Code Name Heist (Jameson Force Security 3)

Regardless, it’s best if I get the hell out of Europe. The details have already been worked out. I’ve been traveling under alias identities since I left the States, including my brief trip back to Pittsburgh. I’ll be flying out under a separate one, including some fancy facial prosthetics to fool cameras. The folks at Jameson got Sin a new identity, too.

I can’t risk bringing in her dad right now. If—for any reason—Sin and I are on law enforcement’s radar, her dad needs to stay in London and play it cool. We’ll get him over to us soon, though.

And here is where I want to dream about the future. Sin and me in Pittsburgh, where I can continue my new career at Jameson and Sin can do whatever the hell she wants. School, work, or be a stay-at-home woman. The sky’s the limit for her.

We’ll need to figure out where to live. The apartment I’d been staying in at Jameson headquarters is fine for a single man, but I’m thinking a house on the outskirts of the city. With a few acres of land for privacy.

A big house. With room to grow should we pursue the dreams we used to talk about… having a family.

When I enter the city of Brussels, I creep along the streets, searching for my turn. I’d memorized the directions, not currently having a smartphone to Google them. The burner phone I have is like an old-school flip phone and only for actual conversations. There are no fancy apps to tell me how to get where I need to go.

I’d destroyed the smartphone I’d bought when I came to Paris, which I’d registered under one of my aliases and used locally with my new heist comrades. But it’s of no use to me anymore. While most of the information on it was benign, I took pains before we left for The Diamond Warehouse to destroy any trace of my actual existence here in Europe. The burner phone will meet a quick but complete death as soon as I’m ready to board the plane out of here.

While I was in Pittsburgh, Cruce and I had made the plans to take Sin out of the equation after the heist. The dude was a good friend to do all of this for me, even spending some time trying to talk me out of it. He made a good devil’s advocate, but I was set on my course. I wasn’t going to let Sin get anywhere near Julian Mercier once we left that warehouse.

We’d even picked out the hotel where I’m set to meet them. It’s in a seedier part of Brussels, chosen purely for the fact it doesn’t have any interior or exterior security cameras. We’re doing everything we can to avoid photos of us.

I abandon the Peugeot several blocks from the hotel after having wiped it down, despite the fact I’m still wearing gloves. I tossed the few things I’d still had on me in a small river I crossed on the road… the unconnected bomb trigger, the reverse jammer, and the pocket full of diamonds. Hated to do that, but I hadn’t wanted anything connected to me. Besides, the insurance consortium shouldn’t mind the loss considering what they’d be recovering after they raided Mercier’s estate.

The sun is starting to rise as I walk to the hotel, now trying to quell my nerves over seeing Sin. She is going to be beyond pissed.

Hell, she might even attack me.

I’ll let her have her moment, though, because I’ll deserve some of it.

But then I’m going to kiss the fuck out of her and demand she get over it, because we have a life to start.

There’s no one behind the clerk’s desk when I enter, so I move quickly to the single elevator, taking it to the third floor. Cruce has been here for three days, and he’d already made the final arrangements for our transportation out of here.

My heart is slamming inside my chest by the time I reach the room door. When I sharply rap my knuckles against it, I hear movement inside, then a grim-looking Cruce opens the door.

Apprehension takes hold and I push past him, searching the room and finding it empty. There’s no sign of Sin. A quick glance into the bathroom shows she isn’t there. I spin on Cruce, demanding, “Where is she?”

“She took off as soon as we got here,” he replies tiredly.

“Jesus, Cruce,” I growl in irritation. “What is it with you and losing women?”

If I weren’t so furious right now, I would laugh. Cruce had once lost Kynan’s fiancée, Joslyn, to a madman who’d been stalking her. Granted, Joslyn had very cleverly duped Cruce. His own woman, Barrett, had then gotten kidnapped right out from underneath him. I’ll concede there were extenuating circumstances—such as the flash-bang grenades used to disable him—but still.