Blood pumping in my veins, I spread the map on the floor. Illuminating the circle next to the “biometric chair” icon with details about the safe, I read aloud. “In the event of an emergency, the driver’s seat of Simon’s vintage Corvette is also wired to open the safe remotely if he sits in it. The Corvette is part of his car collection, which he stores at his Menlo Park home…” My throat constricts.

Garrett and I stare at each other.

“Vick and Chloe have to get him to sit in the Corvette…” he says.

“Which means he’s here.” I finish his sentence.

Everything goes silent. It’s like we’re suspended in midair with realization whirling around us.

“Of course Chloe’s heist required her to get a piece of ass,” I mutter, snapping the tension. “I don’t even want to know what she had to do to get him here.”

Garrett laughs, and all is right with the world. Except for the fact Simon is probably about to kill us. Or, at the very least, send us to jail for the rest of our lives. My insides crumble. I can’t let that happen. I want this to be my life more than anything.

“We can still do this,” he says, crawling behind the bar. Crouching, he examines its contents with his penlight. “We’re sticking to the plan. This is how it’s supposed to happen.”

“Are you nuts?” I ask, tears stinging my eyes. “We should run.”

“Do you really think so? Is that what your instincts are telling you?” He shines his light on me.

My eyes widen at the word “instinct,” but I quickly brush it aside as coincidence. Breathing deep, I check in. My heart is throbbing, my head is spinning, and my shoulders are pinched, but nothing is triggering me to leave.

“This sucks,” I say, joining him behind the bar. “But we should stay.” Kneeling next to him, I peer at the rows of glasses and bottles. “The safe must be back here.”

“The mini-fridge?” he suggests.

“That’s my guess.” Spotlighting the room with my flashlight in search of other possibilities, I realize there aren’t any windows. I gasp. “How are we going to see Rayelle and Kyran’s flashes?” My mouth goes dry. “How will we know when Simon sits? What if he already has?” A shiver runs down my spine. “What if he’s coming now?”

Garrett is silent. The light from his pen raises to my face. “Do you know? Is that what your instincts say?”

The blood drains from my head, and it’s as if the room turns on its side. Again with the instincts. He can’t be asking what I think he’s asking.