It was just supposed to be another line of morbid banter, matching Kit’s tone. But all the color drained from Kit’s face.
Chalk white, Kit stumbled back, but recovered before Darius could decide whether to support him. “No. I don’t.” Kit retreated behind the chair. His voice sounded normal. Too normal. Controlled. “Deal’s off now, I’m not in the mood.”
Part of Darius wanted to push Kit for more information, but Kit obviously wanted space. Darius clicked the safety back on his gun and stooped to slide it into his ankle holster. Not his favorite, but he wasn’t wearing a jacket today.
“You don’t need to make a deal with me,” Darius said. “I’m going to ask you a few more questions, then give Bishop a call and tell him what’s going on. He and I will neutralize the threat.”
Kit stared blankly. Then he flipped the chair around and sat on it backwards. Leaned his forearms against the top. “You were never going to kill me.”
“Smart kid.”
Kit just glared. “Then what was all this bullshit about?”
“I needed to talk to you alone, and I needed you to know how serious the threat is,” Darius said. “It was too easy to get you alone. You need to be more careful.”
“Christ,” Kit muttered. “You’re almost as melodramatic as James.”
Darius chuckled, surprising both him and Kit. He kept a smile on. “I accepted the job to prevent them from hiring anyone else. But James, Bishop, and I have an agreement. We don’t take jobs that infringe on each other’s territory.”
“I’m not Bishop’s territory.” Kit flushed. “Or James’s.”
Funny. Kit really believed that. Of course, Bishop would deny it too if Darius asked. But Darius had seen the way the man acted about the kid.
Kit rubbed his face, slumping more comfortably in the chair. “Who put out the hit?”
“I don’t know.” Darius moved away from the doorway to lean on the wall instead. Kit could run out if he wanted, now. “These things are generally anonymous.”
Kit actually rolled his eyes at that. “You don’t know why, either, I’m guessing.”
“I was hoping you would be able to help me with that,” Darius said. “Do you have any enemies? Have you gotten involved in anything dangerous over the past few years?”
“Try the past few weeks with James and Bishop.” Kit shrugged. “Maybe it’s a case of mistaken identity. Are you sure they wanted Kit Byron?”
“I’m sure. They gave me your name and Addersen’s address.”
Kit shrugged again. “Then there’s nobody I can think of. Nobody that makes sense.”
Darius waited, but Kit didn’t say anything else. Just fiddled with a hairband around his wrist.
“I’ll give you my number, and you can call me if you think of anything,” Darius said eventually. “I can drop you off wherever you want now, then call Bishop and—”
“No.” Kit straightened in the chair, determination strengthening his voice. “Don’t tell Bishop or James about this.”
Weird. Alarming. “If there’s a hit on you, James should know. He can protect you.”
“You already took the contract,” Kit said. “Do you have a deadline?”
“Not yet. We’re still negotiating terms, and they don’t know I know where you’re staying. They’ll expect me to take more time to track you down.”
Kit’s hands tightened on the back of the chair. “If you had more time, could you—I need to know who’s behind the hit, before we tell James or Bishop.” His head ducked, hair spilling over his face. “I need to control this.”
Darius peeled off the wall and slowly walked closer. Kit stared sideways, as if he didn’t see Darius at all. Darius crouched, and only when he touched Kit’s cheek did Kit jerk and look at him.
Still too pale, but determined.
Darius should agree to Kit’s demands, then go behind Kit’s back and tell Bishop and James anyway. Darius had no obligation to this kid, and far too many unanswered questions.
“Okay,” Darius said instead, and he meant it, with a soaring, thrilling dread.
