Author: Kit Walker
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The Hurrah
“What you are,” Stepan snarled at her, “is a coddled, spoiled brat who has never faced a real challenge in her life. Everything you have—everything—was handed to you because of me. And when you’re found at the bottom of this pretty, expensive staircase with a broken neck, none of your famous friends, none of your stupid things, will have mattered one bit.”
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Turnabout
Kira cut in again; the words “insurance investigator” caught Sebastian’s attention, followed by: “Bad enough we had to clean up a body—”
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How Jay Got to the Safe House
He’d paid particular attention to the door when he designed this place. It was near-impenetrable, difficult to cut through and difficult to pick open. But not impossible, because Moran didn’t have a key. And if this wasn’t Moran, there wouldn’t be much Jay could do about it.
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The Greuze Job
The roof was their only way in, as the gallery had just wrapped up a three-year renovation which included a full upgrade of its security measures. There were perimeter sensors on all the doors and windows, and rolling steel shutters over every potential point of access—except one.
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The Call
“I need you.” The words were rushed and stumbling. “Help me.”
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The Scientific Method
Jay didn’t like Sebastian touching his chest. They’d established that early on, and Sebastian hadn’t questioned it since. But here they were nearly two months post-surgery, and already something was different—the way Jay carried himself, the way he moved. There was an ease to it that wasn’t there before. Hence, the experiment.
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Four Days Later
The Reina was a two-star hotel near the heart of Marbella’s Old Town. Its rooms were small, its amenities limited, and the air conditioning barely worked. Jay considered it a vast improvement over the Serenidad—especially since the television in their room was an old-fashioned CRT model and dumb as a brick.
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Plan M
Up until now, Sebastian had been confident he could pull off a vault heist on a moment’s notice; it occurred to him now, for the first time, that he was slightly too drunk to be attempting this.
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The Target
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?!”
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Zone Surveillance
Sebastian went back to sifting through his emails. The bathroom door closed, the muffled noise of the shower drifting through. He was halfway through a careful reply to Milverton Analytics’ inquiry about a consult when a loud thump resounded from inside the bathroom.