Page 22 of Never Forget

The silence lasts for all of thirty seconds before we hit the main road and conversation erupts as we drive away from the flashing lights of the evacuated hotel. Naz pulls his hand back into his own lap, and I turn my attention to the front of the car.

“Do we know what happened?” I ask Cory.

He keeps his eyes on the road and answers in a clipped tone. “Bomb threat.”

The vehicle goes quiet again.

“An actual bomb?” Luc Martín, Jesse’s NFL boyfriend, exclaims.

“We don’t know yet,” Cory answers, his jaw tightening.

“The threat came in through hotel security. Someone called it in, and while they were searching, staff located a suspicious package on the penthouse floor,” Tad adds.

“The penthouse?” I repeat, unable to disguise the anger in my tone.

“It was addressed to the band,” Cory says flatly.

No one says anything for a long, drawn-out moment. The only sound is the hum of the tires against asphalt as Cory drives up a ramp leading to the main highway and away from the city.

Naz finally speaks.

“Do we know what was in it? Was it actually a bomb or just a scare tactic?”

Cory shakes his head.

“We don’t know yet,” Tad answers for him. “Our focus was getting you all out first and asking questions second. The bomb squad took over before the hotel was even fully evacuated, and we’re still waiting to hear more.”

The SUV falls silent again. Behind us, the headlights of the second vehicle with the rest of our group follow through the darkness.

“We’re safe. For now,” I say to no one in particular.

Naz is staring out the window, his careful mask firmly in place. Pretending he’s fine. Pretending none of this got to him.

Pretending he isn’t gripping the edge of the seat hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

I know better, though.

Slowly, I reach across and thread my fingers through his again. When he snaps his head to the side, presumably to give me a warning scowl or tell me to stop, I’m looking straight ahead. Pretending I’m not giving him what I know he needs in this moment.

An hour later, after circling the outskirts of the city until Blake called and gave Cory new instructions, we’re sitting in a conference room at a second hotel. The adrenaline of the night has burned away, and everyone is exhausted.

Jesse is slouched in a chair beside Luc, rubbing his eyes every few minutes. Ari is wrapped in an oversized sweater, presumably Will’s. Will looks calm until you notice he’s been cracking his knuckles nonstop for the last twenty minutes. And Blake hasn’t stopped pacing since they brought us back here.

My eyes drift to Naz, sitting across the large table from me.

I’m still reeling from the panic I felt back at the hotel, when I didn’t know what was happening or where he was. He’s only six feet away, but it isn’t close enough. I’d rather be back in the SUV where I could reach out and touch him, even if he pretends it isn’t happening.

A uniformed officer stands at the front of the room, speaking in low voices with Cory and two men who introduced themselves as federal agents. We’ve all been waiting on pins and needles for any information since they got here. Cory ended up as our designated spokesperson, since he was the one hotel security initially alerted and he actually saw the package and called for the evacuation.

A detective moves to the front of the room and clears his throat, not having to wait long before everyone’s attention settles on him.

“We have some preliminary findings from the bomb squad,” he begins. “And unfortunately, it seems this was no hoax. The device recovered from the hotel was, in fact, a legitimate explosive.”

The room falls silent and still. Even Jesse stops fidgeting.

“The good news,” the detective continues, “is that the device appears to be homemade and assembled incorrectly. Based on what we’ve seen so far, one of the triggering components was either missing or failed.”

“Meaning whoever built it might not have known what they were doing?” Cory asks, still standing near the front of the room.