Askai went to the wardrobe and pulled out his bag. His cellphone was sitting on top of it. He immediately grabbed it and dialled Jordan's number, the panic settling in. He had been so lost in his own predicament that he almost forgot about him.
The ring was short; Jordan picked up immediately.
"Where in hell are you? You just disappeared!" Jordan yelled into the phone, his voice shaking with repressed fear.
"I am good. Fine. I am at Vance's place" Askai said, looking around the room decked in old luxuries, "—which one, I do not know—but I'll be out of here soon. Did anyone seek you out at Mrs. Wells's?"
"No one did. We've been clear. You know who those men were working for, Kai?" Jordan asked, his voice suddenly dropping to a low, tense whisper, as if someone was around.
Askai heard a cheerful voice in the background, "Is it Kai? Tell him I said hello."
"Will do," Jordan chirped back, shifting gears instantly. Then, back into the phone, "Mrs. Wells says hi. So, do you know the men?"
"That was a false alarm," Askai almost sighed into the phone, relief and exasperation battling in his chest. "They were Vance's men. Apparently, he was having me stalked, and when he found out that I was visiting West Nolan—that too a hospital—he freaked out. Glad they somehow lost our tail or we could have been in real trouble."
"Are you sure they lost us?" Jordan sounded skeptical, his street instincts still screaming caution.
"Cent Percent," Askai answered, recalling the look of pure, entitled venom on Vance's face when he spouted filth about the West. Vance would have Askai's head on a pike the day he realized Askai was the devil corrupting his East End 'angel.'
"Good. Then stay there," Jordan said flatly, the command surprising in its severity.
"What?!!" Askai asked, taken aback.
"Because the West is not safe anymore. Not that it ever was, but it is almost like the '80s now. There are massacres going down in the streets, and no one seems to know who is behind them. There is panic and chaos. Yesterday, someone pointed the finger for Zeke's murder at Qurais, and this morning all his clubs were burned down. His boys were butchered and the girls were sold as slaves to Kazan. Nobody knows again who sponsored this massacre…"
"Shit!" Askai weighed the consequences of his actions last night, the cold dread returning. Zeke's murder had clearly prompted Qurais's immediate fall, tilting the balance of power decisively in favor of Moraine. Karla and Qurais hated each other, but the bitch knew his importance.
"Nothing happened, Askai. Stay with Vance. It is the safest place right now for you."
Askai almost scoffed at Jordan's suggestion, but this gilded cage did seem like the best place to lay low for a while. It would have been, however, Jordan didn't know Vance like he did. This guy could be a bigger, more complicated trouble than Moraine Valez one day.
"What about you?" he asked, the anxiety creeping back in. "How long can you stay at Mrs. Wells's? Moraine would be out on the streets soon for our blood. He holds grudges like a dog holds onto bones. This whole Qurais episode smells of him. Leave it to Moraine to manipulate the circumstances to his favor. Would you be safe there?"
"I'll be perfectly fine, Ask," Jordan said without a thought, a little too quickly, which struck Askai as odd.
"You know I can get out of here and see you at Mrs. Wells's place. We'll go and pick up Kael, then leave this goddamned city behind. Should have done that years ago. I think this way it would be—"
"No, stay there. Mrs. Wells can pick up Kael, and we can wait out the storm here. Right now, the streets are not safe to attempt an escape. We could end up dead in cross-fire alone. Let's wait and watch. The circumstances alone should keep Moraine busy."
"Okay…" Askai conceded, a little unsure, but accepting the logic. It would just be for a couple of days anyway, until they gauged the direction of the winds.
Jordan hummed. "I'll let you know if I hear anything else. Sit tight until then!"