed in. They’d been waiting, knowing better than to make any noise like knocking. The former soldier, spy, and thief nodded as they passed us, while I took Jenn into the hallway to wait.

They’d sweep the room for any hidden microphones or cameras. Depending on what they found, they’d remove the devices, deactivate them, or leave them in place. Cameras would be removed, since they would have spotted me.

But microphones? If there were any in the bathroom where Jenn and I had talked, they’d all need to go—whoever planted them would know we’d found them. But anything else might allow us to trace them back to a monitoring station.

Jenn sagged against the wall and pressed her palms over her eyes.

There’d be questions soon. I’d reacted the way Mum had taught me to—identify all plausible scenarios, determine the most likely ones, and mitigate the risks. In this case, the biggest risk was a person in the room. Finding none, I assumed a trap. Third, maybe it was an intel-gathering job. A simple break-in was the last item on my list.

Jenn didn’t know what Reynolds Recoveries really did. Sure, she knew we recovered missing items and delivered valuables from place to place. But we were more than that. An expert heist crew that recovered stolen items for their rightful owners. Advanced tech, infiltration specialists, spies, and investigators. Our vault specialist was a safecracker. Our art appraiser was a forger. Our cybersecurity team was a group of hackers.

And I’d let her catch a glimpse of that.

I pulled her hands down and kept my voice to a whisper. “Was there something wrong with your laptop bag?”

“It’s just for sketches,” she muttered. “Flowers, buildings, faces, hands. It’s nothing important.”

What did that mean?

“The book in my bag.” Her chin quivered as she spoke. “It was in the wrong position.”

That settled it. Someone had targeted her.

I gave her an easy smile, an attempt to calm her nerves. “Let’s go upstairs to my room while the team works. I don’t want to bother the other guests with our chatter.”

She shuddered more than nodded, and we walked in silence to the elevators, then rode up to the fifth floor. Hand-in-hand, we made our way to the two-bedroom suite I shared with Rav. Our room was safe, clear of bugs. We always swept our rooms for listening devices before settling in and used entry detectors to keep out anyone who didn’t belong.

Inside our suite, the two bedrooms were to the right, down a small hallway with a closet and a bathroom. I guided her to the left, to the sitting room, so we could talk. The room was casually luxurious. A delicate chandelier with over a hundred tiny lights, like spun gold, hung over the round table that would be perfect for cards or dining. A low, multi-tiered table sat between the two full sofas in soft brown velvet, with another chandelier above it.

The outside wall was all floor-to-ceiling windows. A wide door led to the terrace, with its thick stone balustrade and seating for two. Jenn lowered herself onto the edge of the sofa, staring out at the terrace and the view of the Mediterranean beyond.

I sat next to her. “Rav and the team will be up in a few minutes.”

She continued staring out the window. “What are they doing?”

“Sweeping the room.”

“Sweeping?”

“Have you noticed anyone suspicious while you’ve been in town? Or while you were in Nice?”

She let out a small laugh. “Eccentric, maybe. The man I delivered the painting to in Nice was an odd duck.” Her hands rose to her eyes again. “I don’t understand any of this.”

Talking wouldn’t fix anything for her. She’d fallen into a world she didn’t understand—my world.

She needed a distraction. I’d deal with the team’s results when?—

The front door opened, and Rav appeared around the corner. He inclined his head toward the bedrooms.

“Jayce?” I called.

The diminutive thief stuck her head around Rav. “Yeah?”

I flicked my gaze intentionally from her to Jenn and back again.

Jayce scrunched her nose. She knew I wanted her to comfort Jenn and keep her company while I talked business with Rav, but Jayce wasn’t the touchy-feely type. At least, not with those outside of her tiny circle of friends. “Drew?”

“Yes?” came her boyfriend’s voice from further away.

“Emmett needs us.” Jayce strolled into the room and hopped onto the sofa opposite us.

Drew followed her in, a mask of empathy on his face. The former spy wasn’t particularly touchy-feely, either, but he had a talent for dealing with people. When I stood, he took my spot and introduced himself. His voice was soft, and he started with simple questions—how did she know me? What brought her to Monte Carlo?

He already knew the answers to these questions. But they were what Jenn needed.

I joined Rav outside his bedroom.

The big man pushed his dark hair from his forehead. A muscle ticked in his jaw—which usually only happened when Scarlett was doing something dangerous. “Two bugs. One was obvious—attached to her bedside table, and it squawked when we got close with the sweep. The other was inside a drawer and didn’t make a noise.”

Shit. That was worse than I’d been expecting. “One designed to be found.”

“And to lull you into a false sense of security so you don’t catch the second.”

Jenn may have been one of Scarlett’s best friends, but Rav had also been one. Scar had her boys, and she had her girls—two separate sets of friends, but all close enough that Rav knew Jenn better than I did.

He didn’t have the same fierce protectiveness with Jenn as with Scarlett, but from how his biceps flexed when he folded his arms, it was obvious he was furious over this. “She needs to go home.”

I slid a hand into my pocket, running my thumbnail over the edge of my poker chip. “We need to figure things out before we make any decisions.”

“Two, Emmett.” He unwound one arm long enough to flash two fingers at me, then re-crossed the arm. “Two bugs.”

That fact wasn’t lost on me. But there were also too many questions. “Could be mistaken identity. Someone could have been spying on whoever was staying in the room before.”

“Or she’s the target?”

“You’re right.” I sighed and glanced over my shoulder, listening. Drew and Jayce were still talking to Jenn. Regardless, I kept my voice low. “We have to assume she’s the target.”

“Ideas on who?”

I had two obvious choices. “De Rosa’s the first and easiest guess. They knew she’d be at the gallery, so the timing’s perfect.”

“That makes sense.”

I didn’t want to state my other guess. Didn’t want to give voice to my concerns that this job was a setup. Or that I worried Jenn would suffer like I had—as a pawn.

“You suspect Fenix is involved?”

Gripping the chip in my pocket, I nodded. We were one week away from the four-month anniversary of my kidnapping by the Fenix Group. They’d taken me to force Scarlett’s hand in a theft. She and the Reynolds team had flown to England on a moment’s notice to rescue me despite the danger they put themselves in.

“Then she definitely needs to go home.”

“And what if it is Fenix?” Sickness twisted in my gut. “What if they want to use her for leverage this time? They followed me to New York to grab me. Why wouldn’t they follow her home and take her from there?”

“You’re overreacting.” Rav’s gaze softened as he glanced toward my left pants pocket. Did he know the truth? “You haven’t continued with therapy, have you?”

I let go of the chip and folded my arms, mirroring him.

Therapy was a waste. I needed time, and I needed to do my job. Those were the things that mattered. Talking around the truth solved nothing. “They’ve only messed with our team in the past, but they’ve seen Scarlett mobilize to save someone she cares about.”

Rav’s nostrils flared, and danger flashed behind his eyes. “He wouldn’t dare.”

Scarlett’s ex-fiancé—a Fenix captain—was behind my kidnapping. His team almost killed half of ours in Rome. Then tried to kill Jayce and Drew in Washington.

And he’d also been the one to tip us off about the scarab.

“You’re probably right—I’m overreacting. Even if Noah was setting us up for the scarab job, there’s no way he’d know Jenn would be here.”

“If Noah lays one hand on her?—”

“You’ll have to get in line, Rav.”

Rav’s gaze slipped past me.

Drew said, “There’s something you need to hear.”

I turned to see Jenn and Jayce standing with him at the end of the hall.

Jenn clutched her arms across her chest, as though protecting herself. “The painting I’m working on for Massimo De Rosa? I followed his conservator’s notes, which didn’t match the actual painting. Aunt Penny thinks… I think the one I’m cleaning is a fake.”

That could explain things. If De Rosa was attempting to pass off a fake, he might want to spy on her progress and any communications she had in her room to ensure she wasn’t on to them. Not a quarter as dangerous as Fenix being behind it.

“Drew suggested I back out of the project, but I…” She raked her teeth over her bottom lip.

Jayce rolled up on her toes, all the sitting and standing still likely driving her mad. “She had a video chat with this hottie art conservator?—”

Drew’s eyes rolled heavenward.

“Not as hot as Drew, of course.” She winked at him, and he shook his head in faux irritation. “He thinks Jenn’s on to something and suggested some quick tests to confirm whether it’s the real deal or not, and then some next steps if it’s a fake.”

“Drew mentioned Reynolds Recoveries and…” Jenn let out a small laugh, giving her head a tiny shake, as though she could hardly believe what she was saying. “The conservator’s wife knows Scarlett. She offered to fly out and help.”

How would this play out? Send Jenn home and risk someone going after her when she didn’t have anyone to protect her? Let her go back to the De Rosa Gallery and risk... What? Where was the risk? That someone might take her from there? That Massimo and Dante were involved in the stolen art trade? We already suspected that, since they had the stolen scarab.

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” said Jenn. “The tests are simple, and if they prove it’s a fake, I’m sure Massimo would want to know. He and Dante have been so nice to me.”

Dante , I growled inwardly.

“I’d like to confirm this for them. And if I’m wrong, I can just finish the job they hired me for.”

“You should go home.” Rav stepped around me, finally unfolding his arms. “Cancel the contract. They can find someone else.”

Relief washed over me. The forceful approach would only make Jenn more determined to stay, which aligned perfectly with my instincts.

Jenn’s lips thinned. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” I said. “And you’re staying here.”

“That’s what I said.” Confidence—whether true or manufactured—radiated from her. If nothing else, her stubbornness was winning over her nerves.

“I mean here. In this room.” I scratched my short beard. This was my stupidest idea, but it would keep her safe and keep me up-to-date on everything. “With me.”

Everyone’s confused stares turned to me.

“I don’t want you staying by yourself, in case whoever it was comes back.”

She spluttered. “If I need to stay with someone, I can stay with Jayce.”

Jayce snorted a laugh. “Drew and I have a one-bedroom suite, and we’re not sharing.”

“But I could—” A ring came from the sitting room, and Jenn took off, calling over her shoulder as she ran. “That’s my phone. Dr. Ferraro’s calling back with more details.”

Rav must have silently ordered Jayce and Drew to go with her because they followed in sync. I started after them but collided with Rav’s outstretched hand. “Scarlett will kill you.”

“Why?” I looked up at him, the few inches he was taller than me.

He raised his eyebrows, and I finally caught what everyone else had been eyeing me about.

“Oh shit, Rav!” I swatted his hand away. “I didn’t mean in my bed. I meant we shuffle you into another room, and she takes yours. My room’s closer to the entrance, so I can ensure she stays safe.”

“You’re still having nightmares.”

How did he know? I hadn’t told him about the nightmares since the one time I went to see his shrink.

“I heard you last night.”

Fuck. “I have sleeping pills?—”

“Which you can’t take. If you do, you’ll be useless should anyone come for her.” Rav was always so fucking reasonable. “Why don’t we shuffle you to another room so she can stay with me?”

“No.” Why did that word come out of my mouth so fast?

“No?” He raised his eyebrows again, suspicion dripping from his single word.

It made more sense for Rav to protect her. Security was his job. I had so much else I was supposed to do in Monte Carlo —figure out where the scarab was, determine if Massimo would sell it, and prove I was over my kidnapping in April.

Shacking up with a woman might have been a fun distraction after we had the scarab, but this was Jenn. And it was during our op.

Rav was right. Scarlett would kill me if she thought anything was going on.

I’d kissed Jenn once, when we were teens. She’d been my first crush, the first girl I’d told was pretty.

One stolen, secret kiss. A clumsy thing, but one of the best I’d ever had. Because it was her. Her cheeks had flushed, but she’d smiled at me like nothing else in the world mattered.

‘Who do you think you are, putting your hands on my daughter?’

It was the only kiss we ever shared. I avoided her for months afterward, and Scarlett didn’t hide how I’d hurt Jenn. Maybe I should have told the truth about what happened with Jenn’s father. Scarlett might have forgiven me. More likely, she—or worse yet, Mum—would have unleashed herself on Mr. Thatcher, and none of us would have seen Jenn again.

One kiss. She got over it.

She wouldn’t have gotten over losing her best friend, too.

Just like Scarlett wouldn’t get over losing Jenn in Monte Carlo, so I was not about to trust her safety to anyone else.

“I need to do this, Rav.”

“That’s the problem.” He put a big hand on my shoulder and dipped his chin, the hair falling onto his forehead. “But I understand.”

At least one person did. Because I was fairly sure I didn’t.