Page 45 of Point Blank

Chapter

Ten

Desperation clawed its way up Serena’s spine as she climbed the stairs. She had to be on to something. Dani was too smart not to try to give her a hint. She burst into the guest room, grabbed Dani’s laptop and, without waiting until she got back downstairs, cracked it open.

Her heart squeezed and her eyes burned with tears. She didn’t linger on the screensaver photo of Dani and her on vacation in Mexico last year. She moved into the living room and perched on the couch with the computer on her lap.

Milo sat next to her while Brock paced over the area rug that covered the center of the hardwood floor, looking the worse for wear. His California tan had faded to a sallow gray. His fierce eyes and pinched lips shone a light on his relationship with Dani. From what little Dani had said about him recently, Serena had gotten the impression that the two would attack each other like feral cats if they crossed paths.

This didn’t seem to be so true for Brock.

She shifted her attention back to the screen and opened Dani’s email account.

Please let there be something . . .

She typed “Plan X” into the search box.

Item not found.

Shit. She chewed the edge of her thumb.

“Try her desktop. Maybe she saved some things under a different name.”

Serena scanned the icons laid overtop of the picture of Dani and her. One file jumped out at her: “Prospects.” She narrowed her gaze and double-clicked the folder. A spreadsheet with ten names expanded.

“This could be it,” Milo said. Brock came around to lean over the sofa behind her.

A column beside each name held the person’s rarities. Cash, art, gold . . .

“It has to be this one.” Brock tapped the fourth one down. Serena read the name and her mouth fell open.

Alfonso Moussa. Alban’s brother.

Dani hadn’t been kidding. This would have been the heist of a lifetime. Aside from diamonds, he also had a large stash of gold and other big-ticket items. Which was why Brock had spotted his name from the list.

She flicked out her hand, connecting it with Milo’s chest. “That man who broke into Dani’s apartment . . . Bart something. He had Alfonso’s boxing-club card, remember?”

Milo rocked forward on the couch. “That’s too big of a coincidence.”

“Do you think they’re the ones who took her?” Before anyone could reply, she shook her head. “No, that doesn’t add up. Why would they come to her house after she was gone? They had her already.”

“Maybe they were looking for something,” Brock said.

Serena flicked her gaze to Brock and then to Milo. His brow pulled down into a frown and he made a tsking sound.

“Could be, but we can’t ignore the possibility that Bart was working for someone other than Alfonso. We need to talk to Dani’s team again. After that we’ll have more to go by.”

Her shoulders melted forward. “I spoke with Vivi, remember? I got nothing out of her.” Dang it, they were almost there. The tantalizing taste of cracking this confusing puzzle dangled at her lips like decadent chocolate cake, which she hadn’t indulged in in years.

“There’s two more people on the team we can try.” Milo’s hands went to her shoulders, kneading the muscles there. Her body still hummed with delight from the earth-shattering orgasm he’d given her hours before. Sex should have cleared the air, should have dimmed the screams of need that had been popping up since she laid eyes on him again. It didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t a sex fiend. Hell, she’d gone more than a year without it and hadn’t missed it. Well, not that much. So what was causing this rage of hormones? Stress? That had to be it.

There was a low buzzing, and Brock pushed away from the sofa. He frowned and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll be right back,” he said, as he strode out of the room.

She let her head fall to Milo’s shoulder. As if robbing one of her clients wasn’t bad enough, she’d also have to interrogate Dani’s team. There were so many angles to consider, and if they overlooked any of them it could cost Dani her life. The saving grace of this whole fucked-up situation was Milo. Had he not been here, had he kicked her out of Tasha’s pub two nights ago, she wouldn’t be holding it together right now.

“I wish I’d agreed to the job Dani was planning. At least I’d be on the inside. Dani isn’t careful enough when it comes to colleagues,” she said into his shirt, which held a warm, piney scent. “You know me—I’m always cautious and prepared.”

Milo’s gruff laugh shook her shoulders. “Prepared? That’s like saying an architect is someone who designs sandcastles.”