Page 15 of No Longer Mine

He’d almost caught me the first time I was in his home—which never happened. And now, he’d nearly bested me the second time, all because I’d let my curiosity win.

No more.

There was no dirt on him, at least not where I was looking. His campaign was locked down tight. His best friend was the Benson Browne—a tech genius who had his hands in everything, including Dimitri’s security system.

I pulled my red hair into a knot, shoving it under my hoodie as I ducked into a side street. The subway was loud and crowded, which was exactly what I needed. It wasn’t my usual way home. But tonight? I needed to disappear.

I had my own Benson Browne, and he was waiting for me, not so patiently in his loft.

The moment I stepped into the loft, he was on me, shoving off the wall, his sharp eyes locking onto mine as he yanked my hood down.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice edged with frustration. “And you’re missing your mask. What the hell happened?”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my pulse. My chest was still tight from the run, but it wasn’t just the exertion. It was the feeling of Dimitri’s eyes still on me, the sense that even now, he was somewhere thinking about me.

I hated it.

Oliver started pacing, jaw clenched. “You didn’t even tell me when to reactivate the security system. Twice. Twice, Scarlett. You’ve never screwed up before. Maybe it’s time we retire.”

I blinked. “Retire? I don’t want to retire.”

“Then start explaining why your identity is compromised,” he snapped.

I held up a finger. “First, I don’t wear my ski mask on the subway.”

Oliver folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t ever take the subway.”

I wagged my finger at him. “Second, I needed to switch things up tonight. Jaimie can’t always pick me up.”

That did it. He threw his hands up. “That’s why we hired a discreet driver. If you aren’t going to use him, we need to make sure he’s taken care of so he doesn’t talk. Financially.” He smacked his forehead with his palm. “He drove the block for hours waiting for the call. We thought someone finally got you.”

I exhaled through my nose. Maybe it was better to just say it. “Someone almost did.”

Oliver stilled. “What?”

“He grabbed my mask,” I admitted. “Saw my face.”

A humorless chuckle slipped from his lips. “Retirement.”

“You can’t force me to retire,” I shot back.

“I quit.”

Shit.

“Fine,” I muttered, walking past him toward the small kitchen. He followed, right on my heels, waiting for an explanation I wasn’t sure I was ready to give.

“Well?” His tone was clipped. “What did you get, at least?”

I dumped the contents of my pockets onto the kitchen island—twelve big-ticket items. None of it was what our client wanted, but it was what I needed.

Cleo would sell most of it off. A few pieces I’d keep for myself.

Cleo was just another gear in our well-oiled machine. Oliver protected me digitally, Cleo sold the goods, and I found our targets. Sometimes, we would get hired through Jax to do personal hits, but they were never favorable. Whatever the buyer wanted tonight, it was useless.

But there, sitting among the watches and jewelry, was a diamond ring.

I turned it over in my fingers, sliding it onto my hand. It was a little big, but it didn’t matter. I deserved it after tonight. It was probably fake, considering it was in his bedside table drawer. Diamonds this big were usually kept under lock and key.