Page 189 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

His cerulean suit was torn at one shoulder. A smear of blood ran from his temple to his jaw. He looked personally insulted by the concept of injury.

“There you are,” he snapped.

I stopped beside Rafe. “You’re welcome?”

Rafe looked past him. “The secured room.”

Dimitris’s mouth tightened. “They know where it is.”

“Because you showed half the world your house on television,” I said.

His eyes cut to me.

I lifted one hand. “I’m not saying this to be cruel. I’m saying it because someone has to, and apparently your staff is too scared to speak.”

He looked genuinely blank, then realization moved across his face. “Oh,” he said.

Rafe’s expression didn’t change, but something about him seemed deeply satisfied.

Dimitris recovered quickly because men with that much money never stayed embarrassed long enough to learn. “The secure room cannot be opened without me. They’ll steal whatever lesser pieces they can carry. I’ll hunt them down later.”

“Your lesser pieces are being thrown into crates by men using crowbars,” I said. “They’re not exactly wearing cotton gloves and whispering apologies.”

That got him.

His gaze sharpened toward the hall as another crash sounded below.

Dimitris went very still.

“Move,” Rafe said.

Dimitris listened.

The three of us and Max descended a narrow staircase behind a panel that looked like decorative woodwork and absolutely was not. The air grew colder. Lights embedded in the floor led us to a steel door at the end of a short corridor. The panel beside it hung open, wires exposed.

Dimitris made a sound that belonged in a more expensive opera.

“They disabled the silent alarm,” Rafe said.

“No one can disable my silent alarm.”

“Well, clearly, someone did,” I hissed.

Dimitris glared at the panel. His phone rang. No one moved.

It was such an ordinary sound that for half a second my brain refused to place it inside the moment. Dimitris took the phone from his pocket, looked at the screen, and answered without speaking.

A man’s voice came through, smooth and close enough to hear. “Open the room, Dimitris.”

Rafe’s shoulders squared.

Luke.

I knew it before Dimitris said, “Gildstein.”

The name moved through the corridor like a draft.

“I have been patient,” Luke said. “You have collected irresponsibly. You have displayed your wares irresponsibly. You have hidden behind guards, codes, myth, and that ridiculous documentary smile. Open the room, or I remove the room.”