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“Yeah, she changed her statement and said she made it all up for attention.”

“What if she hadn’t been lying? What if someone paid her off and the evidence she claimed to have was hidden? Not destroyed, but kept by Franky Russo?”

“You think the Mob boss was holding something over those bigwigs?”

“Digging up their dirtiest secrets and reminding them of it every so often is a pretty convincing way to get them to do whatever he wants.”

“It is.” I crossed an ankle over my knee. “And assuming Dante is in possession of that information now, where would you hide something important if your home were built like Fort Knox and you had major trust issues?”

“He’s going to take it home with him.”

I nodded. “My bet? He has a concealed safe, maybe even a vault, inside that mansion.”

“So, theoretically, everything we need to take down Dante and every corrupt bastard in this city will be inside?”

“Yep.”

Sage tightened her ponytail. “Look, it’s just a theory. We don’t know for sure what’s on that hard drive. We can’t even be sure Dante’s taking it home.”

An alarm sounded from my laptop, so I spun to check it. “What do you know? Dante’s left the city, and the cameras are back up and running.” A few moments later, I’d located his silver sedan heading north, presumably for Newtown Square.

“Shit,” said Sage. And she was right to be frustrated. Dante’s mansion was the last place I wanted to go looking for that hard drive.

We spent the next half hour following the silver sedan to Dante’s estate. Shifting to Sage’s computer, we watched as he took the storage device to the west wing, through a set of security-coded wooden doors, and into a room without cameras. He emerged five minutes later empty-handed.

“I think your theory has merit,” I said. “Dante needs the dirt before he can lord it over his minions.” I pointed at the live image of the double doors I suspected led to a vault. “We need to get in there.”

“Brandon,” Sage warned.

“It might be hectic gaining access, but it can be done.”

She snorted. “No shit, it’ll be hectic. Us and what army?”

I tapped my foot against the gray pile carpet. “I could make a few calls. Organize a bunch of guys to—”

“No! No way.” Sage stood and paced the room. “I don’t want a repeat of the club shoot-out.”

“It won’t be anything like that. It’ll be much harder.”

She spun to face me, eyes wide. “Exactly! You can’t just storm Dante’s mansion. That’s crazy.”

“It’s notthatcrazy. I was involved in something similar in Bogota. And Mogadishu. In fact, it reminds me of this one time in Istanbul…” I smiled as I recalled a Team Zulu mission where the guys and I escaped a fortified compound with top secret weapons intelligence, but barely got out of there alive. What a night.

“Excuse me for interrupting your trip down memory lane. As impressive as your siege-laying skills may be, let me remind you you’re not in Istanbul; you’re on home soil. An operation like that is far too risky.” She rubbed her temples and let out a frustrated sigh. “When I asked for your help with taking down Dante, I assumed it would only involve working from your computer, not breaking into a fortified compound. You’ve already been shot because of me. I don’t want to be the cause of anything worse.” Her hands shifted to her hips. “Please, can we rule that idea out for now? I think it’s best if you continue searching and see what else you can dig up. If there’s still a giant hole surrounding the top tier of Mob supporters, we’ll consider alternatives then.”

I pouted. “You’re spoiling my fun.”

“I just…prefer you with fewer bullet holes. One is enough for this week. Don’t you think?”

My lips twitched as I fought to contain a smile. “You’re worried about me.” I stood and approached Sage. Her brow knitted, which meant I’d nailed precisely how she was feeling.

“What? No.” She scoffed a little too vehemently. “I just hate patching you up. It’s gross.”

She shifted on her feet as I moved closer still. “Liar. It’s more than that, isn’t it?” My eyes narrowed. “I think you like me. And I think”—I hooked a knuckle under her chin, tilting it up—“you care about me more than you’d like to admit.”

Sage remained silent, although the conflict in her eyes told me enough. She didn’t want to lie, nor did she want to confess her feelings.

“Have you run out of reasons yet?” I asked.