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A fter going over every aspect and detail of the Colombian heist, I feel confident Deck and I will pull it off with ease. Addie emails us all the information from The Man. We have no idea where he gets his intel, but it’s consistently legit.

Schematics and blueprints? Always accurate.

Passwords and keycodes? Never fail.

Hidden tunnel entrance or secret back door to an actual castle? No problem.

The Man provides time and time again when we need something. Just like Angel said he would.

Does it leave me with a multitude of questions? Sure. But we’ve come to rely on his inside information, and the last thing we want to do is piss him off and have him disappear on us. He wants his privacy, for whatever reason, and part of our unspoken agreement is to respect that.

Deck and I are taking a commercial flight that leaves in less than three hours.

I have just enough time to pack a duffel bag and scarf down a sandwich before he picks me up.

We drive over to the airport and the flight is right on schedule.

It’s not long until the plane is up in the air and we’re en route to South America.

I rotate my neck, working out the kinks, and glance over at Deck, who already looks a little pale. The big guy hates flying, and I take the opportunity to tease him a little.

“Hey,” I say, nodding to the strip of silver tape above his head. “I sure hope there’s more than duct tape holding this bucket of bolts together.”

He looks up at the tape and turns paler. “Yeah, I sure fuckin’ hope so.”

I can’t help but chuckle and he glares at me.

Flying never bothers me. In fact, I kind of like it.

Flying commercial sucks, but if I’m lucky enough to be on a private plane and can avoid the airport hassle, count me in every time.

There’s a certain level of freedom when you’re soaring above the clouds at six-hundred miles per hour.

“Only six more hours,” I cheerfully remind him, and he flips me off.

The party we’re planning to infiltrate tomorrow evening is a black-tie affair and sounds like it’s going to be a mix of socialites, wealthy businessmen and old money.

Growing up poor, I was never invited to any fancy shindigs, but since meeting Addie and Angel, I’ve attended a hundred similar soirées.

Slipping inside the mansion and gatecrashing a hoity-toity party is a lot like seducing a whore—minimal effort to succeed. The attendees are so self-absorbed, they pay no attention to anyone but themselves.

And that makes my job easy.

I’m there to mingle and charm. Keep the attention off Deck, who will fade into the periphery like a phantom and break into the host’s safe, stealing an emerald the size of my fist. We work well together, and I’m not expecting any issues.

There’s only one thing that could turn into a potential problem for my crew.

“What’re your thoughts on the detective who’s been sniffing around?” I ask.

Deck shifts in his seat and frowns. “Vaughn?” he asks, voice dry. “He’s definitely going to be a pain in our ass.”

“Right now, all he has is unfounded suspicions. No evidence that we’re involved in any of the crimes he’s investigating.”

We are involved, of course. In every single one.

“Not yet, anyway. But I get the feeling he’s going to be a persistent prick.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I get that feeling, too.”

“Just means we have to be extra careful.”

Nodding, I stretch my long legs out. “Did you see the way he was looking at Addie?”

“He gave her a few looks,” Deck says carefully. “Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to arrest her or fuck her.”

“Not good.”

“No. Either way, I have a feeling he’d be up for cuffing her.”

“Fucking great.” I rub two fingers against my temple. “Good thing she’s smart enough not to fall for his bullshit.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Luckily, the duct tape and bubble gum holds, and the plane lands safely at El Dorado International Airport in Bogotá.

I stand and reach up to grab our duffel bags from the luggage compartment above.

The capital city is surprisingly cool and averages around fifty degrees most of the year, so I slip my jacket on.

Since it’s late, we grab our fancy rental car and go straight to the hotel. Deck and I have a couple of rooms booked near the airport. It’s going to be a quick in and out, though. No time to mingle or explore.

After checking in under fake names, we dump our stuff off in our rooms and head down to the restaurant.

We’re both starving, and while I order a monster dish of bandeja paisa , Deck finds a burger and fries at the bottom of the menu.

He isn’t very daring when it comes to trying new food, but we both agree on a couple of Club Colombia beers which really hit the spot.

Deck eyes my huge plate of food warily after picking the lettuce off his burger. “What the hell is in that?” he asks.

“Beans, pork, rice, avocado.” I shrug and take another big bite. “Eggs, I think? I don’t know, but it’s damn tasty.”

“Is there anything you won’t eat?”

“Nope. I’ll try anything once.”

He shakes his head and reaches for a fry. For several long moments, we eat in companionable silence while I instinctually scan the room. Looking for an easy mark or a target comes naturally to me, and I don’t even think about it.

A good thief has certain innate qualities. In my book, those include agility, stealth, dexterity and adaptability. Being able to think fast on your feet and possess keen observation skills are also essential. And I’m always observing.

Like now, for instance.

The woman sitting by herself three tables away is wearing a rock on her left ring finger the size of Texas.

It’s practically screaming, “Steal me!” A businessman at the bar has his briefcase propped against the legs of his barstool.

Probably contains his laptop, which I could swipe in half a second.

Before he’s even through finishing that sip of tequila he’s drinking, I’d be out the door and on the elevator.

Less than a minute later, I’d be in his email, finding his reservation confirmation and headed to the room he’s occupying.

After picking the lock, I could steal whatever I wanted.

Most people are oblivious to the glaring fact they’re unconsciously making themselves a target to people like me. When an opportunity presents itself, I rarely bite anymore. Not when it comes to small potatoes. But way back before I met Angel, I seized every single one.

Alma “Angel” Mills, a.k.a. Addie’s mom, was the best thief I’ve ever known.

She took me under her wing when I was only eighteen and taught me all the best things I know.

Addie and I were only twenty-three when Angel died.

Of course, Addie was devastated. Her mother was her idol, and since Addie had become like a sister to me, we stayed close friends, even when we briefly went our separate ways.

When she decided to form this ring of thieves a few years ago, she brought me on board, and we’ve become quite the little family.

A very successful family.

“Are you done scoping out the room yet?” Deck asks, breaking into my thoughts.

I nod, finishing my beer. “Yep.”

We pay the bill and return to our individual rooms. Normally, I might’ve lingered, eventually making my way up to the bar if I spotted a pretty woman.

Or sometimes we like to hit the town, check out the newest and hottest club.

I usually only do that if I’m in the mood to get laid.

Other times, we just happen to have invites, courtesy of The Man, to a party on a yacht or a movie premiere or something equally glamorous.

It’s a great way to mingle with potential targets and let off some steam.

To be honest, what used to be fun and exciting has lost some of its shine. It’s just as well, because I’m not in the mood right now. Besides, tomorrow is a big day, and today has already been too long. I’m ready to crash.

“See you bright and early,” Deck says, opening his door.

“Not too early,” I call as he disappears inside with a chuckle. The man loves getting up at the ass-crack of dawn for some ungodly reason. But me? I need my beauty sleep.

I take a quick shower, climb into the big bed and automatically reach for my phone.

I already texted Addie to let her know we’d arrived, and we’ll make contact again before and after the heist. I avoid social media like the plague, but I check my email, tomorrow’s weather and spend some time playing a game I’m addicted to which involves puzzles and numbers.

After easily beating ten levels, I grow bored, toss my phone aside and turn out the lights.

Stretching, I yawn loudly, and it occurs to me this is an awfully big bed for one person. Guess it doesn’t matter. If I’d invited anyone in here to join me, it would only be for a couple hours, anyway.

Better to sleep alone and get some shut-eye, because morning will arrive far faster than I’d like.

∞∞∞

Deck and I spend the day going over the mansion’s layout and the safe’s schematics. Preparation and research are key components to any successful heist—but knowledge will only get us so far. Luckily, we’ve got plenty of skill and experience, too.

While I’m going in as a guest, sporting my custom-tailored Tom Ford tuxedo, Deck is practically anonymous in black pants, a white shirt and tie just like all the other waiters.

Normally, you’d think a big guy like him would stand out, but nope.

Linc Decker is just that good, easily blending in with his surroundings.

It’ll be child’s play for him to slip into the side door, then bypass the kitchen and head straight for the safe located in Torres’ office.

Meanwhile, I get to rub elbows with the guests for a little while.

“Ready?” Deck asks.

I tuck my trusty Glock 19 in the holster hidden beneath my jacket. As prepared as I always am, you can never be too careful. “Let’s go.”