The tattooed man near the loading dock pushed off the column and unfolded his arms, revealing a hunting knife in a belt sheath at his hip."Here's what's going to happen, Mr. Miles. You're going to tell me where you keep the stones. You're going to give me the keys to whatever safe or storage facility holds them. And then you're going to sit very still while my brother and I take care of the rest." Marcus leaned forward, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Every camera within three blocks of this building went dark an hour ago. No footage, no witnesses, no trail. When we're finished with you, Dr. Ricci on Via Tuscolana will make sure nothing goes to waste. Heart, kidneys, liver. You'd be surprised how much a healthy man your age is worth on the private market."Sean stared at Marcus for a long, silent moment. Then he let his shoulders drop, his chin lower, and his hands open on the table in a gesture of surrender so convincing that Kyle actually stopped walking and exchanged

Marcus froze. Every muscle in his body locked in place. He turned around slowly, inch by inch, until he was facing Sean across ten feet of empty concrete. The candlelight caught the barrel of the gun and turned it gold."Where is my brother?" Marcus's voice came out strangled."Same place you were going to send me. Except Dr. Ricci won't be making any house calls tonight." Sean's expression was empty, hollowed out, the face of a man who had crossed a line a long time ago and found nothing on the other side worth going back for.Marcus's legs buckled. He dropped to his knees on the concrete floor, his expensive suit crumpling beneath him, his hands rising in front of his face like they could stop a bullet."Please. I have money. I have connections. I can give you anything you want. Anything. Just let me walk out of here." Marcus's voice broke into something wet and desperate, tears cutting lines through the sweat on his face."You were going to harvest my organs and sell them on the bla

Harrison rubbed the back of his neck and let out a long, heavy breath. "Marcus Webb supplied those ornaments to our vault six months ago as part of a larger consignment. If they're counterfeit, it means he's been seeding fakes into our inventory and we've been passing them along to buyers without knowing.""How many other buyers received stones from that consignment?" Sean's voice sharpened."At least a dozen." Harrison's face went pale. "This could destroy our reputation.""That's your problem to sort out, Harrison. I need something else from you." Sean collected the five counterfeits and slipped them back into the velvet pouch."Name it." Harrison looked relieved to change the subject."Where do I go if I want to buy raw gemstones in serious quantity? Not retail, not auction. Wholesale, direct from source, the kind of volume that dealers don't usually sell to individual buyers." Sean pocketed the pouch and folded his arms.Harrison exchanged a glance with Harper, who raised one eyebr

The Alitalia flight from Fiumicino to Tucson was nearly full.Sean boarded through the forward cabin door and found his seat in row twelve, aisle side, where he could stretch his legs and keep a clear line of sight down the length of the aircraft.He tucked his carry on into the overhead bin and settled in with the leather folder Harper Burke had prepared for him, twenty pages of dealer contacts, booth maps, and pricing notes for the Tucson gem district.He was scanning the first page when a familiar voice carried down the aisle from somewhere behind him."Babe, I specifically asked for a window seat. This is a middle. How am I supposed to sleep in a middle seat for eleven hours?" Tyler Jones stood in row fourteen, two rows back and across the aisle, holding his boarding pass like it had personally insulted him."Tyler, just sit down. We can switch once the plane takes off." Natalie's voice was patient and soft, the tone of a woman who had learned to manage small problems before they b

The cabin held its breath. Sean stood in the aisle with a rifle pointed at his chest, the snake mask's finger still resting against the trigger guard, two hundred passengers watching from behind their armrests like animals frozen in headlights.Sean lowered his hands slowly and let his shoulders drop. Then he did something that made every person on that plane question his sanity."You're right. The captain isn't going to open that door for you. Not like this." Sean's voice shifted. Softer now, almost sympathetic, like a man switching sides in the middle of a war. "But he might open it for me."Snake mask tilted his head. The rifle barrel dipped by two inches. "What are you talking about?""I'm talking about getting what you want without blowing a hole in this aircraft. The captain won't negotiate with masked men waving guns. But if a passenger walks up to that door and tells him the situation is under control, that the passengers have agreed to cooperate, he'll listen. Pilots are train