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But things weren’t adding up. He took a page out of Kira’s playbook and headed for the trash cans. His goal was to see who might be coming and going from the back of the house while Kira watched the front.

He ducked behind the bins, mulling over the facts of the case while pushing out thoughts of Kira. The silky soft texture of her hair in his fingers. Those hazel eyes—although he missed her true deep brown eye color. Her soft red lips.

Get your head in the game, Lambert.

This was his case and no way would an attraction on par with a middle school crush get in his way. The wind shifted and he caught a whiff of something foul. He’d stay another few minutes, then find somewhere he could pull in a deep breath. Once the police swarmed the place, he didn’t want to be found hiding in the backyard.

A scratching sound caught his attention, and he looked up from his crouching position. Someone was opening a window at the back of the Dominiks’ house.

And crawling out of it.

In the shadows of night, Bryce couldn’t make out features. It was definitely a thin but fit man, dressed in all black. The guy wore a knit cap low over his forehead, helping to shadow his features. The person’s feet hit the ground with a soft thud, then he walked away like he was taking an evening stroll.

Should he follow or not? If the man recognized Bryce, then it would be game over for his cover. He placed a hand on his weapon.

Against his better judgment, Bryce shot off a quick text to Kira and took off in the direction the man headed. Fleeing a murder scene. While doing his best to disguise himself. Yeah. Sketchy.

Sirens echoed in the distance. Bryce walked down the driveway to the access road, where he caught sight of the man crossing the road and heading into the woods. The guy probably had a car stashed on the other side of the trees.

Red and blue lights flickered off the asphalt, but the officers hadn’t made their way to the back of the units yet. On the surface, it would appear as though a security officer had shot an intruder, but the police would investigate every square inch of the neighborhood shortly. Bryce picked up his speed but hung back far enough so as to remain undetected. He maneuvered his way to the edge of the woods and dropped down to one knee as if tying his shoe and scanned the area.

Saw nothing.

Bryce proceeded deeper into the wooded area and hid in the shadows behind a thick tree trunk. Everything was quiet, but he waited.

The bark next to Bryce’s head shattered, and he dove for the overgrown bushes next to the tree to take cover. Another bullet shaved leaves off the shrubs above him.

This man was shooting at him—with a suppressor attached to his weapon.

His heart hammered while he tried to locate the shooter. This was more than a security guard killing some sort of intruder. Bryce knew in his gut this guy was getting rid of anyone tied to this buried treasure. Once he got to safety, he’d message Turner. The Bureau needed to send someone to watch his father’s house. If they associated those journals with his dad—or worse, had watched Bryce and Kira visit his dad’s trailer—there could be more visitors to his childhood home.

He needed to move. The bushes weren’t protecting him from bullets. Voices filtered through the cool night air from the front of the neighborhood. But toward the back, Bryce didn’t detect any movement or noise. The man might be gone.

Or he’d doubled back.

A light flashed in his pocket. He pulled his phone out, and Kira’s text popped up on the screen, asking him for a status update. He didn’t want her heading his way, not with an active shooter.

Before he could fire off a reply, a twig snapped.

“Don’t move.” The voice rasped from behind him. “It’s not very neighborly to follow someone.”

Russian accent. A gun pressed into the base of his neck. Bryce, crouching near the bushes, raised his hands, still clutching his phone. “I wasn’t sure who you were,” he said, praying the guy’s finger wouldn’t twitch. “With the break-in next door, I thought I’d make sure you belonged here.” This guy could shoot him, and even with police officers swarming the front of the neighborhood, could disappear before anyone showed up to investigate the shot. “I’m just protecting my home, my wife. I don’t want any conflict.”

The phone in his hand lit up again. If he didn’t text Kira back, she’d show up and be in just as much danger as he was. Not to mention the fact that if she startled the man holding the gun to him, things might not end well.

“What do you want?” The voice was gruff, and the man pressed the gun muzzle farther into Bryce’s neck. “Why are you here?”

Bryce sucked in a breath. A hundred scenarios spun through his mind, but he landed on taking the direct approach with this guy. “Treasure. I want Zaika for a private collector. He will pay top dollar for it.”

Bryce couldn’t see the man holding the gun against him, but he felt the flinch at his words. “And you think we have information regarding that?” the man said.

“I don’t know who you are. We moved in and met the Dominiks. I had heard Alex had connections to get me into the auction. That’s it. I swear.”

Bryce needed to find out who this man worked for. Normal security guards didn’t jump through back windows. This guy had the makings of an assassin posing as high-priced security.

“Who are you?” Bryce pivoted his head slightly to glimpse his attacker, but the pressure on the gun against his neck intensified so he stopped. “Tell me what you want and I can help you. I’m connected to some powerful people with money. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Voices grew closer. The police must be moving through the area, scouring for clues now that they’d triaged the front of the neighborhood. While only a few minutes had elapsed, Bryce’s current predicament dragged on for an eternity.