16
Jonah
“What could you possibly have against drive-ins?” Cas picked through the tub of popcorn sitting between them, searching out the pieces with the most butter, no doubt.Roman Holidayplayed on the screen three rows of cars ahead of them. The speaker on Jonah’s side kept cutting in and out with static, and the breeze that blew into the car was as hot as car exhaust.
Jonah scanned the rearview and side mirrors for the fiftieth time. “Besides the fact that we’re sitting ducks?”
“We’re in a public venue. Look how many people are around us.” To the left of them was a Cabriolet with the top down, the young couple inside leaning against each other. To the right was an F-150 that had been backed into the space. The tailgate was down, and a handful of highschoolers snuck sips from a flask they passed around. Jonah’s Honda Civic was the outlier, as was the fact that he and Cas were still sitting inside it.
“JFK, Franz Ferdinand, John Lennon. Abraham Lincoln,” Jonah ticked off.
Cas waved a hand. “Allwaymore famous than me. For now.” He flashed Jonah a grin. “Question is…have you dropped someone in a crowded venue before?”
“A long time ago.” Jonah couldn’t even remember what state it’d been in or who the client had been, only that he’d done it. “Anyway, I’m just saying it can be done. And with the number on your head, it might be worth it.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re here to run interference.” Cas shrugged dismissively, but Jonah caught a trace of fear dart through his eyes before he pointed at the screen. “This is one of the best parts.”
Jonah didn’t even know what the movie was about. He’d been staring at the screen without really seeing it, trying to focus but unable to get rid of the uneasy feeling he’d woken up with. He wasn’t used to it lingering so long. For the past five years, the most he had to consider was his next meal, his next kill, his next fuck. No other responsibilities beyond that.
Cas poked him. “How about you put your arm around me, and we can pretend like we’re on akillerdate.”
“Jesus, Cas.” Jonah groaned to hide a smile.
“Is that for the bad pun or for the suggestion that you put your arm around me?” Cas lowered his chin and looked up at Jonah from beneath his lashes, so effectively coy it should’ve been illegal for the things it did to Jonah. Cas definitely had an unfair advantage in that regard.
“I’ll let you guess,” Jonah said, then draped an arm around Cas’s shoulders, though the console between them made it awkward.
Cas leaned his head against Jonah’s bicep, and Jonah looked down at the top of his head. The pale flesh where Cas’s dark strands parted struck him as vulnerable somehow, and the prickle of discomfort took hold of him again. Cas deserved better than this. Better than leaning against a hitman in a fucking drive-in waiting on an informant. He wondered if others in his line of work felt that way. Madigan? He could just see the fucker’s face if he brought something like that up.
“We could get out,” Cas suggested. “Sit on the hood?”
“Once it gets dark.”
“If you need me to distract you until then, just let me know.” Cas nuzzled his cheek along Jonah’s bicep, and Jonah’s body reacted immediately, skin heating, pulse picking up.
It was crazy how quickly Cas could get him going, how attuned to his touch he’d become inside a week. And Cas knew it, too. The past couple of days had been nothing but distractions—mostly in the bed, or the shower, on the couch—while they laid low waiting for this fucking meeting and trying to cobble together a plan. Earlier, Jonah had bent Cas over the kitchen table, spread his cheeks, and lapped at his hole until the dishes rattled and Cas was sobbing for relief. When Jonah had finally slid his fingers inside him and fisted his cock, Cas had come immediately. Then he pushed Jonah into one of the chairs, climbed into his lap, and unzipped his pants, kissing and stroking him while he whispered things Jonah only half heard until he gripped the tops of Cas’s thighs hard enough to bruise as he came.
Jonah tried to rationalize it. He knew how this shit worked. High-stakes situations combined with testosterone and loneliness—maybe on both of their parts. It made them combustible. A look, a touch. That was all it took. That kind of fire rarely meant forever, though, and Cas had so much ahead of him if he wanted it.
But Jonah hadn’t gotten any better at resisting temptation and couldn’t seem to stop himself from provoking it, either.
“Did you ever love Madigan?” Cas peered up at him, eyes navy in the soft haze of twilight.
“That came out of nowhere.”
“You two were together for forever.”
Jonah eased back a couple of inches. “We weren’t together.”
“Okay, fucking. You were fucking for forever.” Cas twisted a strand of hair. “I saw the two of you once.”
“You did?” Jonah frowned. Because of how open his apartment was, he’d almost always gone to Madigan’s.
Cas nodded. “Up against the fridge. You’d both been out somewhere. Madigan was hammered. Maybe you, too. I umm”—Cas pinched his lower lip, something he’d always done when he felt guilty for something. Jonah had forgotten that gesture, too—“fell asleep in your bed, so I think you thought I was gone, but I wasn’t.”
Jonah vaguely remembered something with Madigan in the kitchen. He’d been hammered, too. A rare occasion when the two of them had worked together on a job. They’d celebrated at Wired afterwards. He’d avoided tequila for months after that.
“I climbed down and hauled ass out of there when you went to shower. God, that would’ve been fucking awkward.”
