It Started With a Heist

Chapter 12

JAKE

"Are you sure you don't want me there with you?" Luke asked, his brows furrowed with concern. "I could pose as your bodyguard or something."

I smiled, fastening the fake Rolex securely around my wrist. "I'll be fine. Plus, I've got my lucky charm right here."

The watch was equipped with a GPS tracker and voice transmitter—my lifeline to the team if things went sideways.

Luke let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders tense. "Just promise me you'll watch your back. Declan's small-time, sure, but with Vitale backing him? That makes him a whole different kind of dangerous."

For weeks, we had poured everything into unraveling Declan's criminal network—endless stakeouts, dissecting every detail of his operations, and gathering evidence piece by piece. The breakthrough had come when intel confirmed his involvement in smuggling stolen Egyptian artifacts. It was the opening we needed to nail him.

Tonight, I would be stepping into the role of Charles Kingsley, a wealthy art collector with an insatiable hunger for rare and questionable antiquities. Through our informants, we had spread the word that Kingsley was looking for something exclusive. It didn't take long for Declan, ever the opportunist, to take the bait.

Now, all that was left was to play the part and hope everything went according to plan.

I gave Luke's shoulder a firm squeeze. "You know I could handle Declan blindfolded. Besides, you guys are just one activation phrase away."

A grin finally tugged at his lips. "Damn right, we are."

I returned the smile, slipping on my suit jacket with a flourish. Adjusting my tailored suit, I paused to catch my reflection in the window. Charles Kingsley, spoiled heir and eccentric collector, stared back at me with a self-assured smirk.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar figure—Michael Ashford, my boss—leaning against the stairway railing. Around him, the team buzzed with activity, strapping on bulletproof vests and performing last-minute equipment checks. Ashford's expression remained unreadable, but when he gave me a small nod, the message was unmistakable—don't mess this up.

Needles to say, I wasn't planning to. Declan was the missing link between the buyer and the thieves, and bringing him in could unravel the entire network behind the Met case. There was no room for error.

Nodding back, I stepped into the elevator. As the doors slid shut, I caught one last glimpse of Luke briefing the team, ready to tail me at a safe distance to preserve my cover.

The 20-minute drive to the warehouse gave me time to survey the area. Parking a short distance away, I checked for exits and radioed the information back to the team.

My gun was tucked securely under my jacket, and the suitcase on the passenger seat held three hundred grand in cash courtesy of the Bureau. Of course, I had no intention of letting Declan—or anyone else—walk away with it.

As I stepped out of the car, I moved cautiously toward the warehouse, keeping an eye on my surroundings. The cold night air bit at my skin, and the quiet amplified every crunch of gravel beneath my shoes.

Near the entrance, the sound of footsteps echoed, and a figure emerged from the shadows.

"Charles Kingsley, I presume?"

I gave him a curt nod, my gaze sharp, silently urging him to hurry things up because my time was valuable.

"I've heard you're a man with an appreciation for the finer things," he said, his eyes narrowing as he studied me.