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Moms.
There was no one else like them in the world.
At that thought, a pain seized my heart, making me almost double over with it on my way to the bedroom to put the clothes away.
She was going to be fine, damnit.
She had to be.
With that, I pulled on some panties and one of the outfits Nino’s mom had provided—canary yellow linen pants and a simple white t-shirt—then made my way back out into the main area of the house.
That was when I heard it.
Ringing.
Something was ringing.
But Nino had taken his phone with him. And as far as I could tell, there was no landline.
There was no mistaking it, though.
A phone was ringing.
And the sound was coming from the… island?
Had his mom provided me with an extra phone? So Nino could contact me?
Even as I thought that, though, I brushed it aside. Because this was a familiar ring. One I’d recorded myself because it was loud, but not alarming, so it didn’t give me a jolt of anxiety whenever it caught me off guard.
It wasmyphone.
They must have brought it from Nino’s house.
With that, I flew across the suite, my heart lodged in my throat. My arms shot out, knocking random items—a disposable razor, a bottle of lotion, and a variety pack of tampons with “Just in case!”written on the front with black permanent marker—to the ground in my haste.
My hands were shaking as I looked down at the screen.
And there it was.
Mom calling.
“Mom?” I yelped into the phone, my voice sounding like the panicked little girl I very much felt like right then.
“If you want to see your mother alive again, meet us at the old bike shop off of Taylor Avenue. You have thirty minutes.”
Click.
It was straight out of a freaking action movie. Or some serialized drama show on TV.
People actually made calls like that?
Made demands like that?
I guess the films and shows had to base it off of something real, right?
I didn’t stop to think.
I mean, why the hell would I waste that kind of time?
