Page 1 of Point Blank

Chapter

One

Serena scanned the hundreds of tuxedos and sparkly gowns glittering in the light of the lanterns that decorated the lawn. She hovered at the back of the crowd closest to the tables of food while everyone faced the entertainment on the stage. The band struck up, and bodies moved to the cello’s delicate strums. Peyton gave one nod from the dessert table before turning to add a treat to her plate.

Time to get the diamonds.

Serena pressed her finger to her ear, and her lips hovered over the tiny mic hidden on her dangly bracelet. “I’m heading inside,” she whispered. She dug her fingers into her silver clutch at her waist. If she got caught and they emptied her clutch, she’d be fucked. No way she could pass off the tools inside as makeup.

“Copy that,” Dani chimed in her ear. Her sister was always at her bubbliest while on a heist.

“I’m in position.” Peyton’s confirmation rang through the bud in her ear. If shit went south, or if Alban decided to head into the house early, Peyton would create a diversion.

“I’ve got eyes on Alban,” Dani reported. “He’s getting ready for his speech. Eleven of the fourteen guards are outside.”

Shit. That meant three were inside. Serena turned from the hors d’oeuvres table and scooped up the train of her black sequined evening gown. Alban held parties only twice a year—the lawn party, in August, and the New Year’s Eve party. It had to be tonight, and it had to be now—Uncle Sebastian left them no other choice.

She climbed almost a dozen stone steps to the open parlor doors and breezed inside. Her thigh grazed the navy tufted settee. The blue-and-gold Persian rug muffled her stilettos’ heels. The vanilla scent of cigars saturated the room, and she wrinkled her nose. The heads of animals—including an elephant—hung on the wall. She shuddered and forced a mouthful of saliva down her throat.

Alban Moussa was known for his trophy hunts in the northern region of Africa, his native country. But that wasn’t all he hunted. Blood diamonds were his specialty. And tonight, the diamonds—four million dollars’ worth to be exact—would buy her and her sister’s freedom.

“I’m inside,” she whispered into her wrist. She hovered near the parlor’s open door and peered into the hallway. Footsteps scuffed down the hallway and she pressed her back against the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut, turned her head so her ear pressed against the wallpaper, and focused on slowing her breathing.

“Oh yeah, sexy. I’ll be home when this bullshit party is over. Another couple of hours, tops. You’d better be naked when I get there.”

Ew, gross.

Serena cracked one eyelid open and twisted her mouth as the heavy, bald guard passed. He turned toward the kitchen and his voice tapered off as he went. Her breath sailed through her lips, and she lifted her hand to brush back the drop of sweat that had formed at her hairline.

“Another guard stepped outside, so there’s only two roaming the house,” Dani said in her ear.

“One’s headed toward the kitchen.”

Dani was waiting in the trees of the hillside beyond Alban’s Beverly Hills property. Once Serena had the diamonds, Dani would direct her to the nearest unguarded exit, where Peyton would meet her. They’d be out long before Alban realized the diamonds were missing. This mission would be a breeze—she knew exactly where to find the diamonds, and the best time to avoid tripping alarms was during one of his parties.

She broke away from the wall and into the well-lit hallway, where she found a small freestanding sign with a W scrawled on it and an arrow pointed in the direction the guard had disappeared. She swept her gaze down the hall and then turned in the opposite direction, toward a wide spiral staircase. A felt rope blocked off the steps to the second level. She pinched her clutch under her arm, unhooked the metal hinge, and ascended a step before returning the rope. Gripping the stiff material of her dress, she bounded up the stairs on the balls of her feet.

“S, you need to hurry,” Dani said. “I want you guys out of there in ten minutes.”

“Easy, Dani,” Peyton said. “Let her do her job.”

Serena bit her tongue. She wouldn’t waste a second responding. Anyone walking down the hall would see her on the stairs. The lush carpet swallowed up the pound of her shoes. She made it to the top level and skirted to a small inlet next to a solid ornate table against the wall. She was hidden enough that she could scan the hall of the second level undetected.

“I’m upstairs. Have you spotted the last guard yet?”

“No. It’s too hard to see in the second-story windows. I did a count and I’ve got my eyes on thirteen. But you need to hurry.” Her sister spoke in a higher pitch than usual. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Serena bit down a curse. “That’s not helpful.” In her mind, she painted a picture of the blueprints for the second level. She’d spent the last week memorizing them. Alban’s suite was at the end of the hall. By normal housing standards this wouldn’t be that far, but in a twelve-thousand-square-foot mansion . . . Luckily, she was in the correct wing. If she’d entered through the north wing, getting to his suite would be like navigating an obstacle course.

“I’m not here to be helpful. I’m here to rush your ass out of there before you get caught.”

“I hate to be the one to say this, Dani, but you were a lot more fun to work with when Brock was with us. Just saying.” Peyton’s flippant comment sent Serena’s eyeballs rolling. Of all the things to bring up on a heist—Dani’s traitorous ex-boyfriend, a guy they’d all been friends with since childhood. The silence that beat through Serena’s earpiece was that of a brewing storm.

“He lied to me, Priss. He cut me out of a damn job. You know I can’t forgive him.” If Peyton noticed the use of her nickname, she didn’t comment.

“Oh I know. He’s a prick for what he did. But, I mean, it’s Brock. I saw him the other day and?—”

Serena adjusted the waves of her hair and pulled out the earbud. She needed peace and quiet before venturing into the open hall, and their conversation wasn’t headed anywhere good.