“Because that’s too much,” Sasha explains. “You knock with one hand so the other’s free to protect your face in case the door flies open. God.”
Levi squints. “Oh. Okay.”
Sasha is already bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Let me go first.”
“You sure?” I ask, even though I know she’s been vibrating with anticipation since we reached the fourthfloor. “You only get one shot.”
She scoffs. “Please. He probably won’t even answer. I bet he’s asleep.”
He is. I know he is. Don’t ask how.
Sasha bolts before I can say go. She runs, raps three sharp knocks on the door, and whips around the corner. I count the seconds in my head.
One.
Two.
Three.
Nothing.
I peek my head around and squint.
Still nothing.
Sasha frowns, breathing hard. “That was textbook.”
“It really was,” I say, impressed. “A master class in knock-and-run.”
“Maybe he’s in the shower?” Levi suggests.
Sasha levels him with a look. “He’s a grown man. He showers at, like, 5 a.m. because he’s weird.”
She’s not wrong.
“Okay,” I say, clapping once. “Levi, you’re up.”
He salutes me and takes off at full speed, his little legs moving so fast he’s practically a blur. He gives the door three quick smacks and bolts back toward us.
This time, the door opens.
Beckett appears.
He looks sleepy and frowning, with his hair sticking up in all directions.
Shit.
I lunge forward and slap both hands over the kids’ mouths before Levi can shout “It worked!” and blow our cover to hell.
We duck low and stay silent.
Beckett steps into the hallway in a T-shirt andsweats, one hand dragging across his face. He glances left, then right.
“Hello?” he calls out, voice still gravelly.
Sasha’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. Levi has a tear rolling down his cheek from trying not to explode.
Beckett sighs, rubs the back of his neck, mutters something that sounds like a curse, then turns back inside.
