“Why?” Kit fidgeted with his long sleeves. He didn’t have anything important on his phone, but that didn’t change how weird it was. How offended and scared he should be by the violation of privacy.
“A couple reasons,” James said. “I needed to clear your location records for the past month, in case anyone looks into you.”
Kit hadn’t even thought of that. Of course. His DNA was all over a mass murder scene now. At least he wasn’t alone—a lot of people had DNA at Uncle Ed’s place.
James continued. “I also sent all your conversations with Ed Addersen and his associates to Bishop.”
Revulsion twisted through Kit, bringing up the files he had refused to look at. “You thought I might have been involved with that?”
“Bishop asked me to check.”
“Would you have killed me if I was involved?” Kit asked.
“Bishop’s pretty intense about his whole justice thing,” James said. “No idea what he would have done. But don’t worry—you’re too young and cute to die. I would have just kidnapped you back from him earlier, for your own protection.”
The limousine stopped at a red light, and Kit contemplated the door as his pulse hammered in his throat. Maybe this was a good time to dive from the limo.
James’s foot nudged forward, until his nice leather shoe rubbed the inside of Kit’s beat-up lime converse. Even muffled through his shoe, the friction tingled through the arch of Kit’s foot.
He stayed put, chained in place by his own terrible instincts.
James continued, ticking off unhinged privacy violations on his fingers. “Anyway, then I ran a keyword search on your other messages, checking for criminals, cops, or ex-boyfriends I needed to eliminate.” He paused to toss a wink at Kit. “I checked for other messaging apps. Then I installed a program of mine that will keep you from getting hacked by anyone else with impure intentions.” James dropped his hands to his knees, smirking. “Finally, I loaded $1,000 onto your app store balance.”
Kit stared. “You did what?”
“Check if you don’t believe me.”
Obviously, James was joking. He may as well have said gullible was written on the ceiling. But Kit found himself sliding his phone from his pocket anyway, forced to wiggle slightly on the seat to get it out of his tight jeans. “You’re fucking with me,” Kit said as he swiped to the right app.
“I’m absolutely fucking with you,” James said. “But this part’s true.”
It was. Kit’s app store balance should have been $8.43. Now it was $1,008.43.
Kit’s hand shook slightly around the phone. Pieces fit together, strange and familiar, in a shape that made sense.
Eventually, Kit asked, “What do you want in exchange?”
He was already prepared to sell himself this week anyway.
The space between them diminished as James leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I want a lot of things, but that’s unrelated. The money is compensation for invading your privacy. If you agree to give me your banking information, I’ll give you a lot more, because Bishop and I have terribly inconvenienced you. Besides.”
James’s dark eyes fixed straight into Kit’s battered soul. Like he was looking for something. Like he had found it. His palm slid hot over Kit’s knee.
“I don’t need money to get what I want from you, do I?”
6
“At least buy me lunch first, asshole.”
James was close enough to count Kit’s dark eyelashes. Every speck of shadow in his forest-green eyes. The hitch in Kit’s breath was captivating. James’s slightest word provoked such a strong reaction in the boy, which would be entrancing enough.
Kit leaned back against the leather seat, lifting his chin. “At least buy me lunch first, asshole.”
The reply hammered home the final nail of James’s obsession.
Kit was perfect. Utterly perfect. James had wanted Kit from the moment he saw him, just because Kit looked so pretty in the middle of a bloodbath. But the way Kit could fall apart, stunned, then draw himself together again—that doll-like composure hiding fear and arousal—
James had to have him. But he could be patient. Stalk his prey.
