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Ignoring Sophia, Bryce assumed an arrogant attitude and could only pray it was authentic. Kira was the actress. Not him. “That auction was going sideways to our purposes and you know it. I couldn’t let Mr. Solinger down.”

Bailey sported an expensive suit, looking like he’d just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. Tall, lean, but muscular. He folded his arms across his wide chest, ratcheting up his intimidation factor. “Someone please tell me why I had to fly across the country and drive to this barren wasteland?” His eyes shot invisible laser beams at Alex, and even Bryce wanted to flinch.

Alex matched Bailey’s hard glare. “I don’t even know who you are.”

The guard at the door waved his rifle, indicating they should enter the dilapidated house. They all pivoted their view to the front door that had rusted bolts and was hanging on by broken hinges.

Bryce stomped his feet, shaking the dust from his fancy shoes. “We’re only doing this so an innocent woman doesn’t die. I might take part in illicit art auctions, but I’m no murderer.”

Ivan grunted. “You’re doing this to protect your boss’s reputation. He doesn’t want the information I have to be leaked online.”

Bailey strode to the back of the sedan and popped the trunk open. He removed a bag and returned to the group still staring at the house. “Let’s go get this over with.” He marched forward, and Ivan fell in step behind him. Bryce and Alex followed.

Alex’s face was pale and his hands were shaking. Fear? Where was his arrogance? His confidence? Did he really care about his maid that much? Maybe the guy wasn’t completely heartless after all.

Sophia grabbed Bryce’s arm and pulled him aside, while the other men continued to the house. She leaned toward him to whisper. “You have to believe me. I’m not complicit in the Society’s affairs. I don’t even know who they are.”

Bryce shook off her hand. “I don’t believe that. You’ve been doing their bidding this whole time. I can’t imagine you don’t know who you are working for.”

“Don’t try to double-cross these men. You won’t win. I didn’t. Your wife certainly won’t come out of this alive. They want her dead.”

Rage seethed. “Katrina had nothing to do with this. I took advantage of the blackout and stole the statue. Solinger is paying us a hefty price.”

One of the gunmen grunted for them to move, and Sophia stomped toward the door of the house. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Bryce stepped onto the stairs with the splintered boards and rusty nails. The three guards brought up the rear. He followed Sophia and moved through the front entrance into the main room of the house and stopped short.

Natalia was tied to a chair. And gagged. A man in a ski mask pointed a gun at her temple. She wriggled and tried to scream, but the cloth shoved in her mouth and tied around her head muted most sound. The fear in her eyes begged him to do something.

“The statue.” The man swung the gun from Natalia to Bryce and then Bailey. “Put it on the fireplace mantel.”

Bailey’s face hardened. “Release your hostage. I want her to walk out of the cabin before I give you what you want.”

“You don’t call the shots.”

Bailey took out the statue from the satchel on his shoulder and held it in front of him. “Let her go. Now.”

The man returned the gun to Natalia and pulled the trigger. The woman slumped over in the chair, blood streaming down her face.

Sophia’s scream pierced the air. Bryce flinched and looked away from Natalia’s lifeless body.

Game over. With that one shot, the situation flipped. Outside the cabin, the FBI was now prepping for a raid instead of a surveillance op.

The masked man pointed the gun at Bailey. “Now, you have something I want and I will be taking it.”

The man’s lean but muscular frame seemed familiar. However, it was the gun with the silencer that filled in the blanks for him.

The gallery attendant. Vince Palmer. The assassin. The same man he’d encountered in the woods behind the brownstone. But hadn’t he and Natalia looked cozy at the gallery? Had Vince used the housekeeper to get close to the Dominiks?

Bryce stepped forward. “We know who you are, Vince. You can stop pretending and take the mask off.”

To Bryce’s surprise, the man did. “You know nothing. My name is Victor Baranov. And here is where your journey ends, Brian Beckett.”

Ivan flinched but covered it with a cough. Good to know the Russians hadn’t figured out Bryce’s real identity.

Victor stared Bailey down. “Give. Me. The. Statue.”

“No way. The deal is off,” Bailey said, shoving the statue back in his bag.