The boat docked at the marina around 9:00, where a shuttle was waiting to take its passengers back to the Serenidad. A few minutes later, the guests—in various states of inebriation—all piled out of the shuttle and into the hotel lobby. Moran put on a show of leaning heavily against Jay as they made their way through the crowd; he was drunk too, but not as drunk as he was pretending to be.
The American had his arms around the shoulders of his two companions. “No, you’re right, it’s too early,” he was saying, his voice echoing in the cavernous lobby. “Let’s head up to the bar!”
A number of the other guests had the same idea, beginning a slow procession in the direction of the restaurant. Among them was the woman Jay had spotted on the boat.
Jay leaned in close to Moran’s ear and murmured, “She’s staying in room 262.”
Moran replied with a subtle nod. “If you stick with her, I can try to get into her room.”
“Here.” Jay reached into his laptop bag and rummaged around for the RFID emulator he’d brought. It was a small black box about the size of his palm, built to read a signal off a radio tag—like those on the hotel wristbands—and rebroadcast it on demand. “You can use this to clone her key.”
Moran took the emulator from him and turned it over in his hand. “You brought this on holiday with you?”
Jay shrugged; the only good thing about taking a controlled substance on a plane was that nobody looked too closely at the other things in the bag. “Come on,” he said, turning to follow the crowd into the restaurant.
“Wait.” Moran caught him by the arm. “Shout at me, first.”
Jay stared at him. “Why?”
“We’ve been all over each other the whole evening. If we split up now, it’ll look suspicious.”
It was a good point. And they needed a distraction that would get Moran within range of Room 262’s wristband.
Jay took a breath and dramatically tore his arm from Moran’s grip. “Get off me!”
Moran settled into character immediately: the baffled boyfriend, too drunk to keep his voice down. “What did I do this time?” A few of the other guests glanced their way. “One minute you’re all over me, the next you’re pushing me away—what do you want from me?!”
It was an act—Jay knew it was an act—but the words shoved him off-balance anyway.
“It’s too much,” he blurted out. “You’re just … hovering, all the time! I don’t need you taking care of me!”
“Then why ask me to come on this trip in the first place?”
If Jay opened his mouth, the honest answer would come tumbling out—so he turned and stalked away through the crowd, deliberately pushing past Room 262 in the process.
A moment later, there was a commotion as Moran “accidentally” crashed into her. Jay turned just in time to see Moran’s hand pass over her wrist.
Moran righted himself, hastily apologising to the woman as he did so. Down at his side, his hand turned outward to reveal the emulator concealed in his palm. A small LED along its side was lit up.
Jay met Moran’s eyes and nodded. “Just leave me alone!” he snapped, and turned away to storm off into the restaurant.
Sebastian made his way casually down the hall, as if he were on his way back to his own room. There was a “Do Not Disturb” tag on the door to room 262. He tapped the emulator against the lock; a beep and a green light announced that the little black box had done its job, and Sebastian slipped into the room.
He seriously doubted that housekeeping had been here since the current inhabitant checked in, and yet the room was fastidiously neat and clean. The bed was even made, sheets tucked tightly around the edges of the mattress. Sebastian opened one of the dresser drawers to find that Room 262 had not only unpacked, but also neatly folded and sorted her clothes.
The drawer hit the end of its runners with a little jolt, and there was a muffled whump from below the t-shirts and rolled socks. Something was hidden underneath—something heavy.
Pushing the drawer’s contents aside, Sebastian found a hard plastic case roughly ten inches across. There was a row of numbered keys along one edge.
Sebastian considered this development for a moment, then pulled out his phone.
Jay answered his call with a brisk, “Yeah?”
“Room 262 has a gun,” Sebastian reported.
“Where the fuck did she get that?”
There was a tinny echo to Jay’s voice that Sebastian recognised. “Are you wearing your earpiece?”
“You’re not?”
“I didn’t bring it. Are you still in the lounge?”
“Yeah. So is she.”
“Alone?”
“So far.”
Sebastian considered the possibility that the closet might be wired to explode and carefully eased it open. A row of ironed shirts hung inside; next to them, on a shelf, the room safe was closed and locked.
“Can you look something up?” he asked. “Holder Security safe, whichever model they’re selling to hotels. Any security vulnerabilities you can find.”
“Holder?” Jay replied immediately. “They had all their reset codes leaked a few weeks ago. Hang on.”
It took Jay a few seconds to pull up the list. As he rattled off the codes, Sebastian punched them in one-by-one. Fourth on the list proved to be the trick; the safe beeped and popped open.
Inside lay a thick file in a manila folder, a leather wallet, and a small notebook. Sebastian reached for the wallet and flipped it open, only to find it wasn’t a wallet after all—it was a badge.
“Room 262 is with the IRS.” Sebastian squinted at the ID card next to the metal badge. “Special Agent Elyse Callahan.”
“‘Special Agent’? Like an investigator?”
“I suppose it explains the gun.” Sebastian eyed the file and notebook. “Lot of hard copy, here. Looks like all her notes are hand-written.”
“Paper files can’t be hacked,” Jay pointed out. “Maybe she’s worried about that.”
Sebastian moved the folder to a lower shelf and flipped it open, skimming the pages. It was a case file; Sebastian didn’t have the time or the sobriety to decipher the whole thing, but one name showed up over and over again.
“BarbaryCoast,” Sebastian read aloud. “Isn’t that some dark web marketplace?”
“It was, until it got shut down. Used to be you could buy just about anything on there. People mostly used it to move drugs, though.”
Closing the file, Sebastian reached instead for the notebook. Inside was a ledger; in small, neat handwriting, Callahan had diligently noted a long string of transactions from one numbered account—labelled as BarbaryCoast’s—to myriad others. All were recorded in the same currency: BTC.
“Looks like Callahan’s trying to find out where some of BarbaryCoast’s money was going. It’s all in Bitcoin—some kind of laundering operation?”
“Crypto isn’t just for money laundering, you know.”
“What do you use it for?”
“Money laundering.”
Callahan’s ledger was extensive: page after page of notes, row after row of transactions. “She followed this every step of the way, for years. Isn’t cryptocurrency supposed to be untraceable?”
“Not exactly. Every transaction on a blockchain is exposed—it’s more or less a public ledger. It’s just that all those transactions are between anonymous wallet numbers.”
“Maybe not so anonymous.” Sebastian had reached the end of the trail. “Looks like Callahan tracked some of the money to an account with a real name on it. ‘Michael Yun.’”
“Hang on, I’ve seen that name before—oh, fuck.”
From his table near the entrance to the restaurant, Jay had a clear view of Callahan where she sat at the bar. She’d been on the phone for the past few minutes, but Jay’s efforts to eavesdrop on the call were strangled in the crib by the presence of the loud American at the far end of the same bar. He’d bought several rounds for his two new lady friends, as well as anyone else he laid eyes on and liked the look of.
“Looks like Callahan tracked some of the money to an account with a real name on it,” Moran said in his ear. “‘Michael Yun.’”
“Hang on, I’ve seen that name before—” It had been on the reservation list for the boat tour; Michael Yun was here, at the Serenidad. But before Jay could relay that information, Tate walked into the restaurant. “Oh, fuck.”
“Jay?”
Tate was headed for the bar. For Callahan. “Tate is making his move.”
“I’m on my way.”
He wouldn’t get here in time. Tate was closing in on Callahan’s position—
—and then passed it by entirely, taking no notice of her. He instead moved toward the end of the bar, sidling up directly behind the American. His hand passed briefly over one of the unattended drinks on the bar top.
Jay shot to his feet. “Callahan’s not the target.”
Tate drifted away, and the American turned to pick up his drink.
He lifted it to his lips just in time for Jay to “trip” and crash into him from behind, spilling its contents all over the floor.
The impact sent a wave of pain through Jay’s chest. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.
“Oh shit, dude!” The American turned to face Jay. “Are you okay?”
“God, I’m so sorry,” Jay gasped out, affecting a mortified air as he knelt to retrieve the empty glass.
“No, no, it’s cool.” The American took the glass from Jay and placed it carelessly on the bar top. “It was an accident.”
Jay steadied himself against the bar and struggled to catch his breath. “Let me buy you a new one, at least.”
“It’s fine, man. I’m good for it.”
“Don’t say anything,” Moran murmured in his ear. “Just hum if the answer’s ‘yes.’ Is Tate still there?”
A quick scan of the dining room found Tate sitting at a table near the back, watching the bar. Waiting for another chance to spike the American’s drink, no doubt.
Jay hummed quietly, hoping it was loud enough for the earpiece to pick up.
“Okay. Stay with the target.”
The American was still looking at Jay, visibly concerned. Across his t-shirt was emblazoned the words Star Nations.
It was the title of a game—the game that had eaten three months of Jay’s life and almost made him fail an entire semester’s worth of exams.
“I like your shirt,” Jay blurted out, for lack of anything better to say.
The American’s face lit up. “You play?”
Jay nodded. “Not as much as I used to, but …”
“Oh, dude, you have to try the new expansion. It’s fucking nuts.” He waved to the bartender for another round of drinks. “I’m Mike, by the way.”
“Jay.”
“You’re English, right?”
Jay nodded.
“Cool.” Mike grinned. “I was just in London, actually. Went to some crazy fucking parties.”
Mike’s two companions, sitting at the bar behind him, were rapidly figuring out they’d lost the man’s interest. One of them nudged the other, and they discreetly stepped away.
Small talk had never been Jay’s strong suit. “You travel a lot, then?”
“Oh, yeah.” Mike shrugged. “I’ve got the money, so … why not?” He glanced at Jay’s hands, gripping the edge of the bar hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “Hey, uh, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look good.”
“Yeah,” Jay ground out. “It’s … I just had surgery. Hurts a bit. I’ve got some painkillers, I’ll be fine.”
Mike’s eyes narrowed. “What, like oxys?”
Jay nodded.
“You don’t want to be fucking around with opiates, man.” Mike glanced around and leaned in. “I’ve got some THC gummies, if you want them.”
Jay wasn’t sure about the protocol here. What did one say to an overwhelmingly affable man who offered you free drugs within two minutes of meeting him for the first time?
Mike noticed the laptop bag on Jay’s hip. “Hey, do you have a decent machine in there? We could go back to my room, get high, play some Star Nations until you’re feeling better. What do you think?”
“Say yes,” Moran told him. “Don’t let him go anywhere alone.”
“Yeah,” Jay said, with a stiff smile. “Sounds fun.”
It was gone 0300 by the time Jay made it back to the room. This time, Sebastian was the one waiting up.
He’d spent the past several hours on the balcony, steadily working his way through an entire packet of cigarettes. His phone sat on the patio table; he’d never hung up after Jay made contact with Michael Yun, staying on the line as they moved from the bar to Yun’s suite, listening for any hint Tate had followed them.
From within the room came the sound of the door opening and closing, echoed through the speaker of Sebastian’s phone.
“I’m out here.” Sebastian finally tapped his screen to end the call. Jay poked his head out onto the balcony, and relief swept through Sebastian’s body. “Have fun?” he asked, offering a weary smile.
Jay set a small plastic canister on the patio table, which had a marijuana leaf printed on an otherwise clinical-looking label. It looked to be something Yun had bought at a dispensary; technically it was illegal to transport that sort of thing internationally, but one of the many benefits of flying private was that customs tended to be a joke.
With a groan, Jay dropped into one of the lounge chairs. “I have been playing Star Nations for the past six hours.”
Sebastian couldn’t tell if that was a “yes” or a “no.” He brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled slowly; between the alcohol and the nicotine, he’d be even more hungover tomorrow than he had been this morning.
“So,” Sebastian exhaled the word with a lungful of smoke. “Michael Yun has an IRS investigator following him around and a British cocaine dealer trying to kidnap him.” He ashed the cigarette over the edge of the balcony. “I take it this has something to do with BarbaryCoast.”
“I have a theory.” Jay eyed the nearly-empty packet of cigarettes on the patio table next to Sebastian, then heaved up out of the chair and strode back into the room.
Sebastian settled into the vacated chair, perching on the edge with his feet on the floor. “What’s the theory?” he called, loud enough for Jay to hear him inside the room.
“Before BarbaryCoast was shut down,” Jay called back, “someone managed to steal about fifty thousand Bitcoin from them. Someone who was never caught.”
“And you think that was Yun.”
Jay emerged from the room with a glass of water in his hand. “Callahan does, too. Tate, I’m not so sure. I think he must’ve run into Yun in London. Maybe heard him talking about his crypto stash at a party or something.” He plucked the cigarette from Sebastian’s fingers and shoved the glass at him. “Drink this. All of it.”
Sebastian obediently took the glass. “You said Tate works for Tasha Lamb. Does that mean she’s behind all this?”
“I don’t think so.” Jay stubbed the cigarette out on the rail and tossed it off the balcony. “This feels like an opportunity play. A big injection of supposedly-untraceable money would let Tate go into business for himself.”
“So how much is fifty thousand Bitcoin actually worth?”
“Not sure.” Jay fumbled his phone from his pocket and started tapping at the screen. “Depends on when and how he cashed out. Cryptocurrencies can’t really be used for anything except ordering drugs in the post. A token is only worth whatever you can convince someone else to buy it off you for.”
Sebastian sipped from the glass. “Yun seems to be doing all right.”
“He’s probably been selling off his coins in small amounts for years. Two billion.”
Sebastian inhaled a mouthful of water and choked. Coughing and struggling to breathe, he managed to rasp out, “Excuse me?”
“Fifty thousand Bitcoin comes out to two billion pounds. Roughly.” Jay stared down at Sebastian and raised an eyebrow. “Are you dying?”
Sebastian finally managed to draw a breath. “Two billion pounds?”
“Two billion theoretical pounds. If he’s smart he’s keeping it split across multiple accounts, but most of it would be in a cold wallet he keeps with him.”
Airway now more or less clear, Sebastian eased back into the lounge chair. “All right. What’s a cold wallet?”
“A device with limited networking and nothing on it but a wallet file. Probably encrypted.”
“Which would explain why Tate needs Yun alive.”
Jay nodded. “At least long enough for him to unlock the wallet.”
“So where is he keeping it? In his room?”
“I wouldn’t trust the safe in here that much. Yun wouldn’t, either.” Jay pulled something up on his phone—the hotel’s internal records, from the look of it. “He’s got something stored in the hotel vault.”
Sebastian gulped down more of the water, making sure to swallow before he asked, “So what’s the plan?”
“We can’t keep babysitting Yun—we’d have to keep him away from both Tate and Callahan.” Jay considered for a moment. “If we got our hands on the wallet, though …”
Sebastian stared at him. “You’re suggesting we steal two billion pounds?”
“Well, Yun stole it first.”
Morning found Sebastian making his way down to the beach club, where a gaggle of hotel staff were preparing for the evening’s Christmas party. A cursory attempt had been made to keep the event vaguely secular, and so the decorations largely featured poinsettias, pine garlands, and snowflakes—faintly ridiculous in the tropical heat of the day.
To Sebastian’s horror, the planned festivities appeared to include a karaoke machine.
Volkan was seated at a table, overseeing the whole endeavour with a Piña Colada in hand. His face split into a smug grin as Sebastian approached. “How was your evening, Captain?”
“Quite nice,” Sebastian replied—then, remembering the distraction they’d had to play out in the lobby, he added, “Mostly.”
“I hope you two sorted it out.” Volkan’s expression was distressingly earnest. “You should never go to bed angry.”
“Because your partner might stab you in your sleep?”
“Exactly.”
Sebastian settled heavily into the chair across from Volkan. Jay had pushed another glass of water on him last night after he finished the first one, but it was still a rough morning.
“Listen.” He put his professional face on—the one Volkan knew, the dutiful soldier. “One of my clients got in touch. They’re in a bit of a crisis right now, and I need to store something securely here in Marbella. I was hoping you’d have some recommendations.”
“Of course.” Volkan waved vaguely toward the deck of the beach club where the hotel manager was up on a ladder, hanging garlands. “Just talk to Niki, and she can have whatever it is stored in our vault.”
“It’s sensitive material, Volkan.” Sebastian propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Very sensitive. I don’t think I can entrust it to some back-room safe.”
Volkan laid a hand over his heart in a dramatic flourish. “You wound me, Captain.” With the other hand, he waved to the bartender. “A drink for my friend.”
Sebastian shook his head. “Not now, Volkan.”
“Ah, of course—you never did like to indulge on the job.” Volkan gave him a pitying look. “And you never would have had any loud public fights with your boyfriend.”
Sebastian began to suspect he wouldn’t hear the end of this anytime soon.
“So we will drink,” Volkan went on, “and then I will show you how rude you have been about my vault.”
The staff-only door off the lobby had an electronic lock. Volkan badged his way through with a card attached to a reel on his belt and gestured for Sebastian to precede him down the hall.
“All our cameras are monitored live,” Volkan announced, gesturing to the ceiling. There were two cameras that Sebastian could see: one directly above the door from the lobby, and another positioned at the end of the hall. They were recessed into the ceiling, beneath protective domes, and looked as though they could rotate a full 360 degrees if necessary.
Exactly what Sebastian would have recommended, if Volkan were his client.
The hall was lined with doors, leading off into the hotel’s various staff rooms. Volkan shepherded Sebastian down to an unmarked door at the very end of the hall. It opened into a small anteroom; ahead was a massive, reinforced door.
It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a vault. “Safe room” would’ve been the more accurate term, but “vault” looked so much more reassuring on paper. Mounted on the impressive, heavy-duty door was an electronic reader with a glassy black screen.
“Fingerprint lock.” Volkan pressed his thumb to the reader; it trilled at him, and the heavy bolts holding the door in place retracted with a thunk. “Only I and my security staff have access.”
He spun the handle of the door and hauled it open. The interior of the ostensible-vault was reasonably large—maybe ten feet long and nearly as wide—and lined with row upon row of safe deposit boxes.
“Motion sensors.” Volkan pointed up toward the ceiling, where a small device was mounted in a corner over the door. “Any movement inside the vault sends an immediate alert to the security team. If the alert isn’t manually cleared within ten seconds, the alarm goes off.” A sweep of his arm encompassed the safe deposit boxes on the walls. “Each of these requires both the guest’s key and the hotel’s master key before it can be opened.”
Having fully extolled the virtues of the vault, Volkan regarded Sebastian with an expectant look.
“All right,” Sebastian said. “I’m satisfied.”
“Good.” Volkan pulled the master key off his belt reel and unlocked one of the empty deposit boxes. He slid it from its cubby and held it out to Sebastian.
Sebastian reached into his pocket and withdrew the spare burner phone they’d used as a decoy on the boat. He placed it in the box; Volkan slid it back into place, locked it with the master key, then removed the second key from the other lock and handed it to Sebastian.
They stepped out of the vault, and Volkan heaved the door back into place. As they walked back down the hall, he asked, “Are you coming to the party tonight?”
Sebastian offered an apologetic smile. “Jay and I were thinking of staying in, actually.”
“Ha! Glad to hear it.” They passed through the staff-only door, back into the lobby. “Enjoy yourselves, then.”
As Volkan turned to leave, Sebastian slipped the emulator from his pocket and scanned the key-card hanging from Volkan’s belt.
Moran had made thorough use of the standard-issue hotel notepad; the table in the little dining nook was covered with sketches and notes mapping out the staff-only area and each layer of the vault’s security system.
Jay sat cross-legged on the sofa, his laptop balanced on his knees as he attempted to force a connection from the phone they’d placed in the vault to Michael Yun’s cold wallet.
There were dishes and glasses scattered about the room. They’d ordered room service again, neither of them willing to interrupt their respective processes to go eat at the restaurant. Jay had needed to correct their room number in the hotel records again—he’d made a shortcut for it.
Management sent up a bottle of wine with the food, on the house; Jay suspected Volkan’s involvement. The bottle was nearly empty, now—as was the wineglass dangling from Moran’s fingers.
“Did you pack any copper wire?” Moran called across the room.
“Why would I have brought copper wire?” Jay called back.
Moran gave Jay a look over his shoulder. “You brought electrical tape. And an RFID emulator.”
Jay conceded the point. “I could strip some spare cables. What do you need it for?”
“I think I need to build an electromagnet.”
“Oh.” Jay went over his mental inventory of all the stuff he’d packed. “I have a magnet.”
“That works, too.” Moran turned to face him, leaning back against the table. “Any luck getting into the wallet?”
“No.” Jay rubbed his eyes; they’d started to go blurry. “Either Yun stripped every network chip off the thing, or it never had any in the first place. We’ll need a hard connection to get in.”
“So we’re breaking into the vault.” Moran’s eyes had a delighted gleam.
“You’re too excited about this,” Jay said.
Moran beckoned him over. Jay set his laptop aside with a sigh and eased up off the sofa.
“We’ve already got the key code to the staff door.” Moran settled in at Jay’s back as he approached the table and tapped the door in question on his sketch of the security layout. “Your magnet should get us past the vault lock, and the deposit boxes won’t take too long to pick—but that leaves the cameras and motion sensors.” Moran’s hand settled on Jay’s waist, thumb teasing bare skin beneath his shirt. “Think you can disable them on the network side?”
“Not from here,” Jay chided him—light and playful, even as he reluctantly disentangled himself from Moran and made his way back to the sofa. He’d accessed the cameras before, but that was as a passive observer; if he tried to interfere with them, or switch them off, the security team would notice almost immediately.
Unless they were expecting it.
A quick poke around the staff email system confirmed his suspicion. “The security system goes down an hour every week for maintenance and software updates.”
“When’s the next update?”
“10:00, tonight.” It was too soon, barely an hour away. “I can spoof an e-mail from IT to say there’s another one this week—some kind of emergency patch. Tomorrow’s Christmas day, so if we do it then, most of the staff should be off for the holiday.”
Grinning, Moran flopped down onto the sofa next to him. “Perfect.”
The Serenidad’s IT team was an off-site contractor that hadn’t bothered to buy up every possible version of their company’s domain name. All Jay needed to do was snap up one of the unused domain extensions, set up an e-mail relay, and send off a message informing the security staff that a supplementary update would be taking place Christmas day.
As he worked, the rest of the room faded into the background. He only barely registered that Moran had nuzzled into his jaw, stubble scratching against his skin.
The IT contractor used a particular e-mail template in all its correspondence, which Jay would need to duplicate. Moran’s mouth opened, kissing its way down the length of Jay’s neck. Jay hummed in idle contentment and kept typing.
“Jay,” Moran rumbled against his throat. “Pay attention to me.”
Oh. The e-mail could wait. Jay shut the laptop a little harder than he should have and shoved it away.
Twisting around on the couch, Jay caught Sebastian’s lips in a clumsy kiss. He could taste the wine on Sebastian’s tongue.
Sebastian pressed closer, rubbing against him like a cat, his weight pushing Jay down onto the sofa. Jay fumbled for the hem of Sebastian’s shirt and tugged; he only managed to get it halfway off before the motion of his arms pulled something in his chest and he had to stop. Sebastian’s mouth was still on his, fingers swiftly unbuttoning the front of his shirt.
Jay went to grab at Sebastian’s shoulders, but his arms couldn’t reach that high; he tried to push up into a position where he had more leverage, but putting weight on his hands wasn’t an option and, without them, he couldn’t get any purchase on the sofa.
A tight, frustrated noise escaped his throat.
Sebastian pulled back at the sound. He studied Jay’s face, then the helpless sprawl of his body.
Jay’s heart hammered in his chest. Anything he might have said died at the back of his throat.
“Okay,” Sebastian said, soft and easy. “Tell me what to do.”
Jay flushed hot from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. It wasn’t charity; Sebastian wasn’t taking pity on him. There was a keen hunger in his eyes—the same hunger Jay saw any time he pinned Sebastian down. He wanted this.
It didn’t matter if Sebastian had the upper hand. Any power he possessed belonged to Jay anyway.
Settling back into the sofa cushions, Jay said, “Take your shirt off.”
Sebastian sat up, one foot braced on the floor, as he tugged his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. He was sweating a little, a light sheen of it across his collarbone and shoulders; the hair on his chest was damp against his skin.
Jay itched to touch him. “Kiss me.”
Sebastian dropped down onto his elbows, blanketing Jay’s body with his own as their mouths came back together. Jay’s hands lifted as far as they could to stroke up the length of Sebastian’s back; Sebastian sighed against his lips and mouthed down the side of his throat, teasing around the collar of the medical binder.
“Lower,” Jay breathed.
Sebastian hummed his approval of that idea and shifted position on the sofa until he was kissing around Jay’s navel. He looked up, lips still pressed to Jay’s skin, eyes pleading.
“Yeah,” Jay groaned, tugging at his own belt. “Get these off.”
Sebastian was quick to replace Jay’s hands with his own, fumbling a bit with the fly before he managed to get it open and drag his jeans down. Jay kicked them off onto the floor—and with a wordless, grateful sound, Sebastian shoved his face between Jay’s thighs.
Jay gasped and grabbed for Sebastian, clutching at his hair; Sebastian’s pleased groan thrummed through Jay’s core, which he took as encouragement to tighten his grip. Sebastian’s eyes were still fixed on Jay’s face, half-lidded with pleasure as his hands held Jay’s hips steady, letting himself be moved exactly where Jay wanted him.
It was messy and frantic and almost too much; Jay arched up off the sofa as he came, sending a shock of pain through the barely-healed muscles of his chest.
He collapsed against the cushions, gasping for breath, and Sebastian lifted his head. He was smiling—that same smile from the boat, raw and honest. Jay finally knew what it meant.
“Come here,” he murmured.
Sebastian crawled back up the length of Jay’s body until his arms were braced at either side of Jay’s shoulders. Jay nuzzled against his cheek and tugged at his zip until he could work a hand inside and wrap it around his prick.
It took very little to bring him off; Sebastian’s forehead dropped to Jay’s shoulder, breath puffing harshly against his skin as he shook apart in Jay’s hands.
He slumped against the sofa, careful even now to put his weight on the cushions instead of Jay’s chest. Long moments passed, silent except for the rough sound of their breathing.
Then a pained groan escaped Jay’s throat. “I think I need one of those gummies.”
Sebastian heaved up off the couch and fetched the canister from the bedside table. Jay unscrewed the top, shook out a gummy, and barely chewed it before swallowing.
In the pocket of Jay’s jeans, still lying on the floor, his phone pinged. With a grumble, he gestured for Sebastian to retrieve it for him.
The notification was to inform him that Tate was making a phone call. Jay tapped the button to listen in.
“I have a .45 semi-auto and a .38 revolver.” It was an unfamiliar voice—French, from the sounds of it. “Anything else you want, I need time to find for you.”
Tate’s voice broke in: “I’ll take the .45.”
“Good. You know where to meet me.”
The call ended.
Sebastian had a grave look. “Tate’s buying a gun.”
Which meant his plan had changed. And he was moving tonight.
Sebastian shot to his feet, re-buttoning his jeans and snatching his shirt up from the floor. The security update was in ten minutes—that was their window to get into the vault before Tate got back to the hotel. “Where’s that magnet?”
“Suitcase,” Jay replied.
Sebastian hurried across the room to dig it out. It was a rare earth magnet, activated by a switch built into the casing; Jay had kept it switched off during transit to prevent it from scrambling his electronics. Hopefully, that meant it was powerful enough for whatever Sebastian was planning to do with it.
As Sebastian retrieved his lock-picks from his own suitcase, Jay fumbled in his laptop bag for his earpiece. He tossed it to Sebastian, who just barely caught it in mid-air as he rushed from the room.
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