The ringing had stopped and started all over again. Like a phone someone kept calling. Except our phones were on the nightstand, and there were no other ones here.
Tommy could have figured out my address. Or maybe Enzo gave it to him.
Hell, maybe it is Enzo himself. Maybe the blood I got on his suit earlier didn’t wash out.
My teeth gritted together, jaw locking tight as I moved down the hallway to confront whoever picked tonight to die. Because stepping into my house, putting my Pip at risk?
That makes you a dead man walking.
Was I supposed to make any kills not sanctioned by the government? No.
Did I give a rat’s ass? Also, no.
What were they gonna do, take me out themselves? They’d have to hire Kieran, and he’d shoot them for even asking.
The ringing got louder when I stepped into the living room but still seemed a little muffled. Like it was in someone’s pocket.
But really, who forgets to silence their phone when they break into someone’s house?
I mean, there’s amateur, and then there is stupid.
“It’s coming from over there,” Pip whispered in my ear, his finger pointing from beneath my arm.
After putting my back (well, his back) to the wall, I moved around the perimeter toward the dining room.
“Oh,” Pip announced as though he suddenly remembered what he’d forgotten at the grocery store.
Except he wasn’t the one who did the shopping.
“Shh,” I scolded.
“I think I know what it is,” he said, unwinding his legs like he was going to get off my back.
When pigs fucking fly.
“Stay where you are,” I warned, sweeping the room for any movement in response to our voices.
“It’s fine,” Rett said, dangling his feet toward the ground. “Put me down.”
“If you want down, grow longer legs.”
His arms unlatched, and his body dropped onto the floorwith a thud.
I backed up so I was right on top of him, crouching low. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“You do a good job, Hiro,” he praised, patting my lower back. “But it’s okay now.”
Well, wasn’t he the patron saint of patronizing?
He tried to step around me, but I threw my arm out like a seatbelt.
“It’s my backpack.”
“What?”
“The ringing is coming from my backpack.”
“I thought you didn’t have a phone,” I said, confused.
