He yanks me up, and, shoulders hunched, we scramble down the hall into what can only be the master suite, based on the size of the chandelier dangling from the ceiling and the glass walls that open to balconies overlooking the forest.

“Bingo,” he says.

“Where’s the closet?” I ask, my lungs heaving in disbelief we’ve made it this far.

“This way.” Garrett nods over his shoulder.

We tiptoe to a hologram wall next to the fireplace. Certain we’re about to trigger an unmapped weapon, I hold my breath as we step through the wall. Thankfully no alarms sound. We arrive safely in a spacious bathroom with stone floors and a soaking tub that overlooks the pool. Crossing the space, we find the closet, and I exhale.

“What do we do now?” I ask. “We can’t just open the closet door, can we?”

“What does the map say?”

My hands shake as I take the paper square out of my pocket and unfold it. “It doesn’t say anything.”

“It seems too easy,” Garrett says. “But it would be ridiculous to put in a code every time you opened your closet, right?”

“We don’t have time to debate ridiculous,” I say, glancing at my watch. “We’ve been inside ten minutes. Time is not our friend. Open the door.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. It’s my heist; I call the shots.”

“Fine.” Rubbing my throbbing temples, I step aside so he has full access to the door.

“You open the door,” he says.

“No!” My stomach clenches. “Like you said—it’s your heist. Man up. If we go down right now, you take the blame, anyway. Open the door.”

“Fine, but it’s going in the report that you disobeyed orders.”

I narrow my eyes. “There’s a report?”

“Of course there’s a report. This is a test.”

“Whatever. Getting an A-minus isn’t exactly my biggest worry right now. Would you open the door?”

“A-minus? You think I’m giving you an A?” He laughs but quickly grows serious. “Ready? One, two…” Our eyes connect, and I could get lost in his depths. “Three.” He yanks open the door, and I brace myself.

Silence.

His shoulders visibly relax, and I practically collapse in a heap as the tension releases.

“After you.” He gestures me inside.

The closet is nearly empty, containing only three crisp dress shirts and two pairs of pants hanging in a neat row. A stack of shelves holds four perfectly folded charcoal zip-front sweaters, a pair of loafers, and a set of running shoes.

“He must use a clothing rental service,” Garrett says, his fingers tapping lightly along the back wall. “Which makes the car thing even stranger…”

“What about the car thing?”

BANG.