Peter and Michael helped Nick secure Kenneth to one of the chairs in the apartment with some spare bedsheets. “All right, kids. We’ve got eight hours until anyone’s looking for us tomorrow morning. There’s nine of us. An hour watch each, and one of us gets a pass tonight. Hopefully, big guy won’t wake up,” Nick said. “You take the pass, boss,” Anthony said. “I’m still keyed up—I’ll take the first watch.” “If Kenneth comes around, wake me up. We can always hope he’s calmed down, but I doubt it.” “Will do.” Nick’s head was killing him, and he was exhausted. He remembered reading somewhere that if one had a concussion, one shouldn’t sleep—he really hoped he didn’t have one, because he passed out as soon as he hit the bed. The next thing he knew, it was light out, and the door to their apartment flew open. A quick check showed all of his men were in their beds, except for Kenneth, who was still strapped to the chair.
