The animal reception centre was a squat, brutalist complex along a dead-end road just outside the perimeter of Heathrow airport. Sebastian arrived not long before midnight and parked his car out front—within Wi-Fi range of the main building, at Jay’s request. He leaned against the hood, smoking a cigarette as he studied the exterior of the centre.
His initial plan had been to wait until it closed. Unfortunately, Anika had been quick to inform him that the centre never closed. It was open 24 hours.
“I found an unsecured tank thermometer in the reptile wing,” Jay said in his ear. “I’m using it as a foothold into the network.”
Sebastian exhaled a lungful of smoke. “Cameras?”
“Got them already. Just need to clear out the staff. Schedule says there’s supposed to be two on shift tonight, but one called in sick. The other one’s logged into the reception desk.”
Sebastian dropped the cigarette to the asphalt and stubbed it out with his boot. Direct confrontation this close to an international airport could get ugly, fast.
Then again …
“Can you put me through to their phone, but make it look like I’m calling from the airport?”
“I was spoofing phone numbers in primary school, Moran.”
Sebastian couldn’t resist a quiet chuckle as Jay worked. He took a few seconds to settle into character.
A click and a dial tone announced the re-routing of the call; after two rings, the phone was picked up and a sleepy voice said, “Heathrow Animal Reception Centre.”
Sebastian’s response was an authoritative bark: “Where the hell are you?”
There was a fumbling noise down the line; through the front windows of the reception area, a vague silhouette rocketed to its feet, nearly dropping the phone in the process.
“I’m at the—what?”
“The security briefing started twenty minutes ago,” Sebastian snapped. “May I remind you that attendance is mandatory?”
“I didn’t—you—it’s the middle of the night!”
“Oh, sorry, I forgot—terrorists only operate during business hours.” If twelve years as an army officer had taught Sebastian anything, it was how to berate a subordinate. “Report to the security office, immediately!”
There was a clattering noise, then silence as the phone’s handset fell back into its cradle. A moment later, the animal centre’s lone staff member hurried out the front door, pausing only to lock it behind him. In the rush to his car, he nearly collided with Sebastian—and entirely failed to notice when Sebastian lifted the keys off his belt.
“Sorry,” the man said, “back in a bit!” He clambered into his car, which sped away down the access road.
Pilfered keys in hand, Sebastian strolled up to the entrance of the animal centre and let himself in.
A security door marked the divide between the waiting room and the staff-only areas of the building; beyond it lay a maze of white-painted cinder block hallways, lined with animal pens. There was a dedicated wing for cats, another for dogs, and so on—but what drew Sebastian’s attention was the one marked “Dangerous Animals.”
It didn’t take much effort to find the room that contained a live Bengal tiger.
A heavy-duty, floor-to-ceiling cage occupied an entire wall of the room, with a gate that led to a fully enclosed outdoor pen. The tiger lay on the floor of the cage’s interior section in a lazy sprawl that put Sebastian in mind of a house cat.
A very big house cat. Photos and television had done little to prepare him for how massive a Bengal tiger really was.
“Found the tiger.” Sebastian couldn’t help adding, with no small amount of glee: “Fuck me, it’s huge.”
“Really?” Jay’s voice in his ear was bright and eager.
Sebastian grinned. “However big you think it is, it’s bigger than that.”
The tiger shifted position, rolling its neck until its head rested nearly upside-down on the floor. Its eyes seemed a little too close together.
“It looks … off, though.”
“Probably inbred,” Anika replied. She’d insisted on also getting a headset. “My friend figures it was a circus animal.”
There was an access hatch at one end of the cage: a big, heavy guillotine door. Getting it open seemed easy enough, with one obvious issue.
“How do I get this thing out of here without it mauling me to death?”
“Should be some transport crates around,” Anika said.
A quick search of the other rooms turned up a heavy steel cage on wheels that appeared to be the appropriate size. He lined the open mouth of it up with the hatch on the cage and lifted the door.
The tiger lifted its head slightly, but didn’t move from its spot on the floor.
Sebastian glared down at it, hands on his hips. “The tiger isn’t moving, Anika.”
“That’ll happen. You need to lure it into the crate.”
“With what?”
Jay broke in, mocking: “You could stick your hand through the bars.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You know very well what a tragedy it would be if a tiger bit my fingers off.”
Over Jay’s flustered noises, Anika said, “There’s a staff kitchen back there somewhere. Must be something you can use as bait.”
Sebastian’s keen memory and sense of direction served him poorly in the narrow, sterile, windowless halls of the animal centre. Once he finally found the staff kitchen, he made for the fridge. “What do tigers like?”
“Cats go for things with strong smells,” Anika explained. “Cured meats, cheese, that sort of thing.”
There was a tub of grated parmesan in the fridge, the owner of which had written “DO NOT TOUCH” across the lid with a felt-tip pen. Sebastian grabbed it and made his winding way back to the dangerous animal wing.
The tiger hadn’t moved, and had in fact slumped even further into the floor. Its ears twitched when Sebastian pulled the lid off the tub; he wafted it in front of the cage, and the tiger’s nostrils flared. It lifted its head, eyes fixed on the cheese.
Then it lurched to its feet in one sudden movement and padded toward the bars.
Sebastian tossed the cheese into the transport crate, and the tiger eagerly followed it in, bending to sniff at it where it lay on the floor. Slowly, it lifted its head and locked eyes with Sebastian.
“By the way,” Anika said in his ear, “try not to look it in the eyes.”
Sebastian froze.
“Just for the sake of argument,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level, “what exactly happens if I look in its eyes?”
“Tigers sometimes interpret eye contact as a sign of aggression.”
The tiger held Sebastian’s gaze with the mild curiosity of a creature that had little to fear from anything.
Sebastian licked his lips and resisted the compulsion to blink. “How does one deal with an aggressive tiger, theoretically speaking?”
“They’re sensitive to unfamiliar noises,” Anika mused aloud. “If this is a circus animal, though, it’ll be pretty desensitised. Probably still scared of fire, though.”
“I have a cigarette lighter?” Sebastian said hopefully.
“I was thinking bigger than that.”
The tiger’s mouth opened slightly, lips drawing back from long, yellow fangs.
Then it blinked, lowered its head again, and began to eagerly devour the cheese.
Relief crashed through Sebastian, and he stumbled a little as he circled around to the hatch and lowered it with a loud clank. The tiger flopped onto the floor of the cage, licking its lips. With a low grunt, Sebastian wheeled the cage out of the room and down the hall to the loading bay. “Bring the van up.”
The loading bay’s exterior doors could only be opened from the inside; Sebastian left the crate in the middle of the floor and approached the control panel. The doors slid open, revealing the van Jay had “acquired” for them as it idled on the other side.
Anika hopped out of the driver’s seat and helped Sebastian wheel the tiger cage up the ramp into the back of the van. Then Sebastian closed the doors and made his way back out through the reception area, locking the doors again behind him.
He met the van in the car park and climbed in, and they were gone.
Moran returned to his flat in the early hours of the morning and seemed surprised to see Jay still sat on the couch. He sighed and said, “Do you ever sleep?”
“Been waiting up for you,” Jay replied, eyes fixed on his laptop screen. He’d finished covering his tracks at the animal centre ages ago; now he clicked mindlessly around his many open tabs, the knot between his shoulders winding up tighter and tighter the longer Moran looked at him. “Anika’s got the tiger, then?”
“She’s putting it in the quarantine pen at her office,” Moran said. “In the morning she’ll sedate it and come pick me up, and then we’ll go meet with Chapman.”
Jay replied with a wordless grunt. His pulse throbbed in his jaw, where it had started to ache from clenching it all day.
A shadow passed over him. Moran had planted himself directly in front of Jay, blocking the light.
“All right,” he said. “What’s got you in such a mood?”
Jay glared up at him. “I’m not in a mood.”
Moran leaned down and closed Jay’s laptop, slowly enough that he had time to get his hands out of the way but with a force that brooked no argument. Bent over Jay like he was, Moran’s face was only a few inches away, the warmth of his body nearly blanketing him. Jay shoved the laptop aside and stood, pushing past Moran into the kitchen.
Following close behind, Moran said, “You’re absolutely in a mood.”
“Well,” Jay snarled, fists clenched, “maybe I’m just tired of listening to you flirt with Anika all evening.”
Moran went quiet for a long moment. Then, quiet and confused, he said, “You’re jealous.”
Jay didn’t answer. He could hardly deny it, at this point.
A hand closed around Jay’s elbow. Moran spun him around until they were face to face; his expression was unreadable, complex emotions simmering beneath a rigidly neutral facade.
“We shagged once,” Moran said, “and then you ghosted me. It’s none of your business who I—” He bit back the remainder of the sentence with a frustrated noise. “You don’t own me, Jay.”
The words tumbled out of Jay’s mouth without a moment’s thought: “What if I want to?”
Moran froze. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open; it was as if his brain had completely stopped working.
“Wait. Shit.” Jay squeezed his eyes shut. His face was burning, pressure surging up his throat to choke him. “I didn’t—”
“Fuck,” Moran breathed, and slammed his mouth against Jay’s.
Jay gasped, his mouth opening eagerly under Sebastian’s. He stumbled back under the force of the kiss, colliding with the kitchen island. Sebastian kissed him with fevered intensity, making frantic little noises in his throat. Jay’s arms went around Sebastian’s neck, dragging him in even closer, as Sebastian’s hands clutched frantically at his waist, his hips, pressing against him like he couldn’t get close enough.
The edge of the counter was digging into Jay’s back. Jay dropped one hand and braced it behind him to relieve the pressure, protesting wordlessly into the kiss.
Sebastian made an apologetic noise, easing back, and then his knees hit the floor with an impact that made Jay wince. He pawed at Jay’s zip with uncharacteristic clumsiness; Jay sank his fingers into Sebastian’s hair, urging him on as he tore Jay’s jeans open. Sebastian shoved them down, but only far enough to shove his mouth between Jay’s legs.
Jay arched back against the counter, gasping, as Sebastian sucked him off fast and hard, both hands on Jay’s hips, urging him forward into his mouth. Jay ground up against him, and Sebastian made a helpless, eager noise, working one hand down the front of his own jeans.
It seemed like barely a moment later that he shuddered all over, hand stilling as he groaned against Jay’s skin.
Jay didn’t pause for a moment, riding Sebastian’s mouth until the tension building in his belly finally burst and he moaned, shaking apart in Sebastian’s hold.
He slumped against the island, panting, raking his fingers slowly through Sebastian’s damp hair as his pounding heart gradually slowed to its normal rate. Sebastian’s forehead came to rest against Jay’s bare hip.
“Nothing’s going on between me and Anika,” Sebastian said, punctuating the statement with a reverent, open-mouthed kiss against Jay’s skin. “Not now, not ever.”
The vehemence of it made Jay flush all over, but it also dropped a cold weight into his gut.
“I shouldn’t have said—” Jay swallowed, his throat dry. “You can do whatever you—whoever—”
Sebastian sighed, breath cooling the sweat-soaked skin beneath his lips. “Jay.”
Jay blinked down at him. “What?”
Sebastian looked up and met Jay’s eyes, utterly relaxed. “I’m gay.”
His smile was besotted and a little punch-drunk, which only slightly mitigated Jay’s sudden desire to strangle him.
It was early morning when a large van pulled into Derek Chapman’s front drive.
He waited by the door, buzzing with restless energy despite the hour. Every encounter with Sebastian Moran felt like walking a high wire—all his attention bent on the next step, barely maintaining his balance through dizzying exhilaration. But once those moments passed, they left an odd, hollow sensation in their wake. A feeling that he’d rolled over and showed his belly.
This time would be different. This time, he’d be the one in control—the man with the money.
As the van rolled to a stop, Moran hopped out of the passenger seat and approached Chapman. Behind him, a woman climbed down out of the driver’s seat; she was willowy and exotic, dressed in a white pantsuit and dark sunglasses.
“Chapman.” Moran greeted him with a nod. “May I introduce my associate, Ms. Khan?”
Khan stepped forward and shook his hand. “Hello, Mr. Chapman,” she said, in an extraordinarily thick Indian accent.
Moran fell into a sudden coughing fit.
Khan led the way around to the back of the van and opened the doors. Lying inside a transport cage was the largest, most magnificent animal Chapman had ever seen, its massive furred flanks slowly rising and falling as it … snored?
“It’s asleep,” Chapman felt the need to point out.
“Sedated,” Moran corrected. “Safer, while the animal is changing hands. It’ll be unconscious for most of the day.”
“If you are satisfied,” Khan said, “I believe it is time I received my payment.”
Moran shot Chapman a meaningful look, and Chapman found himself automatically reaching for his phone. Indignant pride flared up briefly, but smouldered and died under Moran’s expectant stare.
A few minutes later, the money was on its way. He showed Khan the confirmation screen, and she nodded, satisfied. Moran lowered the van’s ramp and steered the transport cage down to the pavement.
Khan climbed back into the cabin of the van, while Moran closed the van’s doors and turned to Chapman.
“I’ll be back tonight for the meeting with Clarke,” he said.
Chapman nodded. “Looking forward to it.”
Moran climbed into the van as well, and it backed out through Chapman’s front gate.
Chapman’s gaze was inexorably drawn to the tiger, sleeping soundly in its cage.
That hollow feeling was back. Once more, Chapman felt like he’d embarrassed himself somehow. But now he had a valuable piece of merchandise entirely in his hands, with its intended buyer just down the street.
He grabbed for his phone.
Wright answered his call with a curt, “Boss?”
“Get over here, right now,” Chapman told him. “Bring your van.”
The front door of Moran’s flat opened; a moment later, Sebastian and Anika made their way down the hall to join Jay in the living room.
Moran dropped down next to Jay on the sofa, extending his arm along the back of it. His hand went to Jay’s neck and trailed his fingers over his nape, up into his hairline—because he wanted to, because he was allowed.
Jay hadn’t gone home last night. He’d slept in Moran’s bed, and in the morning Moran had kissed him and made him breakfast. At no point had there been any discussion whatsoever over what this was. If it was anything at all.
“How did it go?” he asked.
In a tone of utter defeat, Moran said, “Anika did a voice.”
“Oh, god.”
“It went fine.” Anika slumped into the armchair, immediately kicking off the high-heeled pumps Moran had insisted she wear. “The tranquilliser worked, too.”
Both of Jay’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to stare at her. “That was a concern?”
“Sedatives can be tricky,” Anika explained with a shrug. “Especially without a full medical history to work from. I had to guess at a few things.”
Moran’s hand settled over the back of Jay’s neck, thumb rubbing up the length of his spine in a soothing gesture. Jay took the hint and turned his attention to the account they’d set up to receive Chapman’s payment.
The account displayed a balance of £3.5 million. Jay quickly transferred the funds into a series of other accounts, ensuring their final destination was more or less untraceable.
“We’ve got the money,” he reported.
“That’s it?” Anika bounced upright in her seat, intrigued. “Just like that, it’s all done?”
“Just like that,” Moran confirmed. “You can call animal control now.”
Anika reached for her phone—but before she had a chance to dial, the phone started ringing in her hand. She frowned down at the screen, then answered the call and put the phone to her ear. “Yeah?”
A long, tense silence descended over the flat as Anika listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone, occasionally broken with a soft “yeah,” or “what?” as her expression grew more alarmed over time. Eventually she said, “Yeah, I’ll keep an ear out—good luck,” and hung up. “That was my friend from customs.”
Jay was, by this point, vibrating with anticipation. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a bit of a panic over there right now,” Anika said, “on account of a dangerous animal being missing.”
“We knew that would happen,” Moran pointed out.
“Yes, well, it turns out ‘dangerous’ in this case means ‘fucking dangerous.’” Anika shot to her feet and went into Moran’s spare room to retrieve her boots, shouting back into the hall: “That tiger has mauled two people. It’s why it was being smuggled over the border—the owner was in a rush to get rid of it.”
Moran sat bolt upright on the sofa. “Jesus Christ.”
“Raised it like a pet.” Anika charged back into the room, now wearing her boots, already dialling another number on her phone. “In a flat, for fuck’s sake. Between that and the inbreeding—”
“Anika.” Moran stood and gently grasped Anika’s wrist to get her attention. “What were you saying about the tranquilliser, earlier?”
“Just that I had to guess at the dosage, and—” She blinked. “Ah.”
Moran turned to Jay. “We need to get back to Chapman’s house. Now.”
As they rushed out, Moran paused just long enough to grab the Bowie knife that still lay on the table by the door.
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