Page 46 of No Longer Mine (Rags & Riches #2)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Scarlett

There were several built-in safes throughout the building—one concealed behind the full-length mirror in the bathroom, another hidden somewhere in here. But I wasn’t interested in cash or jewelry.

I needed flash drives.

I needed evidence—something solid, something damning. Something that would bury Sinclair so deep he’d never crawl his way back out.

The drive I’d taken from Gavin’s apartment had enough to ruin him, I was sure of it.

But was I ready to give it up? I wasn’t so sure.

I didn’t know if I was ready for what that would entail.

Yes, I wanted to take him down, but men like him, did they really get in trouble?

Would he really spend the rest of his life in misery?

Would he actually get a just punishment?

No, the chances were that he would still spend the rest of his life in luxury. Others would pay for his crimes and he would continue to hurt people. I couldn’t let that happen, but what could I do?

It seemed like Dimitri was hell bent on bringing him down based on everything he was doing in the city council, but was that even enough?

Relying on the government to do the right thing felt like a fool’s game. The system failed too many people.

My eyes swept over the office, landing on his computer. Nothing was plugged into the ports—no external drives, no leads. Still, it was a start.

I ran my fingers along the edges of the monitor, then the back.

Nothing. I wiggled the mouse. The screen lit up with a password prompt. No time to crack it. Dropping to my knees, I yanked open the drawers.

There had to be something.

I rifled through the drawers, my fingers moving fast but precise. Paperwork, receipts, and a gun tucked neatly in a velvet-lined compartment. No flash drives. No hard drives. No ledgers.

Damn it.

I pressed my lips together, scanning the room again. If I were Sinclair, where would I keep something incriminating? He was too smart to leave anything obvious out in the open. The computer was a dead end without the password. But there were still the safes.

The full-length mirror in the bathroom. That was one. I chewed on the corner of my cheek as I walked across the carpeted floor. I took the duster out just in case. I exited the office, began making my way down the hallway. Their bedroom was the last one on the right.

I slipped into their room silently, my eyes passed over everything quickly.

Their room was clean and tidy. A chair sat in the corner, untouched and definitely never sat in.

The bed was made and looked like it was never slept in.

These people weren’t people at all, they were obviously robots.

There wasn’t a speck of dust or dirt anywhere, which made me nervous.

I backed up a step and opened the door to the balcony and peeked my head out.

I couldn’t take any chances. The other building was close enough.

If I needed to bolt, this would be the only way out.

Double doors led to an immaculate bathroom. White everywhere. White tile, white climbing marble. A white tub. They probably didn’t get dirty often. Not even a single piece of hair stuck to the tile. Did his wife even get ready in here?

On either side of the walk-in shower were two sets of double doors. I guessed, based on the vanity to the left, that the right side was Sinclair’s closet. But first, I had to check the full-length mirror.

Ever so gently, I pressed on the mirror beside the bedroom door. It popped open quickly. Unfortunately, it was a biometric safe. I closed the mirror back into place. There was nothing I could do with that one. I didn’t have anything on me to help me hack it, and I knew I was running out of time.

Oliver wasn’t in my ear, which meant he was watching Gavin and Sinclair closely.

I made my way toward the right-side doors, stepping carefully, my pulse hammering in my ears. If Sinclair had anything worth hiding, it had to be here.

The closet was exactly what I expected—pristine, methodical, and eerily lifeless. Suits hung in perfect order, dark colors transitioning seamlessly to lighter ones. Shoes gleamed beneath them, polished to perfection. The entire space smelled of expensive cologne and power.

I ran my hands along the walls, feeling for anything out of place. Sinclair wasn’t sloppy—he wouldn’t just leave evidence lying around. But no one was perfect. Everyone had a weakness. A blind spot.

My fingers brushed against a subtle seam in the wooden paneling at the back of the closet. Too precise. My heart pounded as I pressed against it.

A soft click.

The panel popped open an inch.

I swallowed, steadying my breath before pulling it open completely.

Inside, a small black safe sat against the wall. Not biometric like the one in the bathroom. Just a combination lock. Old school. That was something I could work with. I crouched down, fingers grazing the dial.

“Oliver,” I whispered, barely moving my lips.

“I’m here,” his voice came low through my earpiece.

“There’s a safe. Combination lock.”

A pause. Then, “Can you see the brand?”

I squinted in the dim light. “Yeah. Hamilton.”

“Alright, that gives us a starting point. Most default codes are factory set if they haven’t been changed. Try 0-0-0-0 first.”

I did. Nothing.

“Try 1-2-3-4.”

I swallowed a laugh. If Sinclair used something that stupid, I’d be personally offended. I spun the dial and entered the numbers. Nothing.

Oliver sighed. “Didn’t think so. Alright, we’ll have to crack it manually. Gavin and Sinclair are still at a restaurant in Queens, but I don’t have eyes on his wife. Do you think you have time?”

I glanced over my shoulder toward the open bedroom door. Every second I spent here was a risk. But I wasn’t leaving empty-handed.

“I’ll make time.”

I pressed my ear against the cool metal of the safe, taking a slow breath.

I closed my eyes for a second, steadying myself, then pressed my fingertips lightly against the dial. I turned it slowly, feeling for the subtle shifts, the faintest ticks in resistance.

Oliver’s voice was low and controlled in my ear. “Go slow. Feel for the catch. When it hesitates, that’s your number.”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. My heart pounded, adrenaline mixing with sharp focus. First number. A slight hitch under my fingers. I stopped and reversed the direction.

The second number took longer, but I felt it. A tiny, almost imperceptible shift in tension. I repeated the process, careful not to rush.

Come on. Almost there.

I found the third number, then the fourth. My fingers trembled slightly as I turned the dial one last time, exhaling as I heard a faint click.

It was open.

I pulled the door open slowly, pulse hammering.

Inside, there were stacks of crisp bills, some bound in foreign currency. A sleek black pistol. And finally—several flash drives.

Jackpot.

I reached inside, I grabbed the flash drives and shoved them into my pocket before my fingers brushed against something else. A leather-bound notebook. I hesitated, and then pulled it out. Flipping through the pages, my stomach twisted.

Names, dates, addresses, and totals beside them. Some of the names at the left of the page looked familiar. Were these buyers?

These weren’t in Russian. They were in English. My finger went down the list of the smaller numbers. Ages?

14.

I covered my mouth before I threw up.

“I have to get out of here,” I whispered. “Oliver, I might go dark. I’m leaving their apartment. Talk to you soon.”

“Over and out,” he joked.

I shoved the notebook into my shirt where there was a hidden pocket. This was more important than anything else.

I closed the safe carefully and exited the closet. I made sure everything was the way I found it. I thought about taking some of the cash, but I couldn’t risk him noticing it was missing right away.

I exited the bathroom just as the door was opening. My breath hitched, and I held up the duster as quickly as I could. I turned to the side and prayed that whoever it was, wouldn’t think anything of being in here.

“Shit!” The man shouted. “You scared the fuck out of me. I didn’t hear you come in tonight, Darla!”

I coughed into my elbow and let out a raspy sound. “You scared me too!”

The man laughed, shaking his head as he rubbed a hand over his face. “Damn, you’re quiet as hell. Thought I was the only one in here.”

I forced out a breathless chuckle, my mind racing. Who was he? A bodyguard?

He squinted at me. “You sick?”

I sniffled and nodded, pulling my scarf higher over my mouth. “Yeah, caught something nasty.” My voice was hoarse, but I played it up, letting my shoulders sag a little like I was barely holding it together. “Just wanted to get this over with and head home.”

“I thought you were going to Cabo?”

I shrugged. “Sick.”

His eyes narrowed as he leaned farther into the room. “How’s your wife holding up?”

I blinked. “She’s healing up good.”

I watched as his hand moved to his side, and my back straightened. “She disappointed yous missin’ the trip?”

“What can you do?” I dusted along the chair and some of the wall as I moved closer to the doors that led to the balcony. My heart was going 90 to nothing, and I could hardly breathe. I just needed him to go away.

“I didn’t think the Sinclair’s had a night service.”

“It’s new, they wanted their beds turned down for them.”

His jaw clenched. “Darla doesn’t come in if she’s sick. She is too afraid of getting the Cristof’s sick. She wouldn’t come do a turn in at night, especially.”

His fingers wrapped around his gun, and I didn’t care anymore. I threw the duster at him as I took off running.

“Hey!” he shouted, but I was already halfway to the balcony.

I didn’t have time to think. The moment I reached the railing, I vaulted over it, fingers scraping against the cold metal as I twisted my body midair. The other building was just close enough—I had to make it.

The wind whipped against my face as I stretched for the opposite ledge.

My fingers grazed the edge of the balcony, and for a terrifying second, I thought I’d miscalculated.

At the last second, my hands caught metal, the force jarred right through my body.

I let out a grunt as I dangled there for a split second before swinging myself up and scrambling over the railing.

A gunshot cracked through the night, and pain laced through my body. I let out a gasp as I continued to run for my life. I pressed my hand to my side and swallowed back the cry I desperately wanted to let out.

I bolted across the balcony and ducked into the shadows. The curtains on the sliding door were drawn, but the lock was flimsy—one good shove and I was inside a darkened living room. Another gunshot let out, and glass shattered behind me. He wasn’t going to stop until I was dead.

Warm blood seeped through my fingers, sticky and hot even against the chill of the night air. I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t let the pain slow me down.

I stumbled forward, forcing my legs to keep moving. Even though the space was unfamiliar, I didn’t have time. He would be right behind me if he hadn’t already sent someone up. The pain was blinding but I didn’t have the luxury of stopping.

“Oliver?” I gasped out.

Silence met my ears. I reached up to find my ear empty.

My comms must have fallen out when I jumped across the balcony.

I yanked the front door open and raced across the hall.

I couldn’t take the elevator, though I didn’t know if I could manage the stairs either.

I was too far away from the safe house, and I didn’t have a phone to call an Uber.

Thankfully, the uniforms were of dark material.

I tossed the wig into a garbage can in the stairwell and shook my hair out.

As much as I wanted to shuck the uniform with it, I knew I couldn’t.

I couldn’t risk them finding it covered in blood.

Eleven flights of stairs later, and I thought I was going to die.

I didn’t know how I didn’t leave a trail of blood behind me.

I could make it. I could do it.

With renewed energy and somehow some speed, I burst through the emergency exit at the bottom of the stairs into the cool night air. People were shouting nearby, and I knew I was running out of time.