Page 55 of Emerald

When I get down there, Andrei and Vadim are flanking the van, pointing their ARs at the driver’s side. I tell them to hold back, thinking that it might be rigged with explosives as well. But I can see someone sitting in the driver’s seat, their hands raised.

As I walk through the gates, that person motions that they want to open the door.

I nod my head at Andrei, to tell him not to fire.

The van door creaks open.

Sloane steps out.

Whatever kind of day I’ve had, hers has obviously been worse.

She looks like she’s been working in a coal mine—skin streaked with soot and dirt, a burn on her right forearm, and her tangled black curls twisted up in a knot on top of her head.

She’s wearing some shapeless knitted cardigan over top of a cheap sweatshirt with the Russian flag on the front—the kind of sweatshirt they sell to tourists at the market stalls around the Hermitage. And then beneath that, she appears to have on men’s sweatpants and a pair of gum boots.

Yet she’s grinning at me, her white teeth gleaming in contrast to her filthy skin.

“Hey!” she says. “Did you miss me?”

I try to keep my face stern, since Andrei and Vadim are standing right there.

“You went to a lot of trouble to climb up the chimney, just to come right back again,” I say.

Her smile falters just a little.

“Oh, you saw that, huh?”

“Obviously. There’s cameras all over this place.”

I nod toward the cameras stationed on every corner of the old stone walls, two of them pointing at us right now.

“Did you see the part where I almost fell off the roof?”

“Yes.”

She winces, embarrassed.

In truth, that part of the video had my heart rising in my throat, though I knew from Andrei that Sloane had made it safely over the wall.

I was furious with her, watching her escape.

She could have broken her neck, when she knew damn well I would have let her go if she just asked.

Probably.

“Why are you back?” I ask her. My frustration makes my voice even gruffer than I intend it to be.

“Well,” she says, her confidence wavering, “I sort of need your help.”

I let out a hoot of laughter.

“You need my help?”

The absolute brass balls on this girl.

“Yeah,” she says, tilting her head to the side, and smiling sweetly at me. “But don’t worry. It might be useful for you, too.”

I sigh.