Barbarian (Jericho’s Boys #3)

9. Mal

Nico was acting weird.

No, that wasn’t right. Everyone was acting weird.

Everyone but Mal. He stood in the kitchen, a bakery bag hanging off his finger, unsure what to do with this revelation. He was never the normal one in any situation, except maybe during a murder. And that was only normal in his very small circle of very fucked-up friends.

Nico leaned against the counter, Shiloh hovering beside him, looking concerned. Levi lounged against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest like he was their bodyguard. Mal mentally ran over a list of things he could have done to cause this reaction, but nothing came to mind. Well, nothing Nico would have shared with their roommates.

Would he?

They’d all been in the middle of a heated conversation when he walked into the apartment, but all talk had ceased the moment he closed the front door. The first thing he noticed was Nico’s despondent look and the flush on his cheeks. The second thing he noticed was his brother’s refusal to make eye contact with him.

“Hey,” he finally said—hesitantly—looking at Nico. “I brought your cheesecake.”

Nico gave him a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Thanks, Bunny. I think I’ll just eat it later. I’m gonna go shower.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Mal said as Nico scooted past him in the narrow entryway then disappeared into their room. He reached into the bag and pulled out a piece of chocolate cake—Shiloh’s favorite—holding it out to him. “I got you your favorite, too.”

Shiloh’s gaze jerked to his for a split second, his cheeks almost crimson compared to Nico’s. What the fuck was happening? “Oh, thanks. It looks amazing.”

Mal wasn’t sure how Shiloh would know that, given how quickly he’d glanced at the dessert, but he didn’t push the issue. When Shiloh also left the kitchen without his cake, Mal raised his brows at Levi, who just sighed, grabbing two forks and the cake from Mal’s hand before slapping him on the back in a consoling way.

“Hang in there, man. I promise, this is good for you.”

With that cryptic message, he followed Shiloh into their room.

Mal waited until he heard Nico leave their bedroom and close himself in the bathroom before he set his cheesecake in the fridge and then went to gather their laundry, taking it to the basement alone. The laundry room was empty as well. Freakishly so. Mal separated their laundry into two machines quickly so he could at least have the hum of the washers to drown out the silence.

Once they were running, the shake and rattle of the washers dulling the ringing in his ears, he fell into one of the plastic chairs. He thumbed open his WhatsApp, scrolling back through his conversation with Nico. There had to be some clue. Something that would tell him what he’d done to accidentally upset him between this morning and now. They’d seemed fine. Nico had even joked with him…had kissed him.

Everything seemed normal, though. They’d texted off and on all day, just as they always did. They’d sent their usual stickers and emojis, and talked about their evening plans. Mal had even brought Nico cheesecake. He loved cheesecake.

That was when he noticed it. Their group chat.

At any given time of day, their friend group was rambling non-stop about anything from their next mission in Paladin to why macaroni and cheese on pizza was a genius idea. The chat often went so fast it was impossible for any one person to read everything. But there was a weird lull midday, a long period of silence that was so unlike his friends that he’d thought something was wrong with his cell service.

Had they created a new group chat without him? The thought sent a shock of…something through him. Mal had never been one for friendships. As a child he’d been called weird…off-putting. And he couldn’t even argue. It was true. His sensory issues had often made it hard to tolerate other children and his ever fluctuating personality made people uneasy. Add to that a suicidal mother, a psychotic older brother, and a younger brother who coped with trauma by slipping into fugue states and it was easy to see why the Mizrahi family were pariahs.

But Shiloh meeting Levi had changed all that. Shiloh had fallen in love and accidentally gave both of them a family they’d never had. Their friend group never questioned Mal’s ever-shifting mindsets, his sensory issues, his aversion to certain colors, shapes, textures. They had never questioned how Shiloh had coped with his trauma. They had just accepted both of them as they were, scars and all.

The unexpected silence of the group chat made Mal feel like there was a block of ice in his stomach. It was…disconcerting. Were they all in there deciding how to cut him from their lives? Even his brother? Had Micah been right all along? Was Mal just too weird to live in society?

The sound of shoes scuffing on concrete jerked him from his thoughts. He looked at the doorway just in time to see Nico fall through it, looking a little shaken at almost falling face-first into the room. Mal bit back a smile at Nico’s wide eyes. He was so clumsy. Mal loved him so much.

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat at the thought. What would he do without Nico? Was he coming to tell him that the council had spoken and he’d been excommunicated from the group? Nico went to the washer directly in front of Mal’s seat, hopping onto the top and swinging his feet, flip-flops dangling from his toes.

He wore a pair of Mal’s pink joggers and a black hoodie that had Mal’s name emblazoned on the back. That had to be a good sign, right? Why would he be wearing Mal’s clothes if he was done with him?

Nico looked at Mal from beneath hooded lids. “You left without me.”

Mal blinked rapidly at Nico’s sulky tone. “You didn’t seem like you wanted me around.”

Nico scoffed at that, still looking pouty. “I always want you around.”

Mal swallowed past the lump in his throat at Nico’s casual statement.

“Then are you mad at me?” Mal finally asked. “Did I do something that upset you? You’re acting weird.”

Nico heaved a huge sigh, giving him a soft look. “No, of course not. I just have a lot on my mind, you know?”

Mal didn’t know. When Nico had a lot on his mind, it was Mal he talked to. He stood and crossed the room, heart in his throat as Nico opened his knees to let him step between them. “Like…”

Nico shrugged, mouth twitching in what might have been a grimace. “I’m just thinking about when I was little.”

Mal’s stomach swooped. “About your mom?”

Mal had never met Nico’s mother, but she was the bane of his existence. If not for her, Nico would be his. He was certain of it. If the two of them were ever in the same room, Mal might go back to prison. He’d never understand Nico’s loyalty to her. Never. He rarely talked about her, but Levi did. Levi hated her, too, hated how she’d warped Nico’s whole idea of love.

Nico nodded, scraping his nails over his clothed thighs. It was a nervous tic, something he did when he was edging his way to a panic attack. “I called her on my way home from school. It went straight to voicemail.”

Mal took Nico’s restless hands in his, squeezing them tightly, hoping it might help regulate Nico’s system a bit. “Maybe she was on a plane or in the middle of something.”

Nico gave him a sad smile. “I’m not offended that she didn’t answer. I just can’t stop thinking about stuff from when I was a kid. Dark stuff. Stuff I don’t want to think about.”

“What brought this on? Your mom not answering your call?”

Mal’s heart seized in his chest when he realized there were suddenly tears in Nico’s eyes. What was going on with him? Was this Mal’s fault? Had he pushed him too hard last night?

“Degas,” Nico said.

Mal blinked at him stupidly. “The painter?”

“Mm,” Nico said wetly, tears spilling onto his cheeks. Mal released his hands to wipe at the wetness, but it was useless. He was crying too hard. Mal wasn’t sure Nico was even aware of it. But he kept talking, so Mal went back to holding his hands, stomach dropping when Nico threaded their fingers together absently. Like it was his default setting. Like Nico’s hands belonged in Mal’s. “He was the topic of class today. I told the professor that Degas was a psychopath who probably had body parts in his freezer back in the day.”

Mal snorted, shaking his head. Of course, Nico had said that to a room full of art history students. He really had no filter.

“I’m sure he loved that,” Mal said with a faint smile. “Why, exactly, do you think this about Degas?”

Mal didn’t care about Degas or the potential bodies in his freezer. He only cared that Nico was talking to him, holding his hands, confiding in him again. He only cared that Nico was still his.

Nico sniffled, then shrugged. “There’s a girl on TikTok who thinks Degas was the real Jack the Ripper. Her evidence is pretty compelling.”

Mal laughed softly. “So, you shared this with the class?”

Nico nodded. “I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

Nico was not the world’s most devoted student. Mal wasn’t sure why he was even going to school other than it just seemed like something to do. He had no real major in mind to Mal’s knowledge. His general education classes seemed to bore him. He was so much better at just…doing.

Reading didn’t work on Nico. Nico was a tactile person. Show him something being done and he could emulate it. That was why he was so good at helping Jericho in the garage. He’d learned from spending hours following the older man around. He’d had plenty of time. Everything good about Nico had come from Jericho taking him in as a pre-teen.

Mal caught Nico’s gaze, staring at his wet lashes. “Explain to me how Degas being a serial killer led to you wanting to call your mom and thinking about stuff that happened when you were little.”

The sudden dread in Nico’s eyes instantly made Mal regret asking. But he didn’t take it back. This was something Nico needed to get out. To purge the toxins from his system once and for all. Nico fell silent for a long while as a black hole formed in Mal’s chest. Maybe it was mean to make him relive all this.

Mal squeezed Nico’s hands once again, ready to tell him it was okay if he wasn’t ready to talk about it, but before he could, Nico started to speak, his voice monotone.

“When I was little, there were always guys in my house. From the time I can first remember until I was almost thirteen years old. My mom always had a man in the house. And that man was always a monster.”

Mal’s stomach churned. He could see Nico attempting to dissociate himself from the words, the memories, could see him trying to tell Mal his history without reliving it. He’d watched Shiloh do it one too many times. Nico sniffled again, cheeks wet, tears dripping onto Mal’s hoodie he wore.

“I’m listening. I’m right here,” he said softly.

Nico swallowed audibly, shaking his head, his expression pained. “Every single relationship she had—and there were so fucking many—always went the same way. She’d meet some random guy, usually at the club, and would instantly fall for his bullshit. One day, she was still heartbroken from X, the next she was gushing about her new love.”

Nico gave a shuddery sigh. “That was when things were best in the house. When she was happy and still in the love-bombing stage. Before he would move in. She would be nice to me. She’d hug me. She’d watch movies with me. She’d bring home pizza or candy. I got her attention, her love. And all I had to do was listen to her repeat all the lies she told herself. This guy was definitely the one. He was ideal. This time, everything was going to be different and I’d have a ‘real’ dad.”

Mal wanted to hug him, to tell him he didn’t have to go into all this if he didn’t want to. But that wasn’t what Nico required. So, Mal let him talk, the quiet rocking of the washers giving him something to anchor to so he didn’t lose it and start ranting about how much he hated Nico’s mom.

This wasn’t about Mal.

“Obviously, the honeymoon phase never lasted long. She’d move them in right away. They’d start ordering me around, pushing me around, trying to find any excuse to get me out of the way.”

Mal released one of Nico’s hands, curling his hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer just to press their foreheads together. Just to be near him. Nico’s knees squeezed Mal’s sides, his free hand bunching in Mal’s shirt, connecting their lips in a chaste kiss that lingered. Mal could taste the salt of Nico’s tears on his lips.

When they broke apart, Nico kept talking like nothing had happened. “Within two weeks, they’d be fighting every day. He’d be slapping her, punching her. Some of my earliest memories I have involve watching my mom sit on top of the bathroom counter, mixing a concoction of concealers to hide her different colored bruises, giving me these reassuring smiles, like it was no big deal. Like the fact that she had to be some kind of fucking makeup artist to hide what they did to her was totally normal.”

“It sounds like, maybe to her, it was,” Mal said.

How many times had Mal watched Shiloh do the same things after Micah had gotten to him while Mal was gone? How many times had Shiloh given him that same reassuring smile, the one that was meant to assuage his guilt? Some rational part of Mal had known he couldn’t be with Shiloh twenty-four seven. But he could have killed Micah much sooner. Could have taken him out of the equation before he’d done so much damage to Shiloh.

Nico nodded. “Sometimes, it seemed like she…craved it. Like she didn’t know how to function without it. I know that sounds so fucked up—like I’m victim blaming—but it was like she couldn’t equate love with anything other than violence.”

“I don’t think you’re victim blaming. You were a victim, too.”

More so than Nico’s mom, surely. Nico was a child. He’d had no way of protecting himself. Since they’d met, Mal had managed to glean many things from Nico’s childhood just from passing comments and disturbing jokes shared in the group chat. Jokes that are only funny to anyone so traumatized they don’t even realize what they’re saying shouldn’t be funny.

Nico’s friends hadn’t come together by accident. Jericho had rescued them—all of them—from one form of hell or another. Kids were tragically resilient. Maybe if Mal felt things like normal people, he’d make jokes, too.

“Once they were comfortably inserted into our lives, once they knew she wouldn’t fight back, then the manipulation started, stealing her money, stealing her car…anything of value they could get their hands on. That was when her excuses started. To me. To her friends. It was always the same thing. ‘He only hits me when he’s drunk. I shouldn’t have kept arguing. It wasn’t stealing because we were a couple.’”

Mal nodded. It was all depressingly commonplace.

“You know she started turning tricks just to make more money for some guy whose name I don’t even remember? I don’t think she remembers either.” His expression grew broody, his words bitter. “She has a real selective memory.”

Mal froze, searching Nico’s face. “What do you mean?”

Nico chewed on his lip for a long moment before finally saying, “She swears…like, hand-to-God swears…that she always protected me from them, no matter how bad it got.”

His laugh was as bitter as the words falling from his tongue.

“She tells anyone who will listen how she was all mama bear about keeping me safe. How even if they’d hurt her, she’d kept me safe. But it’s all fucking lies. She didn’t protect me, not from anything. Not when they hit me, not when they touched me, not when they whispered that they could get real money for turning me out, too.”

Jesus Christ.

“Baby…” Mal breathed, not sure if he wanted him to stop or keep going.

Nico hiccuped on a sob. “She made excuses for them. Said I was lying. Said I should keep that stuff to myself because it could ruin their lives. It’s like she’s just…re-written history with herself as the heroine of the story. And I try to play along. I really do. It’s in the past, right? She’s moved onto…whatever it is she has now. This…way of controlling her own narrative. But what about me?”

Nico’s voice broke on the last sentence, destroying Mal’s already tentative hold on his rage. He pulled Nico into his arms, crushing him against him as he cried, maybe harder than he did the night before. Had Mal stirred all this up with his spanking last night? Was this really all about Degas, or was this something far deeper coming back because Mal was pushing him beyond his limits?

Mal caught Nico beneath his thighs and brought him back to the uncomfortable plastic chair, cuddling him in his arms while he let him cry it out and Mal spun increasingly violent scenarios in his head about what he’d do when he inevitably came face to face with Nico’s mother.

Mal had always had his suspicions about Nico being molested as a child. Levi had talked about similar situations from growing up with an alcoholic mother. A mother who was still out there somewhere, waiting to make herself known once more, like some horror movie monster. Nico and Levi had relied heavily on each other as kids; there was a bond there he hadn’t shared with the others. Mal hated that this was the string that tied Nico and Levi together.

Mal combed his fingers through Nico’s curls until his sobs stopped. He didn’t try to reassure him that everything would be okay. He didn’t try to soothe him with empty platitudes. Nico needed a therapist. At this point, they practically had Jeremiah on speed dial. Maybe he’d have Shiloh bring it up to Nico in a couple of days, when this all wasn’t so…raw.

Nico stayed in his arms, dozing on his shoulder until the washers buzzed. Mal stood, then settled Nico in his abandoned chair to deal with the laundry. Nico pulled his legs to his chest, then wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees as he watched Mal move the laundry. When he finished, he set an alarm on his phone to remind him to come get their clothes when they were dry.

When Mal offered Nico his hand to help him up, he accepted. Once on his feet, he released him only long enough to wrap himself around Mal’s arm before threading their fingers together once more. Mal’s whole body flushed warm as he stared down at the top of Nico’s head. He tried not to read too much into the sudden affection. Nico was always touchy with Mal. But this felt different somehow. Like something had shifted.

Or maybe Mal was just crazy.

Mal was definitely crazy.

Maybe Mal wasn’t crazy.

Nico hadn’t let Mal out of his sight since they returned home from the laundry room. He’d followed him like his shadow as he’d moved around the apartment, not talking, just going wherever Mal was. The kitchen, Shiloh and Levi’s room, even the bathroom. If Mal stood, Nico was on him, his expression immediately growing tense.

When he’d followed Mal into the bathroom, he hadn’t stopped him. It was hardly the first time he’d pissed in front of him. With only one bathroom, everyone in their apartment had gotten painfully familiar with each other’s most intimate basic hygiene requirements.

In the rush to get to work or school, concessions were made. Someone would brush their teeth while another was in the shower. People would bust into the room to empty their bladders when they just couldn’t hold out anymore.

Mal liked that there were no barriers between him and Nico, no secrets, no privacy. It probably made him weird, but Mal didn’t care. They’d seen each other at their worst. Sad. Sick. Hungover. There was nothing Nico could do that would alter the way Mal loved him. Literally nothing. The whole world knew Mal would cut himself open and let Nico crawl inside if it meant he was safe and warm.

When Mal had finally flopped onto their bed to scroll on his phone until it was time to leave, Nico had followed, burrowing into his side, pressing his ear to Mal’s chest with a sigh like this was all he’d desired from him the whole time. Maybe it was. Nico had drifted off almost immediately. Mal had let him sleep until it was time to go.

Nico had gotten up, grumbling the whole time. He’d splashed water on his face, then slipped his sneakers on, taking Mal’s hand, like it was something they had always done. He didn’t question it. He was afraid if he pointed it out, Nico might stop. But he didn’t. He didn’t let go of Mal’s hand the whole drive to the restaurant.

He didn’t talk either, just stared out the window watching the world fly by, his expression no longer sad but…contemplative, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. When Mal opened Nico’s door for him to get out, he wrapped his arm around Mal’s once more, clinging to him like someone might wrestle him away from Nico if he let go for even a minute.

Mal hated how much he loved Nico needing him.

Stepping into the Blue Velvet Diner was like stepping into a time machine. It was exactly what Mal imagined it would be. The scent of food hit them the moment they entered, Nico moaning his pleasure in a way that had Mal willing himself not to get hard just listening to it. Nico had a bizarre obsession with breakfast foods.

The place was brightly lit and cheery with little jukeboxes on every table and various oldies playing from each one. Everything inside was Coca-Cola red and aqua blue with the exception of the black and white checkerboard floors and the chrome stools that lined the counter. The diner’s specials were written in blue and white chalk with cute little drawings that matched those painted on every other window.

Nico seemed instantly enchanted with the place, his eyes going wide, looking happier than Mal had seen him in hours. They looked around for the girl from the market—Lisa—but she wasn’t there.

An older woman greeted them and pointed at a sign that said they could seat themselves. They nodded in acknowledgement, then found a table at the back. Cartoonish depictions of pancakes and eggs and burgers and fries occluded the panes of glass, hiding them from sight. Someone had also penned important information on the glass for those driving by. Mal learned the Blue Velvet Diner was open all night, that Wednesdays were all-you-can-eat pancakes and that they’d been in business since 1974.

When Mal slid into the booth, Nico slid in right beside him, testing the bounce of the seats before snagging the menu and flipping open its laminated pages, groaning again as he perused it. “I’m starving and there are so many things to choose from. How am I supposed to decide?” he lamented.

Mal grinned, shaking his head. “Order whatever you want, Fidget. It’s on me.”

“Duh,” Nico said, but instead of giving Mal his usual exasperated eye roll, he gazed up at him with a softness that stole his breath. “When have you ever made me pay for anything?”

Mal’s ears grew hot under Nico’s scrutiny. His soft gaze turned into an almost smug smile. Mal hid his own smile by looking out the window, watching for Lisa. In the reflection, Mal watched a girl in a teal dress with red piping approach. He turned to face the server as she pulled a pad of paper from the pocket of her crisp white apron.

She was dressed the part, almost no detail spared. Her fire-engine red high ponytail bounced as she tapped her foot, gazing at them expectantly. Her bangs were slicked back in a complicated looking swoop, held in place by two teal clips the same color as her uniform. She chomped obnoxiously on gum, her full lips the same crimson as her hair. When she had their attention, she gave them a toothy smile and introduced herself as Kimmy, then launched into their specials.

Nico chatted with the girl like they were old friends, complimenting her dangly plastic heart earrings and her flawless makeup. Within seconds, Nico had her eating out of the palm of his hand. She batted her big brown eyes at him, clearly smitten. Mal placed his hand over Nico’s on the table, giving her a pointed look. Her smile wavered, but she recovered quickly.

The conversation soon died, but not before Nico ordered a soda and Mal a water. She gave them another flash of her startlingly impeccable teeth, then turned on her practical white orthopedic sneakers, presumably to get their drinks.

“Was that necessary?” Nico asked once they were alone, his amusement evident in his tone.

“Was what necessary?” Mal countered, playing dumb.

Nico laughed softly. “Scaring that girl? She was just doing her job. We weren’t planning on running away together.”

“All I did was hold your hand,” Mal muttered.

“Then your brain might want to have a conversation with your face, because you looked at her like you were contemplating how to dispose of her body.”

Mal dipped his head, pressing his lips just behind Nico’s ear in a barely-there kiss before saying, “It’s not my fault she made the mistake of flirting with someone who belongs to me.”

Mal felt Nico shiver, leaning into his lips. He scraped his teeth along the sensitive skin there just to hear Nico gasp, then righted himself, staring after Kimmy, watching her behind the counter. So what if he was a little possessive? Someone had to be. Nico was constantly putting himself in danger. He was too trusting.

“You’re too trusting,” he said, out loud this time.

Nico grinned at Mal. “Too trusting with…the waitress? What did you think she was gonna do? Swindle me out of my inheritance? If you opened my wallet right now all you would find is fifty cents in change and a condom that has been in there so long I’m almost positive it expired. I think you’re safe, Bunny.”

Mal glowered at him. “She clearly thought you were cute.”

“I am cute,” Nico countered, pressing his chin into his own palms and making a silly face at Mal. “I’m fucking adorable.”

Mal’s heart cartwheeled in his chest.

Nico was fucking adorable.

That was the problem.

How was Mal supposed to protect him from the world when he was just walking around with that angelic face and that mischievous personality that made everyone want to be near him? It was hard enough scaring off the men who approached Nico. Now he had to worry about overly flirtatious girls in ugly shoes, too? At least when they were out partying, Nico and Mal looked so pretty the girls there all just assumed they were gay.

Which, to be fair, they were.

“You’re alright, I guess,” Mal said grumpily, earning another laugh from Nico.

When it died, Nico asked, “Do you think she’s coming? We’ve been here a while.”

Mal looked out the window again, then at the front door. “I don’t know. Maybe she changed her mind.”

“You don’t think anything happened to her, do you?” Nico asked, unease creeping into his tone.

Mal shrugged. “I hope not.”

When they’d talked to Lisa earlier, she’d clearly been afraid. Her eyes had darted around like a deer in a hunter’s scope. Like she could sense the danger coming at her from all sides and didn’t know where to run. She’d been wary of the two men who’d sat there seemingly paying them no mind, but she’d also appeared worried about the women surrounding her as well.

When it came to the criminal underworld, someone was always watching. And someone was always snitching. Lisa clearly had thought those around her couldn’t be trusted. How much of their conversation had they heard? Mal tried to remember if they’d talked about anything too suspicious.

Kimmy returned with their drinks, her eyes widening as Nico ordered eggs, bacon, hash browns, a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, and a side of french fries. Mal ordered a black coffee, earning a scowl from Nico.

“What’s wrong?” Mal asked, biting back a smile.

“Now, it just looks like I ordered a bunch of food,” Nico said, huffy.

“You did,” Mal pointed out.

Nico gave him an exasperated look. “Yeah, but, like…I’m not going to eat all of it.”

“If I ate like you did, then we’d both be sick later and then who would rub your belly and baby you while you loudly yelled at me for letting you eat so much?” Mal asked, raising his brows, daring Nico to deny it.

“Whatever, that’s not the point,” Nico insisted.

This wasn’t a new fight. They had this argument at least twice a week. Mal would take Nico out or they’d order in. Nico would order entirely too much food while Mal ordered almost nothing, then Nico would complain about it. In the end, Nico would only eat a quarter of what he ordered, and Mal would be forced to eat the rest so Nico didn’t complain about them wasting money.

Even though it was Mal’s money to waste.

Mal rolled his eyes, knowing he’d be eating more than enough of Nico’s leftovers. Mal didn’t care about food the way Nico did. He ate to stay alive. He ate to nourish his body so he could keep dancing. Nico loved food. He loved to eat. And Mal liked watching Nico eat. It was always a full body experience. The exaggerated facial expressions, the moaning, the whining later about his upset tummy, insisting Mal baby him for the rest of the night.

Mal pretended this irritated him, but he secretly loved it. Though, it was obviously not the secret he’d thought it was. While they waited for their food, Nico tucked himself up under Mal’s arm, propping his phone screen in front of them so they could watch cute animal videos on TikTok. Their eyes were still on the screen when their plates were set in front of them.

“Can I get ketch—” Nico started, glancing up at their server, the words dying on his lips.

Mal followed his gaze to the girl standing beside the table. There, in the same diner uniform as Kimmy, stood Lisa. Like Kimmy, her glossy black hair was pulled into a ponytail, her makeup flawless, though more subdued.

She took a seat opposite them, pulling a dinner-sized salad they hadn’t ordered towards her, grabbing a fork and diving in.

They watched in awe as she stabbed her salad, piercing a cherry tomato and bringing it to her lips. When she noticed them staring, she widened her eyes at them, defensive. “What? I only get a twenty minute meal break. I’m hungry. Talk.”

“You work here?” Nico asked.

Lisa gave him a look. “What gave it away?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“You were nicer this morning,” Nico muttered, picking up his bacon and taking a bite, chewing aggressively.

“Yeah, well, part of my job is customer service. But I’m off the clock. I’m not obligated to be nice to people. If you’ve got questions, ask them now. I’m not meeting you like this again.” She looked out the window. “This is the only place I know where they don’t watch me.”

“They?” Mal echoed.

She flicked her gaze at Mal. “Yeah, they. The ghosts. They’re always watching us.”

“Ghosts?” Nico repeated, his fork halfway to his lips.

“Yeah, the GTB. Ghost Talon Brotherhood.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s what they call themselves. They’re an offshoot of the Red Lotus Clan out of Hong Kong. GTB are trying to make a name for themselves, trying to impress the elders. But their leader isn’t as smart as he is sadistic.”

“So, we really are dealing with triad,” Nico said, looking at Mal.

Lisa looked around, dropping her voice. “Like I said, they’re not very smart, but what they lack in smarts, they make up for in brutality. The guy in charge, Liang Wei, he’s the son of the Dai Lo.”

“Dai Lo?” Nico parroted.

“The Dragon Head,” Lisa said. “The big brother. The boss. The scariest of the scary. Liang Wei fucked up back in Hong Kong and got shipped over here to try to prove himself by running some of their smaller operations.”

Mal tilted his head, stealing a fry from Nico’s plate. “Smaller operations?”

“Over there, they’re making their money off narcotics and human trafficking. Here, it’s counterfeit goods. But Liang Wei—Leo—has fucked up. He’s trying to expand too quickly and he’s put the twins in charge. Now, he’s in over his head.”

Mal didn’t know if any of this had to do with Amy, but Jericho should know this was happening in their neighborhood anyway. “Who are the twins?”

“Zhao Jun and Zhao Feng. Jason and Frankie over here. They’re not actually twins, just brothers, but they look similar enough that people just call them the twins when they want to talk shit about them without naming names.”

“Do people talk a lot of shit about them?” Nico asked, feeding Mal another fry without looking.

Lisa took a sip of her water, then shook her head, her expression grim. “Not anymore,” she said cryptically. “Leo brought in Jason to try to fix his mistakes in the business here, hoping his father wouldn’t see how badly he’s screwing up. If he did notice, he would have Jason there as a buffer. The Dragon Head loves Jason, so Leo figured it would win him some points with daddy. But bringing in Jason meant bringing in Frankie, and Frankie is a psychopath who runs a gang of little mini-psychopaths, like that guy Eric, who was killed.”

“So, this Eric guy was one of Frankie’s men?” Nico asked, his brows furrowed in concentration.

She nodded.

“Do you know where Amy is?” Mal asked. “Casey is really worried about her.”

“Casey?” Lisa asked. “Her daughter? You mean she’s not with her mother?”

Nico frowned. “Did you think she was?”

Lisa nodded, her unease obvious. “The story around the stalls is that Amy killed Eric then ran off with Casey. Leo is big mad about it. He’s got everyone looking for her.”

“Do you know where Amy might be?” Mal asked again.

Lisa gave a helpless shrug, shaking her head. “Up until right this second, I thought they were telling us the truth. That Eric had gone after Amy and she’d defended herself and ran with Casey.”

“Why did they send Eric there in the first place?” Nico asked around a forkful of pancakes. “Does she owe them money or something?”

She shook her head again. “Amy is too smart for that. She’s just too talented for her own good. They needed her and she was starting to complain too much. They were afraid she was going to run.”

Mal turned that information over in his head a few times. “So, what was their plan? Kidnap her? Force her to keep making counterfeit bags?”

Lisa startled, seemingly surprised that Mal knew Amy was the one making the bags, but she recovered quickly. “They weren’t coming for Amy. They were after Casey. Leo thought if he kept Casey, then Amy would keep quiet and do as she’s told.”

“That seems…illogical,” Mal said. “Maybe that might work short-term, but they could hardly keep a kid locked up indefinitely. Right?”

“They have a whole sweatshop going. They wanted Amy to train the others to do the work as she did,” she explained. “These bags make Leo a lot of money, not just here but overseas. The demand is high. Not just for the bags but for the drugs they smuggle inside those bags.”

“So, why not just find someone else to train them?” Nico asked. “She can’t be the only one who knows how to make a knock-off bag.”

She shook her head once more like she was dealing with idiots. “Do you know how hard it is to trick a buyer who knows what they’re looking for? I’m not talking about your average buyer on the street but the ones who use these bags as investments.”

Nico snorted. “A purse as an investment?”

Lisa pointed her fork at him. “Two years ago, a Himalaya Niloticus Crocodile Birkin 35 sold at auction for $450,000. There are women all over the world on a waiting list for an Hermes Birkin bag. And these women know how to spot a fake, as do the appraisers they take them to.”

“And Amy could trick them?” Mal asked. “She knew how to make a bag look exactly like the one you mentioned?”

Lisa nodded. “It’s not just a matter of making a bag look the same. Couture bags use all kinds of tricks to ensure they can’t be duped. They look at the label, the stitching, the hardware, the leather, how the logo sits on the material, even the color of the thread they use to stitch the bag together. Amy was meticulous. She was a designer herself. She knew what to look for. She knew how to create exact replicas. They needed her to teach the others.”

“And they would just keep Casey indefinitely?” Nico said.

That would have been enough to keep Amy compliant for sure. But it hadn’t happened. None of this had happened. “But Amy didn’t run and Casey is with us. So, where did Amy go? Who else would want to hurt her?”

“I didn’t really know Amy. Like, we worked in the same stalls but up until GTB took over the market, we’d barely said two words to each other. I only know what I know because these bitches like to gossip.”

“The ladies in the other stalls?” Nico asked, staring at his half-eaten pancakes with a forlorn expression that told Mal he was getting full.

“No, the ghosts. They’re always running their mouths, always threatening us with all kinds of grotesque punishments, but they’re the ones who never stop talking.”

“And what are they saying?” Mal asked.

“Everything I just told you,” Lisa said. “I heard all that from the two idiots that you saw sitting there babysitting us this morning. They love to talk.”

Nico leaned heavily against Mal. “But you’ve never heard them say anything about Amy? Well, other than what you’ve already told us? She didn’t have any problems with other vendors? Maybe with a local buyer? Anyone?”

Lisa went silent, looking out the window, her expression guarded. “I did hear one thing, but I don’t know if it’s anything, really.”

“Tell us anyway,” Mal prompted.

“About four months ago, I overheard them talking about how Amy had done something that had pissed off one of the twins.”

Nico and Mal exchanged glances. “What was it?”

“She’d complained that one of them was harassing her. Following her around, asking her out, being a general nuisance. But she told Leo that if he wanted her to keep working for him, that he needed to make it stop. As far as I know, it did.”

“Which twin?” Nico asked.

She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. They’re both dangerous. They could both easily make Amy disappear to get even. But if they did, they didn’t clear it with Leo first because he still thinks Amy and Casey ran away.”

Mal nodded. “I think it’s best that he keeps believing that for now. Don’t you?”

“They’re not going to hear it from me,” Lisa said. “I’m just biding my time until I have enough saved for my tuition, then I’m moving to New York. Luckily, for me, I’m not really worth anything to them. They won’t care that I’m gone.”

Mal nodded again. “Can you take my number and call if you hear anything from anyone?”

Lisa gave a hesitant nod, unlocking her phone and handing it to Mal. He downloaded the encryption app and put in his details, then called himself to save her information before giving her phone back.

She stood, taking her plate with her. “I gotta get back to work. But just a word of advice. Watch your back. Those guys followed you out of the market today. They probably know you’re sniffing around.” She leaned against the table, dropping her voice so only they could hear her. “They’re fucking idiots, but they’re violent idiots, you know?”

Mal grimaced. “Don’t worry. We’ve dealt with more than our fair share of violent idiots.”

She gave one final nod and disappeared. Nico picked at his food for a few more minutes, but neither of them felt like eating after that. Kimmy arrived with their bill and a to-go box. Mal left cash on the table then headed for the exit, Nico still wrapped around his arm like a vine, though, this time clutching a styrofoam container full of leftovers.

Mal helped Nico into his seat before walking around to the driver’s side. He’d barely gotten the door closed before Nico was grabbing his shirt and dragging him across the console, crashing their lips together so hard their teeth clacked.

Heat flooded Mal’s system, his dick instantly on board with whatever this was. He wrapped his hand around Nico’s neck, adjusting the angle of the kiss but letting Nico set the pace.

Nico tasted like syrup, his tongue sweet. He bit and sucked at Mal’s lips, whining into his mouth whenever Mal did the same. Nico was greedy, frantic almost, clutching at Mal like he thought he was going to push him away.

And he did. But only because a group of good ol’ boys in trucker hats whooped loudly from the sidewalk. The windows were tinted and starting to fog up, but Mal wasn’t taking any chances.

Nico stared at him, eyes glazed, lips slick with spit, breathing a bit heavy. Mal tried to read between the lines, to guess what might be going on in Nico’s head, but he couldn’t be sure.

Just then, Nico dropped his hand to palm over Mal’s half-hard cock. “Take me home. Please.”

Mal blinked rapidly. It was almost impossible to think with all the blood rushing from his brain to his cock. “You want us to?—”

“Yes,” Nico cut him off, cheeks going pink in the overhead light. “Now. Tonight.”

Holy shit. What happened today that had changed Nico’s entire world view?

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Mal warned. “If we do this, the lights stay on.”

Nico nodded. “I-I know. I don’t care. Turn on every light in the whole apartment. I don’t care. Just take me home and fuck me.”

Mal could feel himself nodding like one of those bobblehead dolls, but he couldn’t stop. “Okay, but you’re going to have to take your hand off my dick or we’re not going to make it out of the parking lot.”

Nico looked disappointed, but retracted his hand. “Fine, but hurry.”

That wasn’t going to be a problem. Mal would violate every traffic law known to man if it meant getting inside Nico faster. “Buckle up, Fidget.”