Just in case the threat wasn’t limited to Kit.
“I think I want a conversation with him,” Bishop gritted out in reply. “I’m almost at my place. Are you meeting James?”
Darius slid another gun into his other side holster, then switched apps on his phone. “No. Because Kit isn’t at this house party anymore.”
“What?” Bishop demanded.
“I’ll call you back.” Darius grabbed his keys and headed for the door.
He kept half his attention on his surroundings, the other half on the blinking icons on his phone screen. The bracelet tracker moved steadily, following the speed limit. Stopping at stop signs, slowing with occasional traffic.
The apartment complex was mostly empty. His neighbors weren’t an adventurous, late-night crowd. Darius still waited until he was safely in his car, where nobody could overhear him, to call Bishop back—this time, adding James to the call as well.
“Don’t bother with the house,” Darius said without preamble. He pulled out of his parking spot. “Kit’s in a vehicle, moving north along Cypress.”
There was a pause, before James said, “Are you tracking my boyfriend?”
“I’m trackingmyboyfriend,” Darius said easily—only realizing his mistake when it was too late.
James must be really worried. He didn’t pick up on that for an entire two seconds. “Boyfriend?” James teased, though his tension still vibrated across the phone. “I’m going to tell Kit you said that.”
Bishop interrupted. “Tell Kit whatever you want, once wefind him. Darius, where is he now?”
Darius ran a quick calculation. “Turning off Cypress, west on Gearing. Bishop, you’re closest. James, cameras.”
“Got it,” James said, and Darius had to shove down his worry again. James was too freaked out by Kit’s disappearance to chafe at Darius giving him orders.
“I’m leaving now,” Bishop said. “Darius, can you share your screen?”
Darius did so with a few quick movements. The call fell silent, and Darius wished James would crack a few jokes. Say something shockingly inappropriate.
Anything to make shoving the fear back easier.
When Bishop pulled into the parking lot, only fourteen minutes had passed since he noticed the failed tracker.
The nearest street lamp flickered every ten seconds, spilling shadows across this end of the parking lot. Plenty of light blazed from the massive 24-hour pharmacy that ruled the shopping center, but the shadows still seemed stronger.
A handful of other cars huddled close to the pharmacy. Out in the shadows, there were only two. Bishop’s car, and his target’s.
Bishop exhaled and closed his car door. His target waited a row away, a glossy dark sedan straddling two different parking spaces.
“I have eyes on you,” James said into Bishop’s earbud. “Pretty public spot for a shootout.”
“You should wait for backup,” Darius added.
If Bishop thought he was about to be in a pharmacy parking lot shootout, he’d listen to Darius. But Bishop’s stomach sank at the movement behind the sedan’s windows. There were people inside—too many people.
“I don’t need backup,” Bishop said as four scantily clad young women poured from the sedan.
The driver was sober and this close to being done with this shit. She attempted to corral her drunk friends towards the pharmacy—but she was waylaid by the blonde in a glittery miniskirt. Glitter Skirt flung her arms around the driver’s neck and planted a kiss on her cheek.
Bishop swore under his breath.
Around Glitter Skirt’s wrist was a black and rainbow bracelet. Just like Darius described.
“Well, fuck,” James said, watching over the CCTV.
“Situation?” Darius asked.
