Page 66 of Point Blank

“Oh my god,” Peyton said, her words as sharp as glass.

Brock unleashed a stream of curses. “Get the hell out of there quickly, you guys. I did some research on the safe’s alarm. Looks like you can snip that little wire and it won’t sound.”

Serena pressed the button on her sleeve, activating her mic. “And if it does?”

“Run.” Brock’s clipped response didn’t settle her nerves. She looked up at Milo. He curled his lip, obviously not satisfied with that answer either. Brock pulled out the flashlight, knelt and set it on the ground. Next, he pulled out a small toolkit from his inside jacket pocket and retrieved a pair of cutters.

Serena dropped her head back to stare at the large globe of light where the beam ended.

Snip

She squeezed her lips together and fought down the rush of vomit that wanted to leap from her stomach.

Nothing. Not even a beep.

Milo’s husky laugh broke through the web of anxiety clouding her vision. “We’re in.”

She lowered her chin, bringing her gaze level with Milo’s. He smiled and motioned her to the floor next to him. She dropped down, took the flashlight, and found the small latch that secured the wood to the wall. She flipped it open and the frame cracked away from the drywall. Milo grabbed the edge and inched the frame open.

Sunken into the wall was the safe’s five-foot-tall gunmetal door. Milo whistled. “This thing is huge.” He turned to her. “Think you can crack it?”

She nodded. Milo swung his backpack to the floor and passed her the stethoscope. She removed her earbud and tucked it into her pocket, then fit the rubber pieces of the stethoscope into her ears and pressed the diaphragm to the door near the handle. “Be ready to remember the numbers.”

She closed her eyes and spun the dial, taking slow and steady breaths through her nose. The soft whir of the dial sounded in her ears, drowning out the sounds around her and heightening her other senses. This time, she didn’t have the uncontrollable pattering of her heart in her eardrums to compete with the sound of the safe. Not with Milo on guard at her back.

Click

“Forty-four.”

She spoke the comb numbers aloud. Milo would keep note of them in case she made a mistake and they had to start over. She spun it again and let her muscles relax with every inhale of Milo’s sandalwood cologne.

Click

“Thirteen.”

Milo shifted next to her. She swallowed. One more.

Click

She ripped the earbuds out of her ears. “Six.”

Milo took the stethoscope from her, and his hand closed over hers on the door. She reinserted the earbud, and pulled on the handle of the safe. It sailed open. The muscle behind Milo’s grip made the door move a hell of a lot easier than if she’d pulled it on her own.

“We’re in,” Serena said into the mic at her wrist.

“Yes!” Peyton hissed in her ear. “See? Piece of cake.”

“Easy, we’re not done yet,” Milo said. His breath on her neck kept her from shaking. If there was one man more terrifying than Alban, it was Titus. As Milo had said, stealing from him would ensure their hands—and who knew what else—would be cut off before their throats were slit. Milo turned the flashlight and a beam of yellow glowed over the shelves. Serena’s gaze skimmed over the contents.

One shelf held knives of various lengths. Seven handguns and some ammo sat on another shelf. The one beneath it held stacks of papers.

Milo reached above her head and pulled out a wide tray from the top shelf.

“Is that it?” she said, rising to her tiptoes. He held it out for her to see. She lifted the lid. Eight rows, each with ten compartments, held various stones. “Holy shit,” she wheezed. She rested her fingers on the brushed satin of the case, tilting it an inch to display its contents.

Diamonds ranging in color from the clearest white to near black sat coordinated in each pocket. The center compartment held one single blue diamond.

“That looks like a piece of a fucking glacier.”