“Too short. Stubby isn’t going to work. Knuckles too big. Those nails have to go, and so does the polish. It might chip, and it will be a clue for the authorities to follow. Too much jewelry. It has to go, too. Wrist’s too thick. I’m looking for long, tapered fingers. Piano fingers. The pads of your fingers are too thick. Yours are too fleshy.”

“Aren’t we supposed to sandpaper our fingertips?” Nikki all but snarled.

“That’s only in the movies. This is no movie,” Tyson responded. “I was told that there is a security guard who makes his rounds of the building every twenty to thirty-five minutes. On the second go-round, the guard opens the office and checks the interior. Your window of time is small, so we have to make sure the person cracking the safe knows what she’s doing and can do it with her eyes closed.”

“I don’t remember hearing anything about a security guard,” Yoko grumbled.

Tyson looked over at the small, Asian American woman as though taking her measure. He didn’t bother to respond. “Ahhh, perfect. Finger pad is just right. Good flexibility. No sign of arthritis. Nails trimmed just right. You’ll do!” he said dramatically.

Annie was so befuddled, she didn’t know what to do. When Tyson winked at her, she almost blacked out.

Isabelle leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I think you have a problem here, Annie. You went from no man to two men all of a sudden. I saw that wink. It was roguish. The others saw it, too. He’s interested in you. I bet you could bring him to his knees if you tried.”

Annie swallowed hard. Feast or famine. Tyson was waiting for a comment. If Isabelle was right, and the wink meant something, she did have a problem. Well, she knew how to wink. In the end, she made a kissing motion, then laughed. She smiled and kept smiling, to Tyson’s discomfort. She leaned over and whispered, “You wouldn’t know what to do with me. Trust me.” She loved the man’s startled expression so much, she decided to go a step further. She dropped her voice even more. “I know how to…”

Myra couldn’t believe her ears. She gasped, and she gasped again as she whispered to Kathryn, who then passed Annie’s comments down the line.

His ears red, Tyson made a production out of searching for something in his bag. “You couldn’t possibly…,” he muttered.

“Mr. Tyson, do I look like someone who makes idle boasts? I’m up for a sizable wager. Now, let’s get this show on the road. Time is money. By the way, how much money are we paying you?”

Tyson told her.