Page 33 of The Scarab's Game

But Jenn.

I’d be leaving Jenn here with Enzo in the building. A wave of nausea flowed through me. I couldn’t leave her alone here with the wolves. But I also couldn’t let her see me like this.

Call in backup? No, I couldn’t let theteamsee me like this. Scarlett or Mum would force me home and into therapy. They’d ban me from doing any ops until a stranger decided I was ready.

Fuck that.

I was better than that.

After one final clench, I stuffed the poker chip back into my pocket and braced myself against the wall. Stood up. Knees weakbut functional. My pulse thrummed in my neck, but I had more important things to worry about.

Step one: Slip out of the restroom, out of the employee hallway, and across to Jenn.

Step two: Tell her we need to go. Concoct some excuse about her safety and escort her out the back door.

Step three: Run for it? Fuck, no. If I let her see my panic, she’d lose her rock. That’s what I was for her last night in her hotel room. She’d been losing it, and I was her rock. If I couldn’t keep my shit together, I’d be useless.

Still not good enough.

Never good enough.

The real step three: Channel all my mental energy into willing Enzo to stay in the gallery long enough for Jenn and?—

“And the scarab?” Enzo’s voice snapped me back into the moment. They were passing my restroom again. “I heard it was back from the goldsmith?”

I stood my ground, pressing my ear to the door.Sold, was it, JP?

“We’ll take it to the auction coordinator tonight. I’d planned to take it with the painting, but the art restorer’s not finished yet.”

“Bene. I’ll be in Nice this afternoon,” said Enzo, “but will be back when the truck’s ready. Check on the restorer before you leave. I don’t like what happened at her?—”

The door exiting the short hallway opened and closed, shutting me out from the rest of their conversation. I leaned my forehead against the door and went inward.Find your control.Focus on what’s important.

Enzo was in Monte Carlo. He was one of the Fenix Group’s captains. They were here.

Massimo and Dante were working with them.

The scarab was going to the same auction as the painting Jenn was working on. Jean-Philippe’s lie about it being sold and Brie not finding it in their inventory were of little import now. Cozying up to Massimo didn’t matter, either. He was working with fucking Fenix.

I fumbled for my phone and texted Scarlett with shaking hands:Can’t talk.Tell the team Enzo’s in town.

Her shockedWhat?!reply came quickly, but I didn’t have time for a discussion.

Protecting Jenn was now my priority. It wasn’t about my conscience anymore. Or about mistrusting a man who wasn’t right for her. Or the look in her eyes when she started panicking in her room last night. It was about keeping her safe. Enzo didn’t sound like he knew her link to Reynolds Recoveries—we had to keep it that way.

Now all I had to do was put my professional face back on, hide the jammer in the kitchenette, pay for my little blue scarab, and get Jenn the hell out of here.

Chapter 13

Jenn

I droppeda cotton ball into the waste jar and straightened from my stooped position. I stretched my back, twisted at the waist, and rolled my wrists. I was a quarter of the way through the cleaning process, the bright colors ofWheatfieldspringing back to life.

No matter what the conservator had written in his notes, he’d used Merrivar varnish. After doing my own tests, I’d been able to grab a bottle of Merrisol mineral spirits to remove it, and the layer of grime came up quickly.

My body had been growing accustomed to this sort of work since I started with Aunt Penny, but between the poor sleep last night and my worries about the painting’s authenticity, my muscles were crying for a break.

I checked my watch. Emmett had left me three hours ago. Two hours ago, I’d taken the camera to Dante, who gave me digital copies of the UV photos, which I forwarded to Dr. Ferraro. He didn’t expect results until tomorrow, but he and his wife were on the case.