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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.
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Panopticon
Jay was sitting upright, the top half of the bed folded up to support him. He was wearing a medical binder; from what he’d told Sebastian, it was meant to keep the swelling down and encourage his chest muscles to heal properly. There were two plastic bulbs—surgical drains—clipped to the bottom of the binder, attached to long tubes that emerged from a pair of small incisions under his arms. At the sight of Sebastian, Jay’s face split into an uncharacteristically wide smile. “Hi.”