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Fuck Theo for ever coming up with that idea. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to lead you into danger.”

“I’m going with you.”

“So you think.” She opens her mouth to argue, and I hold up a hand, which magically keeps her silent. “I’m not doing this. I need to make a plan.”

“Ridiculous.” With her arms folded, she sits down on the foot of the bed, where she’s been flipping through streaming services, looking for something to distract her. “Why even bother bringing me if I’m not worth bringing along?”

Her question gives me pause. Why did I bring her along? I didn’t really think about it before. I just wanted her company, I guess. Weird. Would I miss her if she weren’t here?

I don’t have the mental bandwidth to unpack those feelings right now. Instead, I pull up a satellite image of Matteo’s estate in Malibu. While I’ve never been there, I’ve heard enough about it over the years to know where it’s located. “You want to be useful?” I ask, studying the layout, the access points. “You can come with me to do a little recon tonight. We’ll be far enough away from the mansion that it should be low risk. But you have to follow my lead. Got it?”

“Like a stakeout?” she asks with too much hope in her voice.

“This is all still a game to you, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s not a game.” She tosses the remote aside, wearing a sour expression. “But it is better than being bored to tears.” Something tells me she is not being completely honest. But I don’t really want to know.

The estate is only a forty-minute drive from the hotel, but June does her best to fit in as many questions as possible during that time. “So how are we getting in when the time comes? What are we thinking?”

“There you go again, using the word we.”

“You said it’s a masquerade, right? That’s what it said in that press release?”

“Yes, that’s what it is.”

“It should be easy, right? Everyone will be in disguise, or at least wearing masks. Nobody will recognize you. And I’m sure they don’t know what I look like,” she adds. I don’t have the heart to tell her she could be very wrong about that. Matteo knows what he’s doing, and it wouldn’t be hard to find a picture of June, since she is a published author. Anytime a complication comes up, he’d want to know all there is to know about that complication, and as soon as possible. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a file on her.

I slow the car as traffic thins and the number of structures around us along with it. “We’re a few miles out now,” I explain. “I’ll park far enough away that we won’t be noticed.”

“I trust you.” If only she didn’t sound so excited, with all that anticipation bubbling under the surface. I park on the other side of a thick row of trees leading up into the hills. Below, there’s what looks like a small army at work. People coming and going from inside the mansion. Some are armed, while others carry stacks of chairs and roll large round tables from the backs of enormous trucks.

“They’re getting ready for the party,” June muses while I reach into the back seat to pull out a pair of binoculars I brought along. “Oh! That’s so cool. Can I have a pair?”

“I only brought one.”

“Can we take turns?”

“What do you think the answer to that question is?” The armed men pace, smoke, chat among themselves while observing the work being done. They probably searched the trucks before allowing anyone inside.

“I know.” She snaps her fingers and barely stops short of shouting Eureka. “They could wheel in a giant cake.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” She’s come up with some good ones before, but this is enough to make me forget the binoculars for a minute.

“You know. A giant cake for us to hide in.” I really wish there was humor in her voice.

“It’s official.” I sigh, raising the binoculars again. “You watch too much TV.”

“I’m sure it’s been done in real life.”

“Somehow I doubt it.” There’s nobody down there I recognize, not that I expected to. Matteo tends to shuffle his guards around like they’re a deck of cards. He doesn’t trust easily. Hell, maybe he doesn’t trust at all. I don’t blame him. There is no honor among thieves . . . or any other criminals.

The ground slopes upward between the mansion and where we sit. I let my gaze sweep the rocky, uneven ground for any sign we’ve been spotted—someone could easily conceal themselves down there while I sit here, listening to June’s attempts at spycraft.

A flash of metal makes me reach out and grab her wrist, squeezing hard enough to draw a wince from her. “Stop. Somebody’s down there.”

“Down where? Let me see!” she hisses.

Every red flag in existence is waving in my head by the time I lower the binoculars to check my Glock. “Stay here. Don’t move a muscle.”