Page 61 of No Longer Mine

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the elevator reset,” Oliver said in my ear.

“Appreciate it,” I muttered, adjusting the strap of my bag as the elevator climbed past the unnecessary floors. My heart still pounded from the small hitch in my plan, but I wasn’t going to let it shake me. Not tonight.

The elevator dinged at twelve, and I stepped out into the hallway, my steps light, controlled.

“You’re clear,” Oliver’s voice hummed in my ear. “No movement inside the apartment, security is still looped. You have fifteen minutes max before the next cycle refreshes.”

Fifteen minutes was all I needed.

I approached Gavin’s door, glancing down the hall once before I punched the code into his door. I flexed my stiff fingers as I waited for the door to unlock. Superglue on my fingertips, just in case. You could never be too careful. I slipped through the open floor plan and back to the bedroom.

The card was still on the back of his bed frame. I swiped the card along the safe, which clicked open. A few Rolexes, some tennis bracelets, a couple of rings. I swiped the necklace at the back with a teardrop pendant and closed the safe with a click. There had to be more around here. Guns, stacks of cash, even some folders somewhere with invaluable information?

I would need to go into the office. I gritted my teeth as I slipped from his bedroom and straight to the office. I didn’t like this at all. Something felt off.

“How’s everything looking?” I whispered.

“Good. Gavin is still at the strip club. Sinclair hasn’t arrived yet, but I imagine he won’t be long.”

Gavin’s office was clean. Practical. It looked exactly how it had when he brought me in here just a few short weeks ago.

I made my way to his desk, my fingers brushing over the polished wood as I scanned for anything useful. Gavin was a careful man, but no one was perfect.

I crouched beside the desk, running my hands along the underside. Nothing. No false bottoms, no secret compartments. My fingers curled into fists. My gaze flicked to the sleek, expensive painting above the liquor cabinet.

I strode toward it, heart hammering, and carefully lifted the frame from the wall. There. A small black safe was embedded behind it, digital keypad gleaming under the dim light. I let out a slow exhale, pressing my comm, “I need more time.”

Oliver’s response was immediate. “You’ve got ten minutes before the loop resets. You need to be out before then.”

“I need the code.” My voice was steady, but my pulse was anything but.

A few seconds of silence. Then?—

“Hold on.”

I ran my fingers along the edge of the safe, checking for any signs of tampering. It was clean. Gavin was smart, but he was also arrogant.

The seconds ticked by. My breathing slowed, steadying.

Then Oliver’s voice cut through. “Try his birthday. Eight digits. 03141999.”

I pressed my lips together and keyed in the numbers. Nothing.

“Didn’t work.”

I took a deep breath as I thought over everything. The key code to his front door was eight digits. I punched it in quickly.

Click.

The door creaked open to reveal several weapons—guns, and various kinds of knives—stacks of cash, envelopes, and a thick folder. I put one of the many stacks of cash in my bag and pulled the folder free.

It was a folder for his firm of illegal dealings. At the top of the stack of papers was a list of names. I frowned as I ran my finger down the list. Hundreds of names, but they were in Russian?

I wasn’t so sure. Definitely not English. What was this? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and snapped pictures of every sheet.

I snapped the last picture, heart hammering as I flipped the pages faster, trying to take in as much as I could before I had to go. This wasn’t just money laundering or some shady business deals. This was something bigger.

The names—rows and rows of them, listed with numbers beside them. Transaction amounts? Identification numbers?