“Don’t worry about it.” Kit waved the question off. “The point is, I know I’m asking for a lot. Especially from Bishop. But I’m asking anyway.”
Darius would trust Kit. James would cave to make Kit happy. Bishop was the one Kit was unsure about winning over. For one thing, Holden was the solution to Bishop’s current case. The murderer of three shitty college boys. Even more than that, Kit had always been unsure about Bishop’s intentions.
At least, until five minutes ago, when Bishop kissed him.
“The first time we met, you asked if I wanted to die,” Kit said softly. “Do you remember how I answered?”
“You said you didn’t want anything,” Bishop answered, just as quietly.
Kit inhaled. Dirt, bleach, the echoes of death. That moment was a bright inflection point in the middle of a massacre—and this was the result. “I want a lot of things now. Holden is one of them.”
When Bishop broke his gaze, Kit knew he had won.
“I’m talking to Holden before I agree to anything,” Bishop said. “If he makes one wrong move, I’m putting a bullet in his skull.”
“That’s fine,” Kit said, finally stepping away from the basement. “He shouldn’t be able to move, since I chained him to the bed.”
Darius squeezed Kit’s shoulder, a brief, steadying pressure, before opening the door. “Maybe James should stay upstairs.”
“Fat fucking chance,” James snapped. But he stopped to press a kiss to Kit’s forehead before following Darius down.
Kit lingered, unsure what to say to Bishop but wanting to say something. But Bishop waved him forward, and Kit carefully descended the rickety stairs.
He wanted a bath. A nap. Fucking breakfast. He needed to make sure his boyfriends didn’t kill each other first.
Holden was right where Kit left him. Cuffed wrist and ankle, his long, muscular form stretched across the bed. His shirt rode up his waist where Kit had disturbed it. Holden lay quietly, his face a cold mask staring up at James and Darius—until Kit crossed into his line of sight.
“Darling,” Holden said, his face lighting up.
“Don’t talk to him,” James ordered.
Holden fell quiet but didn’t take his eyes off Kit.
“I’ve said my piece already.” Kit leaned against the wall where he could watch everyone. “You have to talk to them now, Holden.”
“That’s fine, angel.” Holden’s smile fell away as he turned to the other men. “What am I negotiating for?”
Darius began inspecting the room. Bishop nudged James, and after some wordless communication, James retreated to join Kit against the wall. He pulled Kit under his arm, surrounding him in reassuring warmth. Kit slumped into the embrace as Bishop began the interrogation.
“I had time to look into you as James led the search,” Bishop started. “Your alibis are clever, but you killed Victor Wang, Timothy Wellington, and Marco Fernandez, didn’t you?
“I did,” Holden said calmly.
“Why?” Bishop asked, with equal calm.
“To get your attention.” Holden shrugged awkwardly in the cuffs. “I really wanted to kill Ed, and I was annoyed that you killed him first. That’s also why I started following Kit, because I saw him with you.” Holden’s gaze flicked towards Kit. He didn’t appear intimidated, despite being tied to a bed surrounded by armed men. “I was surprised you took so long to find me. Maybe you got distracted, same as me.”
Bishop paused before his next question. “Did you take Kit to get back at me?”
“I stopped caring about you ages ago,” Holden answered seriously. “I took Kit because I’m in love with him, and I have bad coping mechanisms.”
“Did you plan to kill him?” Bishop asked.
Chains rattled as Holden shifted. “Yes.”
Bishop took his time before the next question too. “What changed your mind?”
James stroked Kit’s hair. Kit hadn’t noticed himself tensing up until he relaxed under the soothing touch.
