So, Bishop let Kit disappear upstairs, while he faced James.
“Are you going to try and stop me?” James grinned. “I know you want him, but you had your chance.”
Bishop looked James up and down, contemplating. There was James’s typical cocky grin. His hair was barely less disheveled than Kit’s, and the t-shirt stretched over his shoulders was wrinkled. Bishop could easily imagine thin fingers fisting in the fabric.
James blew Bishop once, after a job. Two years ago, Bishop helped James track down a drug runner whose name came up in James’s investigation. The man’s business partner almost caught them, and relief spiked their adrenaline to euphoric heights. Bishop knew exactly how intense, how demanding James could be. Biting kisses. The hunger in his eyes as he sank to his knees.
Arrogant. Driven. So driven Bishop worried sometimes about how far James’s revenge would take him. That was why Bishop stayed in touch, at first, before their working relationship deepened into a jagged-edged friendship. He wanted to keep an eye on James, in case James went too far.
But James had principles. James was still focused. He’d never become complacent, like Bishop once had.
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Bishop said. “I’m not going to stop you. I just want to make sure he’s going to be all right. I feel responsible for involving him in our bullshit.”
James’s shoulders relaxed with Bishop’s acquiescence. As if he’d needed Bishop’s permission. “I’m not going to hurt him. Unless he asks for it.”
“I don’t want to know,” Bishop said, even though part of him really, really wanted to know. He wanted to know exactly what James did to Kit in that limo while he waited with Carla. It was all Bishop could do to keep himself from imagining Kit’s pretty face flushed in ecstasy. Those big green eyes glassy with pleasure.
Just moments ago, the rims of Kit’s eyes were a little red. His lips were redder than usual too. Just from kissing, or had he blown James?
There was no question his silky dark hair was all tangled from James’s fingers.
James wasn’t as subtle and conniving as Bishop. He wouldn’t intend to hurt Kit—but he might not always realize the full extent of his advantage over Kit. Was Kit making the same bargain he had tried to make with Bishop? Trading his body for the veneer of security?
Bishop didn’t have the right to interfere. All he said was, “Make sure you give him his own room.”
“He’s not going to be sleeping in his own room,” James said with a dangerous smirk.
Bishop tried to keep himself from imagining more. “I don’t care where he sleeps. Just give him his own space, in case he needs to hide. He needs that.”
James lost his arrogant smirk. He said quietly, “I know. I’ll give him his own damn apartment if he’ll take it.” After a moment of solemnity, James brightened into a grin again. “Are we still on for dinner next month?”
He said that just as Kit came back downstairs, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Bishop’s heart clenched a little, realizing all Kit appeared to own was in that bag.
Bishop still hadn’t found out anything from the background check. And he still felt it was wrong to ask Kit himself. As if the fragile bird would break if Bishop asked the wrong question.
“We’re on for dinner,” Bishop said, and waved them out of his house.
Kit braced himself for—he wasn’t sure what, really, as Carla drove them back. He expected more teasing, more kissing. But James settled into the limo and said he needed to get some work done. The whole ride home, he did just that. Tapping away at his phone, while Kit’s tension slowly eased.
He actually dozed off, and when he woke, they were stopped in a quiet neighborhood. Evening deepened the sky, and trees shrouded the drive. Kit peeled his cheek from the leather seat and straightened up.
“How long have we been here?” he asked, out of sorts but strangely relaxed.
“You looked cute sleeping,” James answered, which meant it had been a while. He ruffled Kit’s hair, then slid out of the limo. “Come on in, you can pick a room.”
James’s house was set far back from any roads, surrounded by circles of walls, trees, and xeriscaping. The house itself was all cream stucco and red tiles, with blue and green mosaics surrounding every wide window. Inside was simple. Dark floors and cavernous ceilings.
“Do you live here alone?” Kit asked, looking around. It was a big place, and even James’s personality couldn’t fully fill it.
“Not anymore,” James said with a wink, and hooked a hand around Kit’s waist. He drew Kit to him gently, and just as gently, he pressed a kiss to Kit’s upturned lips.
Kit’s lungs were tight by the time James pulled away. Hunger glittered in James’s eyes, but he didn’t do anything else. Just continued leading Kit into the huge, soulless mansion. He wasn’t kidding about letting Kit pick a room, giving Kit a choice of three fully furnished bedrooms. Kit picked the one with a view of the front drive, old instincts kicking in.
Then James left him alone to settle in.
Kit dumped his messenger bag on the bed and curled into the window seat. He watched the road as the sun set and his mind emptied out.
Alone. But somehow, the space and consideration wrapped warm around him.
