He was dead.
Kane removed the earpiece and put it in his own ear. He disabled the microphone, so he could hear what was going on without fear of anyone hearing him. He took the guard’s weapon, a shoddy-looking 9mm that wouldn’t do much damage unless it was up close and personal. He searched him further and found a switchblade—not bad. Kane pocketed the 9mm and kept the knife in hand. A quieter way to silence someone if he had to.
The door was locked; a fail-safe, he supposed, but hardly one that would keep anyone in or out. Besides, he had no plans on using the door.
While Flores had outstanding external security, his internal security was less than adequate. There were no alarms on the windows or doors—and being on the second-floor south wing provided additional cover. He opened the window and slipped out. The decorative ledge was narrow and Kane wasn’t positive it would hold him, but the drop wouldn’t kill him.
Though the patrolling guards would if they heard him fall.
He put the knife in his mouth and shimmied over two windows until he reached a balcony.
Kane quietly climbed over the metal railing. A creak had him stopping, listening. He heard voices outside and down below—he couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were definitely a two-man patrol. Again, smart on Dominick’s part. He should have had two men guarding him on the inside. While Kane would have been able to take them both out, it would have been noisy, cutting down his lead time.
He listened again—they were moving away. Good. He didn’t have much time.
He carefully ran on light feet to the opposite end of the balcony, past two sets of French doors and two windows. They were partly lit, so he had to be quiet. He then put his hand on the handle of the third set of French doors. There was a light on, but he watched through the thin curtains and didn’t see anyone. He had the blueprints of the house firmly in mind, thanks to Gabriella. Of course she could be lying to him. She could have set him up.
But he didn’t think so. Not this time.
He pushed down on the handle. It clicked open. It didn’t mean anything, it could have simply been unlocked … or it could be a trap. But it was a small sign of hope.
He slipped into the room. It was a small sitting room. This was the suite Carson Spade shared with Jesse. Carson had a bedroom and den to the left, the windows that Kane had just passed. Jesse had a room on the right.
This all depended on Jesse now.
Kane walked to the door. He heard something behind him, in Carson’s room. Then nothing. Carson was up, but he wasn’t coming to the door. Kane opened Jesse’s door and closed it immediately behind him.
Jesse sat on the end of the bed playing a handheld video game. He was fully dressed. He had a backpack at his feet. For a split second, he looked so much like how Kane remembered Sean as a kid—hair too long, dimples that could get him out of trouble, but the tense jaw that said he was ready for a fight.
Jesse looked up. He whispered, “Sean was right.”
“He usually is, kid.”
Kane only marginally relaxed. Gabriella had done the two things Kane needed her to do—tell him which room was Jesse’s, and deliver Sean’s message.
“I saw you yesterday. Who are you?”
“Kane. Sean’s brother.”
Jesse tilted his head. Again, that inquisitive, too-smart look that Sean always wore. “My uncle.”
“Call me Kane.” He half smiled. “Less weird.”
“What now?”
“You can’t bring anything.”
Jesse glanced down at the backpack and nodded. He tossed the video game on the bed.
Kane reached under the mattress and retrieved a phone.
Thanks, G.
Okay, she had come through. Kane was going to owe her big time if they got out of this alive.
“Wow—I didn’t know that was there.”
He put his fingers to his lips. He sent Jack a message.
Got the package.
Kane listened. There were footsteps in the hall. They weren’t rushing, but that didn’t mean anything. He turned on the earpiece. No chatter about his escape.
Jack responded.
In position. We have company.
That must be Jasmine Flores, the half sister the guards were talking about.
“Now what?” Jesse asked.
“We wait.”
“Okay.” Jesse said. “I’m not good at being patient.”
“Neither is your dad,” Kane said. “Your real dad.” He took a good look at the kid. He was family. He was a Rogan.
Kane would die to save him.
*
Sean had counted down in his head after he signaled Kane. He’d seen the guard at the door go into the room for three minutes before exiting; that was going to cut everything far too close. But Sean trusted Kane.