Page 121 of Silas

He complies, pressing it to his thigh. I connect two zip-ties and cinch them around his thigh, yanking tight to cut off the circulation; he grunts once, stoically.

“The door locked?” I demand, still whispering.

He shakes his head.

“He asleep?”

Another negative.

I connect several zip-ties and then bind his wrists together and then connect them to his throat, so the harder he struggles the tighter the ties get. Last, I gag him like the others.

“Head down the stairs,” I order. “Slow, quiet.”

He slips down the stairs on his ass, one at a time, leaving a trail of blood.

My phone buzzes in my pocket—one ring, two, three…seven, and it cuts off.

Shit. Naomi.

I can’t. Not now. I have to trust her to take care of herself for a few more minutes.

It takes every last bit of my not-inconsiderable willpower to leave my phone in my pocket and ascend to the door.

I hear sounds from the other side: a male grunt, a female whimper. Another, louder whimper, and then a cry, and then a full-throated scream of orgasm. And then a muffled series of thuds coming faster and faster—a headboard slamming into the wall.

That’s when I make my entrance, twisting the knob and nudging it open.

The room is low and wide, with the ceiling angled sharply down on either side of the nook where the bed is located. There’s a dormer window on the left and the right, an antique rolltop desk on the left, and a bureau on the right.

Malik has a girl tied by her arms and legs to the antique brass headboard and footboard with colorful scarves, bound loosely and comfortably. He’s on top of her, light brown skin sheened with sweat, bare ass flexing as he pumps away at her. She’s white, petite from what I can see, with a splay of carrot-red hair. She’s still crying out in pleasure, her hips eagerly meeting his.

He goes harder, so hard I’m worried the headboard is going to go through the wall. He grunts, and then groans raspily, and then bellows as he finishes, thrusting hard and staying there for a moment before slumping onto her; she rests her forehead on his shoulder. He lays there on her for a moment, heaving.

She sees me, bright blue eyes going wide with fear. “Um, Malik?”

“Shut up, Lizzy. Gimme a second.” His voice is muffled in her chest; despite his words, his tone is affectionate.

“Malik,” she insists, louder. “There’s a man with a gun.”

“Goddammit Rick,” Malik snarls, rolling to his back. “Ain’t you got any goddamn manners—"

He cuts off when he sees it’s not Rick. He tenses, eyes narrowing. “The fuck is this?”

“Hello, Malik,” I say, keeping my weapon trained on him. “Long time no see.”

He lays back beside his girl, hands tucked behind his head, his posture laconic and at ease. It’s deceptive. I’d almost have fallen for it if I didn’t know there was a gun under the pillow.

“I don’t think so,old friend.” I shuffle forward and reach beneath the pillow to withdraw the gun, a heavy silver .45 with a pearl handle, his initials monogrammed in the center in diamonds.

Malik’s eyes follow me, narrowed dangerously. I see the moment he recognizes me.

“Silas Cabot, risen from his grave.” He relaxes visibly. “What are you doin’, man?”

Malik is an impressive specimen—even I can admit that. An inch or two taller than me, heavily muscled and lean, with brown skin hinting at his mixed-race heritage: Black, Hispanic, and Scottish. His eyes are light green, startling against the brown of his skin. His hair is in tightly twisted braids, long, bound together at the back of his head and dangling over one shoulder. A huge tattoo writhes across his skin, a phoenix rising from the small of his back over his whole spine and shoulders, its wings wrapping up over his shoulders and fire curling around his ribs.

The girl is in her mid-twenties with pale ivory skin to complement her fiery red hair and freckled face. Her tits are gargantuan, and judging by the way they jiggle with each terror-jerky breath, they’re entirely real. She’s shaved bare. She’s short, petite, with a narrow waist and curvy hips. Malik always did have good taste in women.

I glance at her, rolling my eyes as she starts to hyperventilate. “Relax. I’m not here to hurt anyone, least of all you. Slow down before you pass out.”