“How do I look? Delicious?” I ask.
“Yeah, you look fucking nice,” he replies, and I bob my head.
“I am very nice-looking. Even better now with that tattoo on my ass.”
“It’s gonna hurt on the way home,” he says, and I grin widely.
“Oh, I can’t wait. I do love me some pain.”
Kit laughs and then pulls the door to the trailer open with a screech. “Come on, Bane. Let me get you home before Mr. Sokolov cuts me apart. I reallydon’tlike pain.”
“Oh yes, we wouldn’t want that.”
“No, we wouldn’t. I also quite like my job at the moment.”
“How did you get started working with him?” I ask as we make our way to his car. My feet hit the stones, and pain slides up my calves. But I don’t mind it. I was born for this. To feel it, to repress it, and then use it when I want it.
And I want all the pain from Georgiy.
He can give it to me anytime.
“Answered an ad on Craigslist a few years back for a random hookup, and now here I am.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, we didn’t sleep together. It was a cover.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to murder you.”
“Pfft. Not unless I murder you first,” Kit says and holds up a gun.
I waggle my eyebrows at that and clamber into the front seat, my ass aching as I sit and buckle in.
“I don’t think we need to murder each other. I think we can be friends instead, Craig.”
“Craig,” Kit snorts. “Yeah, that’s better than Kitty Kat. And sure. We can be friends. Ready to head home?” Kit asks as he turns the car on and meets my stare.
“Hell yes, I am.”
2
BANE
By the time I’m back at the Costello estate, my ass is on fire from sitting on it for so long, and I’m hungrier than a hippo. Thankfully, Agatha has food ready for me as soon as I step inside. She’s Anthony’s cook and a literal goddess. She’s been here for ages. I remember when I first tunneled my way inside this place years ago. She’s the first person I met. When I came out of the wall, she handed me a cookie and a glass of milk, and I decided to stay for a while.
A while has been a long-ass time, but I’m happy here. Content.
Something I haven’t felt since…well, ever.
I always was a bit of a nomad. Kind of had to be after…well, everything.
“Oh, you’re late, little bug,” she says, pushing a container into my hands. “I was worried about you when you didn’t show up for breakfast or lunch.”
“I was worried about me too,” I reply, taking it and peeling the top off, inhaling the scent of some kind of pasta salad. Lookshealthy. She’s always trying to sneak veggies into my meals. Says I eat too much meat.
There’s no such thing, in my opinion.
But I don’t complain about it. I’ll eat whatever she gives me. I grew up far too hungry to say anything. I used to hoard food in the walls when I was little. Still do. Kind of silly when you think about it.
