That’s a good question. She’s not my assistant.
“I don’t know.”
If I do call her, I’ll have to borrow Maria’s phone. I still haven’t turned mine back on yet.
“I’m going to bed. Thanks again for letting me stay here.” I head to the guest room and get ready for bed. I wish I were at my cabin, where it’s quiet and peaceful. But Bob knows about it. Maybe I can stay at Maria’s place up there. I’ll ask Maria about it in the morning.
I close my eyes. I might have put myself in danger, but I’m tired of hiding. Tomorrow, I’ll take control of my situation.
CHAPTER 10
Axel
We take turns napping on the floor while one of us keeps an eye on the warehouse. Bob returns around ten in the morning. There are no visitors, and Bob leaves around dinner.
“He can’t be there all day every day because he has listings,” Stevens says, staring at her phone.
“We need to get inside,” Durango says. “There are probably more guns in there.”
“I agree,” I say.
“He leaves at night, so I’ll bet he has cameras,” Stevens says. “Or a security system.”
“How far away does he live?”
Stevens pulls up maps on her phone. “Twenty minutes.”
Durango grins. “We have twenty minutes then.” He goes to his bag and then tosses something black at me.
It’s a ski mask.
I put it on. “Good call.”
Once his is on, Durango and I head out the back door with flashlights in hand. We go around the building and across the street. We walk down the side of the building where we have seen Bob go each day.
There’s a door with a code to get in. We continue around to the back, which faces the water. There is a large garage door and a window.
“It might be run down, but this property must be worth a lot,” I whisper.
“Agreed,” Durango says.
He tries to open the window, but it won’t budge. The garage door is old with a lock on the outside. I try to open it from the bottom, but it doesn’t move, either.
“I got this,” Durango says.
I step out of the way, and he pulls a diamond pick out of his back pocket. He attempts to pick the lock on the garage door.
“Dammit!” he says.
A man’s voice approaches. We both duck down into the shadows and peer around the corner. Two men walk by on the sidewalk. Neither is Bob.
“Let me try,” I say.
He hands me the pick, and I’m successful on my first try.
“Looks like you need more practice,” I say, handing him the pick.
“You just got lucky.”
