CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CASH
PREP WEEK
STRATEGIZING
“Our target is located in a highly protected bunker, beneath a venue hosting an event full of people who could have various motives to interfere,” Sylvie begins, curled up next to me on the couch in our great room.
“But aside from that, we’re dealing with heavy guard detail, private security for the high-profile guests, an elevator that requires key-card access, two lower-level coded entries with codes that change every twenty-four hours, heat sensors connected to an alarm, a state-of-the-art security system, a location in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, players who may already be suspicious, my handler who will be keeping close tabs on everything we do, and a narrow window to grab our multimillion-dollar mystery prize and get out. Any questions?”
And as the rapid-fire ensues, she volleys it all with ease.
Ryker pecks his coffee cup with his index finger. “Do we have a guest list?”
“No.”
Axel studies the ball bouncing on his watch before snapping his focus to the master thief. “Do you know who keeps the codes?”
“The managing director—Auguste Dubois. The codes are generated at noon each day and given to him in a sealed envelope by his general manager. He always has a guard with him.”
Latching on to how a place is manned is so ingrained in Zara that she jumps on that. “Do you have the identities of the resort’s guards?”
“Most of them.”
Maddox controls our heist-scheming theme music from the jukebox, selecting Pink Floyd’s “Money” while still locked into the discussion. “The plan for the heat sensors?”
“Liquid nitrogen.”
“Nice,” Jax husks out.
“Is the resort involved?” Tessa asks as she doodles in a notebook.
“Doubtful. The Minds of Our Time retreat has been around for nearly two decades. They’ve always held it at this resort, but I don’t think that correlates to the information storage. From what E provided, the bunker is simply a space they rent out. Probably for an exorbitant amount.”
I palm Sylvie’s head, realizing there are things I’m not caught up on. “Has E given you a location for the drop?”
“Brussels, Belgium.”
“That’s a lot of moving pieces.” Ryker studies her for a beat, tense because he’ll be waiting here, separated from the rest of us while it all goes down. “Do you have a strategy for how we pull this off?”
A smile blooms on my face. “Of course she does.”
Sylvie mirrors my expression, confident and completely in her element.
“I’ve thought a lot about what our approach should be.
” Her gaze flits to the Picasso painting with admiration and the wall of black-and-white photographs that showcase a nostalgic glimpse of my siblings and me growing up together and running La Lune Noire.
“Since I’m teaming up with the Noires, we should do it your way. ”
Axel cocks his head with curiosity. “Which is …”
She snuggles closer, squeezing my thigh. “Controlled chaos.”
MAPPING
The layout of the resort hosting Minds of Our Time is vast, sprawling across the private island with four restaurants, several bars, a crêperie, two massive pools, a spa, entertainment and conference centers, and a wide array of suites and cottages.
The grounds are majestic with steep, jagged cliffs and turquoise water.
It sounds like a phenomenal vacation, but none of that is as important as what lies on the lower level.
“It’s not a basement, like what we’d see here.
” Sylvie stands at the front of the penthouse conference room, pointing to the map she has pulled up on a presentation screen like a sexy schoolteacher.
“There are unfinished pocket rooms, essentially.” She taps dead center.
“One here for a wine cellar.” She directs us to the farthest section on the right.
“This is the area that houses the documents. It’s where I need access.
” She gestures to the far left. “But this is the server room. Their security system is robust, so hacking poses challenges. If they detect tampering, it could shut it all down. Getting someone in there with a localized reader is our best bet.”
Her lips quirk up in a smile as she stares into the video monitor on the wall, addressing the guys from Rena’s family. “I suggest our tactical and swim team take that.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Liam agrees. “The evening we arrive, we can clamp an OFI—optical fiber identifier—to their fiber cable. That allows us to read signals completely undetected.”
“Great.” Her shoulders relax with her relief. “I was struggling to facilitate this part of the job on my own. The water is cold, and it’s a difficult swim—or it would’ve been for me to do alone—but from what I gathered, you could probably enter through the old sewer system.”
“That was a possibility I was toying with,” Wells commends her while pouring Sour Skittles into his hand. He’s the chief of their group, so planning is likely his domain, but while he’s intense, he always does a hell of a job giving credit where it’s due. “I caught those on the schematics.”
Maddox flicks his knife shut and speaks to the guys on the screen. “Entering through a sewage system seems slimy, even for all of you.”
Liam chuckles, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “It’s outdated, not used anymore. It’s like a big chute that they used to throw shit into the ocean. Before people knew better.”
“Poor fucking fish,” Jax mutters.
“The best option is the stormwater drainage system,” Wells says. “We need high tide for that so the entrance is concealed below the water. We’ll use an SDV—SEAL Delivery Vehicle. It’s a torpedo-shaped submarine.”
“Okay.” Sylvie clasps her hands, and everything about that and the rest of her body language screams hope. “I’ll let you handle that so we can concentrate on what things look like on the inside.”
I wonder if she recognizes it, the shift in her ability to trust. I’m sure there are still nerves and reservations, but Wells and Liam hopped on this call, told her their background and skill set, and she took my word that they were reliable. She wouldn’t have even fathomed that a few weeks ago.
Progress.
Since Gage and Ty will be joining us over there, too, Rena, the other girls, and all the kids will be staying here with Ryker, Mercy, and Remy. I would give a kidney to be a fly on the wall for that.
Leaning back in my chair, I guide Sylvie to the most important question. “What about getting you to where you need to be?”
“Well”—she searches the blueprint, as if she’s envisioning all of it, from the Burgundy limestone floors to the elaborate conference activities to the guests sipping champagne—“even if we’re monitoring where everyone is, they’re doing the same.
Since we’re guests, a diversion somewhere else in the resort that poses a safety hazard isn’t ideal. ”
Tessa nods along. “They’ll corral us like sheep.”
“And if we resist it”—Jax strokes the strings on his guitar lighter, pausing for the flame—“suspicion will surround us.”
“It also doesn’t guarantee that the lower-level guards will be engaged,” Zara interjects. “They could stay their post.”
“Exactly.” Sylvie grins, solaced by everyone being on the same page. “But we can create a diversion in the wine cellar. It’s on the same level, with a lot of money on the line, so it might pull guards away from the bunker room. And there’s a narrow passageway that runs the length of the resort.”
Axel straightens in his chair, his whole demeanor perking up with that. “From the wine cellar to the bunker with the documents?”
“That’s not on the schematics,” Wells chimes in.
“No.” Sylvie beams. “It’s not. But I’m nearly certain it extends the length of the resort. I discovered it last year when I entered through the coal chute. A lot of historical French structures—especially those that predate the French Revolution—had escape routes built in.”
Liam arches a brow. “So, it can be accessed from the coal chute?”
“Not anymore,” she sighs. “It probably could’ve been originally.
There are two transom windows in the old coal room.
They’ve been left alone. One looks into the hallway outside the bunker housing the documents—that’s how I identified the keyholders.
The other stares into the escape route. Everything suggests it should travel to the wine cellar and an alternate exit. ”
“Nicely done, Sly.”
TRAINING
Sylvie has never held a gun before, and she doesn’t intend to this time, but I insisted that she get comfortable with it, just in case. Axel and Ryker didn’t join us today, but the rest of us practice at our shooting range for hours.
Zara demonstrates some basic tips. Of course our resident assassin shows off at the end, hitting her mark with her eyes shut. “It’s not like you have to do it blindfolded, but it’s something to aspire to.”
Zara isn’t being smug. She’s relating to Sylvie. It’s brilliant because she challenged my girl, aware that Sylvie will stop seeing the pistol as a weapon for murder and view this session as a competition. Something irresistible.
Sylvie steps up, adjusting to the weight of the gun and getting used to the kickback.
She winces the first few times, but then her fiery spirit kicks in.
It’s apparent the second her mind shifts into competitor mode.
She gathers her dark brown hair into a ponytail in a hold-my-beer manner.
And within minutes, she’s hitting the target dead-on every fucking time.
She’s one of those people who can just do things.
I will never stop being enamored with her.
She blushes when we all hoot and holler, but she eats it up, enjoying her ability to conquer another trial. Zara wraps her in a hug, and Tessa sidles up to her to whisper something that makes her laugh. Sylvie glows, not just from the victory. It’s the sense of belonging she’s been craving.