Page 88 of Dreadful

He disconnects it, punches a series of numbers into the keypad, and the lock releases with a soft click.

“Okay, that’s pretty fucking cool.”

“I’ll tell Rafe you said so,” he says as he opens the next safe.

“Holy shit.” My mouth drops open at the contents.

Velvet pouches crowd the shelves—dark blue, dark green, some gone gray with age—along with small hinged boxes in tarnished silver and lacquered wood. Plastic sleeves sit stacked in neat rows, and folded packets of loose stones spill out from between them like someone shoved everything in haphazardly.

I pick up one of the packets and unfold it carefully, pinching the paper between two fingers. A large diamond lands against my palm. It catches the work light overhead and throws a small bright line across my wrist.

“There has to be a million dollars in here,” I breathe out.

Cruz hums a little as he reaches toward the back of the safe, past two boxes stamped with gold lettering I can’t read from here.

His hand disappears behind one of them before coming out with a necklace dangling from his fingers. Silver chain, thick links, a pendant I can’t see yet because his fist is closed around it.

The air thickens, and awareness tiptoes down my spine.

The change in him wipes away my fascination with the diamond. One second he was flipping through boxes like he was checking produce; now he’s frozen mid-crouch, arm extended, staring at nothing I can see.

“What?”

His thumb moves over the pendant slowly, back and forth, his attention fixed on it. “This is from a job last year.”

I look at the necklace. “Okay…”

Nothing about stolen jewelry sitting inside Coco’s safe feels particularly surprising.

Cruz finally looks at me, his expression carefully controlled. “She told us she dumped it.”

My stomach dips. “What happened?”

“The job got hot. Really fucking hot.” His eyes drop to the necklace again, and he turns it once in his fingers so the pendant swings. “She said there was no way to move any of it without risking it coming back on us.”

“So she hid it here.”

“No.” The word comes fast. He shakes his head quickly, like he’s correcting a reflex. Cruz’s jaw shifts once before he continues. “She told us it was gone, Bells.”

The low hum of the work light suddenly seems louder in the silence between us.

I stare at everything with a new understanding. It looks like she kept the entire fucking haul but told her boys a different story.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation for this.”

“Fuck,” he grits out.

Another beep, and he’s up, crossing the small space in three strides before I’ve finished blinking.

Cruz pulls the fourth door open and freezes. His shoulders lock, and his arm hangs there with his fingers still curled around the handle.

“What’s inside?” I prompt. I drop the jewels back into the safe and follow him, my sneakers scuffing on the concrete.

“Motherfuck—” He exhales sharply, his thumb rubbing slowly over the edge of the door, back and forth.

I reach his side and peer around him.

Stacks of casino chips fill the safe from shelf to shelf, each one bound in familiar bundles.. My stomach drops when I recognize the logo—the sunburst and the cursive name across every face.