Still smiling, James said, “Two tables over to your left, there’s a man in a purple and red tie. Look over subtly, or not at all.”
Kit turned to scan across the entire room, not making eye contact with anyone. His gaze swept over the man Jamesmentioned. Middle-aged, silver hair. A purple and red striped tie. Completely ordinary.
“What about him?” Kit asked, straightening in his seat.
James dug his fork into his deconstructed burger. His foot slid against Kit’s under the table, the simple touch sending tingly shockwaves of arousal through Kit. The fluttery, flirty feeling mixed disconcertingly with James’s next words:
“I’m going to kill him today.”
7
“This is just for the cameras.”
Kit didn’t think for a second that James was joking. “What the fuck?”
James’s eyes curved in a smile. “Are you going to try to stop me?”
God. Fucking. Damn it.
The gold and white walls of the fancy restaurant wavered around Kit. Keeping quiet about a crime that had already happened was one thing. Turning Bishop in wouldn’t have brought Uncle Ed or his gang back to life.
Mr. Red and Purple Tie was still alive.
But Bishop had warned Kit about James’s scary lawyers, and James was already throwing around so much money it was basically a superpower, just to impress—or fuck with—Kit. How many more resources could James muster to keep himself out of prison? James was a murderer, anyway. He didn’t even need money to get rid of Kit, if Kit got in his way.
Plenty of reasons to be afraid. Kit told himself that was why he was staying quiet. Cowardice.
Not curiosity.
James’s smile was unsettlingly affectionate. “Finish your salad, pretty boy.”
Kit rolled his eyes but obeyed. He half-expected James to pull a gun out at any moment, but preparing to kill someone was quieter than that. As they finished splitting what appeared to be a pile of crystallized air and sugar, like a miniature beehive of cotton candy, James pulled out his phone and sent a text message.
A minute later, Mr. Red and Purple Tie excused himself and headed out through the back of the restaurant.
Five minutes later, James paid their bill, then led Kit in the same direction. His warm, strong hand completely engulfed Kit’s.
“Where are we going?” Kit asked nervously.
James leaned closer as they passed a waitress. Said in Kit’s ear, just loudly enough that the waitress surely overheard: “We’re going to the bathroom. I need some privacy for what I want to do to you.”
Kit’s ear heated. He couldn’t tell if James was telling the truth, establishing an alibi, or both.
Kit couldn’t tell which answer he preferred, either.
Two doors took them past the bustling kitchen into a hallway so quiet that their footsteps echoed. To the left was a windowed door to the kitchen. To the right were a string of storage closets and two restrooms. At the end of the hall was a door beneath an emergency exit sign.
Kit couldn’t help glancing at the cameras glittering at the corners of the ceiling.
A phone buzzed loud enough to make Kit jump. James paused in the middle of the hallway and pulled out his phone. “Hi, Bishop. How’s your Monday going?”
Kit’s pulse sped as James turned away from the cameras, towards Kit. Bishop’s reply was inaudible.
“Don’t worry, he’s with me,” James said cheerfully. “We’re on a date.”
There was a long silence, in which Kit’s face heated and James’s smile deepened.
“Why are you so weird about him?” James asked. “Fine, I’ll put him on. Here, babe. Tell Bishop you’re alive.”
