“I was pondering that on the way back to the room when I felt my phone go off again. I looked at it and felt a chill.

Enjoy the burgers, Gregorio. You never know what your last meal might be.

I was two blocks from the room and I booked it, bursting into the room to an offended gasp from Saint, who was sitting on the bed.

“Has anybody called? Anybody knocked?” I asked, dumping the food on the desk.

Saint shook his head. “No, nobody. Why? What happened?”

I showed him the message and he paled. “They found us? How’d they get your phone number?”

“How’d they get your fucking credit card number? It’s Greene! They’re watching us, Saint,” I said urgently. “We need to go, please. Now.” My tone was halfway between demanding and pleading, already throwing my things into my duffle.”