“Fifteen minutes on foot.”

She went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, stripping off the expensive suit and pulling on khaki cargos and a long-sleeved T-shirt of the same color. Thick socks and boots came next, and she slapped a hat over the wig to keep her hair out of her face.

When she came out of the room, Jack was sitting at the dining table with two laptops open in front of him. He’d be able to see the inside of the museum once Gabe got all the sensors in place.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart,” he said, giving her a wink.

“Nice,” Ethan said. “I’m sure your SEALs loved to be called sweetheart when you were on missions.”

Grace winked back and pulled a pair of eye protectors from her gun case. She put the strap of the rifle across her body so it lay across her back, and she opened the balcony door of the suite. A hot wind slapped at her face and clothes. The balcony was large, and the railing around the outside was more than chest high and made of solid stone. But at each corner the architects had ignored safety and gone for artistry instead. Wrought iron bars spiraled out of the smooth concrete floor and tapered into a jumble of twisted metal that resembled something faintly feminine and erotic.

Sand swirled across the floor in lazy patterns, and she got down on hands and knees, adjusting her position until she lay flat on the ground. She pulled her rifle around and set it up so it was propped on the tiny stand that would keep it stable if the wind shifted, though she was protected fairly well by the high balcony walls.

“Approaching the first checkpoint,” Gabe said softly.

“Grim Reaper in position and placing outside sensors,” Logan said. The outside sensors would only be placed on the side of the museum that Grace was blinded to. They didn’t have enough cameras to monitor the entire perimeter, so her eyes would have to be good enough.

“Hot damn,” Jack said. “Will you look at that? They actually work.”

“Of course they work,” Ethan said, offended. “You stick to being the brawn, Renegade. I’ll be the brains.”

“Of course, we still don’t know if they’ll override the system. We could have the Iranian Revolutionary Guard surround us in minutes if they don’t. I’ve been in an Iranian prison. It isn’t fun, and I’d prefer not to go back.”

“They’ll work,” Ethan growled.

“I’ve got you in my sights, Ghost,” Grace said, using her scope to pick Gabe out of the busy pedestrian traffic in front of the museum. She panned around the building, looking for threats or unknowns that might pop up. “It sure is nice of them to have all those big windows everywhere. Christ, I can basically see right through the whole place. Everyone is a sitting duck.”

“Geez, bloodthirsty are you? Too bad you’re not here to kill anyone,” Ethan said.

“The biggest challenge for you guys isn’t going to be getting in and out,” Grace said. “It’s going to be keeping to the shadows so some Good Samaritan walking down the street doesn’t see you and turn you in. It’s literally a glass house.”

“I’ve gotten in and out of worse places,” Jack said.

“It looks like luck is going to be on your side,” Ethan said. “The National Weather Service has just sent out an alert for an approaching sandstorm. It’s not a large one, but it should do the trick.”

“Ghost just placed the first sensor inside the entryway. I’ve got a clear picture coming through on my screen.”

“I see him,” Grace said. “The curator has terrible taste in clothes. That’s the most hideous tie I’ve ever seen. I’ll give you fifty bucks, Ghost, if you tell him so.” Laughter filled her earpiece and she saw Gabe’s lips tighten at the corners.

“All of my sensors are in place,” Logan said. “Am I clear to head back?”

“Just a minute,” Ethan said. “Let me make sure I’ve got a good visual here.” Silence reigned for a few minutes as Ethan messed with the electronic end of things. “Okay, we’re good to go. I’ve got a complete visual of the back of the museum. Line of sight ends about a hundred feet out.”

“You’re clear to come back, Grim Reaper. You haven’t picked up any unusual traffic.” Grace adjusted her view and panned around Logan, his right hand in the pocket of his business suit and a briefcase in his other as he joined the pedestrians on the sidewalk.

“Ghost is on the third floor now,” Jack reported. “We’ve got a visual of the control room doors and the painting. It’s an ugly bastard. I can see why Hitler turned to tyranny.”

“Here we go,” Ethan said. “Ghost just placed the last sensor. You’ll see the visuals on your screen, Renegade, as soon as I tap into their system. Circuits are going live now.”

Grace watched Gabe and the curator both look up at the ceiling as the lights inside the museum flickered. But no guards came running out of the control room yelling that they’d been breached, so she let out the breath she’d been holding.

“And we’re in,” Ethan said smugly. “Told you they’d work. All monitors are up—stairwells, elevators, bathrooms, the employee lounge, and all areas of the museum, including the restricted areas, are visible. Mission accomplished.”

Grace panned through the crowd of faces outside the museum looking for threats. Something was making her uneasy, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. But the feeling was gone the moment she saw the gleam of black curls in the reflection of her scope. The girl’s scarf had blown around her shoulders, and a blue bow was tied in her hair. She rested her head on her mother’s shoulder and tapped chubby fingers to an internal tune against the woman’s back. The curve of the little girl’s cheek was so familiar that pain rushed down Grace’s spine and her muscles seized.

“No,” she moaned, her mouth going dry and her heart leaping in her chest with hope—just a glimmer of hope that it might really be Maddie. She didn’t hear the change of her breathing or the animal cries of pain that escaped from her throat.

The little girl turned her head, and Grace saw black eyes instead of Gabe’s clear blue, and her world crashed around her once again. Her hands shook, and her rifle clattered to the concrete. She pulled her legs up and hugged her knees as she tried to get control. She closed her eyes, and images bombarded her mind, piercing her soul with the accuracy of a well-aimed knife. The darkness slithered across her body like thick tar and clung to her without remorse as it suffocated her thoughts and hopes and dreams.

No, no, no she screamed over and over in her mind. It wasn’t her daughter down there hugging another woman—a woman that didn’t know what true emptiness felt like. Maddie was gone. Gone forever. Grace’s body felt battered as rage and pain fought to find something solid to anchor itself to. She wanted to scream—to lash out—to fight, but she knew she had to keep it all inside. It was her pain, her loss, and she didn’t want to share it with anyone.

“Shit, snap out of it, Grace.”

Jack’s voice sounded as if it were coming from underwater—distorted and slow—the urgency her subconscious knew should be there diluted by something greater. Her body was floating, and she thought, finallythis is finally the end.

Reality slapped her in the face with a cold hand, and she sputtered and spit as frigid water rained down on her face from the showerhead and soaked her to the skin.

Her mind was a jumble of memories, and Jack’s face became clear as the blackness started to fade. His mouth was a thin line, and she could see the worry in his eyes. She could also see the anger. She’d compromised them all—put the entire team in danger—even though they were only doing a routine run-through. But Jack had every right to be mad because she’d known this could happen going into the mission, and she hadn’t shared it with the team.

“What the fuck is going on?” she heard Ethan yell.

She rolled to her hands and knees and pushed up slowly, her muscles stiff and protesting. Strings of red hair hung down her face. She’d lost the wig somewhere. Her teeth chattered, and the cold wracked her body in spasms.

“I’m in the lobby,” Gabe said in her ear. “I want everyone offline by the time I get upstairs. We’ll have a team briefing in a half hour. Everyone meet in the suite. No arguments. And Ethan, if I find out you’ve patched through to listen in, there won’t be a box small enough for what’s left of your body to go back to your mother. Understood?”

“Loud and clear. Dragon is out.”

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