Jack awoke groggily, opening his eyes in the dim lighting of his holding cell. He was on a hard-backed bed with almost no padding. His head hurt, and he felt as though he’d been decked in the temple.
“Which Casino do you want to hit next?” Beck asked as they found their way back to the main thoroughfare. Jack shrugged, pleasantly tipsy and enjoying the atmosphere. The lights, the music, the action. He felt like dancing, like months of excess stress were being scraped away.
Victor waited outside the office building of Markwell, leaning against a car and tapping his fingers against the hood. It was the middle of the day, but on a weekend so there were very few cars in the parking lot. His was in a back corner, tucked out of sight.