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I have no idea how I’m supposed to find something Katerina hid in this city before these men hunt me down. But I’ll have to try.

“Chad,” Katerina warns. “Think about this. Don’t pack up your luggage yet. We’ll never get to Paris.”

What on earth is she saying?

“Evan, go with him,” the big guy says to a man in the back. “Make sure he gets it. If he runs, kill him.”

So there goes kissing Amelia tomorrow.

We’ll never get to Paris.That’s the first clue that makes any sense. We are staying at the Bellagio, across from the Paris Las Vegas. She could have taken it there at some point. The Framework is small enough to fit in a padded envelope and be mailed over there. That’s my first idea.

But I need to lose my tail. So instead of going straight to the Paris, I wander down the Strip, dodging in and out of clubs, the entire time aware of the hulking shadow behind me.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Evan snarls after the fourth one.

“Honestly, no,” I say casually. “She kept talking about this man named Billy she knew who ran the gondolas at the Venetian, but I can’t remember where that is.”

“Idiot,” Evan mutters and, as I hoped, stomps forward, in front of me, leading the way.

Looks like they sent the stupid one. I follow him dutifully for a block. And then, when a group of bushy-tailed dancers slips between us, I make my move, sprinting straight across the busy street. The Paris is in the opposite direction and while I run I snag items from vendors and people walking by. A brown hat, a red button-up, and sunglasses. I add them as I go, calculating the risks of my plan.

Do I go straight to the FBI with the Framework? Or try to catch Fox myself? I know what I should do. But I’m going to need backup.

Chapter 8

Amelia

Runningdownthestreet,chasing after a criminal is a lot more fun in the movies I’m sure. In real life, my heels are killing me, my dress is too tight and riding up, and there are too many people in the way. I’ve been in and out of and around buildings all down the Strip, and somehow I’m still on Thane’s tail.

When he stops to purchase something from a street vendor, I slow to a walk and kick off my heels, holding them by the straps, desperately trying to ignore the sticky grime beneath my feet and drag in some much needed air. If I'm going to be chasing people down on a regular basis, I'm going to need to add some protein and veggies to my diet.

It may not be worth it.

I sigh and continue on after my suspect.

Wait, where is Thane? I glance around, but…I’ve lost him.

No! How did I do that? He was right there, and then I got distracted.

Is that him turning down that alley?

I speed up, hoping to catch sight of him, but I don’t spy him down that alley, or the next one.

I don’t know where I am, and I’m tired. But I refuse to call it quits. I turn down the street in a direction I pray will take me back to the Strip. I reach for my phone to call Maddie, then remember I left my purse at the table when I took the stage.

What kind of P.I. leaves their phone behind? Clearly I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’m nothing if not teachable.

A loud slam echoes through the alley up ahead and I freeze. What was that? And why is it so dark? I thought I was heading toward the Strip, not away from it.

I scoot closer to the shadows on the opposite side of the alley and press on. I just need to get back to the Strip.

Another twenty steps, and I can make out a small shop. It looks like a tiny post office but with huge lockers instead of small ones. The person manning it has clearly gone home for the night. The station consists of a single door, and a shadow quickly moves behind it.

Someone’s in there.

My body seizes, the thumping of my heart the only sound in my ears. I can’t will myself to investigate, but I also can’t walk away. I’m powerless. Which means whenever that person comes out of there, I’m a sitting duck. I need to move. Now.

Glass breaks and a man darts out of the station.