“Talk to?—”
Nico startled, his words becoming a yelp as something vibrated through the mattress. They both froze, staring at each other in confusion.
The phone.
Mal must have had his phone beside him on the bed.
“Ignore it,” Mal finally said, ducking his head to capture Nico’s lips once more.
“We can’t,” Nico hissed. “It’s probably Jericho. What if it’s an emergency?”
Mal sighed grumpily but went to his knees, sweeping his hands under the linens until he found the offender. He pulled hiscell phone from beneath the pillow, frowning at the screen. “It’s one of my students…”
It was almost eleven. “At this time of night?” When Mal just stared, Nico nudged him. “Answer it.”
Mal slid the green bar across his screen then put it on speaker. “Casey?”
“Mr. Mizrahi?” a wobbly voice asked.
The voice sounded like that of a young girl. Mal taught students from six all the way to seventeen, so there was no way to discern how old she actually was by that alone. Before Mal could answer, a loud pounding sound could be heard in the background. The girl gave a muffled scream, like she’d put her hand over her mouth, making a high-pitched keening sound.
“Casey, what is that?” Mal asked, frowning. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” she wailed. “Some guy is banging on my door and I’m freaking out,” she said, voice shaking, her heavy breaths staticky through the speaker.
“Where’s your mom?” Mal asked.
She whimpered, then muffled another scream as the pounding got louder. “She didn’t come home. She hasn’t been home in two days,” she managed. “He wants me to let him in.”
“Donotlet him in,” Nico said firmly.
The girl hesitated at the unfamiliar voice. “Is—Is that your boyfriend?” she asked. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Did you call the police?” Mal asked.
“You know the cops won’t come here after dark,” she said, sobbing. “I’m scared.”
Nico’s heart was in his throat, fear bitter on his tongue. Who was this girl? Where was her mother? How old was she? Who was banging on her door and why? How much time did they have to get to her? They must be in the neighborhood if the cops wouldn’t come.
Mal looked to Nico. When he nodded, Mal said, “What’s your address?”
As the girl rattled it off, Nico saved it into his phone’s GPS. “Try to find somewhere to hide. Somewhere with a lock or where you can push something in front of the door,” Nico said, trying to remain calm.
“We’ll be right there,” Mal promised.
“Please hur—” A huge boom drowned out her words, then a sound like splintering wood sent a shock of panic through him. Fuck. They listened to the sound of scuffling as they both shot from the bed, stuffing their feet into whatever pants they reached first, both freezing as Casey screamed.
Then the call disconnected.
The moment the call went dead, Mal was on his feet, grabbing the jeans he’d abandoned on the floor at some point, shoving his legs inside. He snagged a black hoodie, shoving it over his head, then heading to the closet, rummaging along the top shelf before finding the lockbox and pulling it down. By the time he had his gun freed, Nico was dressed as well. In Mal’s jeans. In Mal’s hot pink hoodie. Mal’s gaze snagged on him for longer than necessary before handing him the other gun, watching as Nico did a check as well.
Mal made a quick phone call to Jericho, then they bolted down the stairs, flagging down a car. Jericho’s instructions had been very clear. Take a taxi, pay cash, say nothing in front of the driver.
It should have been easy.
Maybe it was…for anyone but Mal. His broken brain processed new information in a way most people would find confusing. He just found it maddening. The cab smelled like menthol cigarettes, mint gum, and some kind of cleaner thatburned his nose and danced over his tongue whenever his lips parted. The city lights strobed outside the windows, distorted by the fog of condensation, making him flinch. Road noise and something vibrating within the vents of the air conditioning rubbed at his skin like sandpaper, painful as they ground against his nerves.
Mal’s head throbbed from the overstimulation, a migraine threatening to overpower him at any moment. He’d forgotten his headphones. They never gave him the silence he craved, but they brought the volume rattling his skull to a level that allowed him to remain functional and not be reduced to a useless lump, rocking and crying in the corner.
