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“He’s late.” Kendrick hissed in impatience. The only sound occupying the Kingston kitchen was the tapping of his foot tapping against the floor. The broad-shouldered fighter stood tall with his arms crossed against his chest.
“He’ll be there soon. Relax,” Haze replied.
“Can we trust him?” Blake asked.
“Devon’s never let me down before.”
“You’re not answering my question, jackass.”
“Listen, trustworthy or not, Devon’s our best option right now, so shut up and deal with it.”
It was the morning of day two. It had been more than twenty-four hours since she had been taken God knew where by God knew who. Day two was usually the day the kidnapper called to either ask for money or something along those lines. But nothing. Just dreadful silence. It was like whoever took Winter only wanted her gone.
A loud thump on the door interrupted the horrible scenarios spinning in Kendrick’s head.
“Finally.” He opened the door.
The fighter took a sudden step back when the weary-looking guy standing on his porch pushed past him and walked inside the house. He looked around twenty-three years old, wore full-rimmed glasses, torn jeans, and a gray T-shirt with nonidentifiable stains on it. Kendrick’s first impression was that he looked like the definition of the video-game addict who spent the majority of his time in his parents’ basement.
“Thanks for coming.” Haze motioned to sit down at the table.
Devon nodded, glancing around the room in an unbothered yet strangely judgmental way.
“Is this your first time doing this?” Kendrick asked.
Devon didn’t reply and looked straight into Kendrick’s eyes as a reply. He then dropped his backpack on the kitchen tiles and unzipped it.
Will mocked, “Okay? That’s not creepy at all.”
“Devon’s a man of little words,” Haze replied.
Kendrick repeated, “Has he ever done this before?”
“Yes. Now, stop talking and let him do his job.”
Devon sat down at the kitchen table and got a computer out of his backpack. Ten minutes later everything was set up, and although Will, Kendrick, Alex, and Blake had no clue what was happening, they tried their best to pretend they did.
One look from Devon was all it took for Haze to understand.
“It’s ready,” Haze said.
Static.
A couple of rings.
Then a voice.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m naked on my bed waiting for you.”
The East Side chuckled immaturely, trading glances.
“Not tonight, Rose. I’m busy.”
“With what?”
“I’ve got this thing. Sorry.”
“Is it another girl? It’s Chloe, isn’t it?”
