I decide to keep that detail to myself.
In the meantime, Anders and Hughes are beside themselves.
“Mr. Hughes?”Anders says, smacking his friend’s shoulder. “I’m gonna start calling you that.”
Hughes shakes his head. “Please don’t. That’s what Liam calls me in bed.” He turns to me. “You can call me Hopper.”
“Uh…okay.” I grimace. “And, to reiterate, I don’t think Rami smells. At all.”
Anders muffles a laugh. “Oh, I see.”
Omar shifts beside me. “What do you see, love?”
Anders sends me a mocking gesture. “He thinks our son is hot, but he also has a will to live.” He folds forward again, feline as he picks up the thin listening device disc and rolls it across his fingers, like that trick you do with quarters. “Does my son return the sentiment?”
Focus, Valentine.The real issue is I don’t want these serial killers finding out that I fucked their son’s mouth like I owned it, then licked the cum off his belly like I owned that too.
Hopper gently knocks his head against mine. “Well?”
I clear my throat and unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth as I scramble to find the words. Knowing they’ll smell a lie, I go for a half-truth.
“He, uh…made a pass at me.” I look around, making sure they see me. “But I told him to find a new barber.”
I don’t like what Anders’ face is doing. His expression is morphing between confusion and amusement, and neither bodes well if my goal is to remain unflayed.
“Yourejected Rami?”
There’s surprise in his tone, as though he’s never considered the possibility.
“I… It’s not that he’s undesirable. I just knew it’d be a bad idea. Nothing against Rami. At all.”
“So youdofind him attractive,” Omar muses, removing his hand from the back of my neck.
I suck in a relieved breath. Then again, Hopper is still leaning on my shoulder.
“Of course. He’s a good-looking guy.” Spit finally returns to my mouth, and I swallow. “And his work with various charities is admirable.”
Sure, Rami’s a bit of a dumbass in real-world situations, but I’m not about to tell his fathers—and one terrifying uncle—that.
“But his spy work is woeful,” Hopper notes, his voice rough.
“Hey,” Anders says, throwing his friend the finger. “That’s my son you’re talking about.”
Hopper checks in with Omar. “I’m not wrong, am I?”
“No, Hop. You know what you’re talking about. People never know you’re there unless you want them to know you’re there.”
I turn to Hopper. “I promise I didn’t know you were here until you spoke.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that,” he says, patting my hair.
I swear to God, I’m going to shit my pants.
Omar clears his throat. “Coming back to the point, do you have other equipment in Everett’s shop?”
I stare at my boots and shake my head.I’ll sneak in tonight and remove it.
Omar’s hand goes back to my neck, and with the lightest pressure, he forces me to look up at him.
