Darius half expected to wait another three days. But the client was still online.
jdn267frev3:No. You can leave the photos at a drop-off location.
All right, that was also weird. Darius almost felt sorry for the client. But it would certainly make it easier to grab whoever arrived at the drop-off.
65e487tfrd:That should work. Let me get back to you tomorrow.
jdn267frev3:Thanks. Sorry for the delay. I don’t usually do this sort of thing.
65e487tfrd:No worries. I get more first timers than you’d think. I’ll take care of this for you, and you’ll be able to get on with business as usual.
jdn267frev3:Thanks, man. You’re the best. Is there Yelp for assassins? I’ll leave you five stars.
Confirmed—this client was an idiot.
Hopefully a soon-to-be dead idiot.
“Whose house is this, anyway?” Kit asked, trying to conceal his nerves as Darius unlocked the door. They were pretty far out from the city, with few neighbors in eyesight. Kit had mistaken the house for a beat-up barn before they pulled up in the gravel driveway.
James lingered by the car, rolling his eyes through a polite business call.
“Doesn’t matter,” Darius said, ushering Kit inside. He carried a large plastic bag in one hand, and the other briefly lit sparks with a touch to Kit’s shoulder. “It’s private, and it’s not tied to any of us.”
He flipped a switch, and Kit was surprised the electricity worked, illuminating a shabby kitchen. There was a big empty space between the counters where a refrigerator used to be. The stovetop looked untrustworthy. The wooden table looked sturdy enough, if dusty. Darius dumped the plastic bag on the table, then circled the room adjusting the blackout curtains.
Kit poked the tile counter, which wasn’t as dusty as he expected, and leaned back on it. “Great. Make sure you close the closed curtains better.”
Darius just flashed a grin over his shoulder.
Once again, he looked like an investment broker or a CFO or a software engineer manager person. Someone professional andgrownup who shouldn’t be hanging out with nineteen-year-old hot messes like Kit. Or putting bullets in people’s brains.
Today’s button-up shirt was a warm lavender, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as always. Darius had to be aware of how hot his forearms were. Kit didn’t even try to look away. And those thick wrists—how was tugging a curtain so sexy?
When did Kit’s libido get dialed up so high? Like now that he’d kissed Darius, he couldn’t get his thoughts under control.
“What are you thinking about?” Darius asked, cocking his head.
Kit could make up something normal. Or he could just ask… “How do you manage to sneak up on people? You’re so hot, don’t people notice you?”
Darius just grinned, and James scoffed from the doorway. “Easy. He just asks me to hang out in the same room, and nobody notices him.”
“Interesting idea,” Darius said. “But you’re in the room now, and your own boyfriend’s still flirting with me.”
“If I don’t let him fuck around, how can he know how good I am in comparison?” James dropped a kiss on Kit’s head and headed for the nearest window—repeating Darius’s check of the curtains and doors.
Kit hoped the heat in his face wasn’t—nope, by the way Darius was smirking, Kit’s flush was definitely obvious.
This was the first time the three of them had been together since that time in Darius’s apartment. When Kit kissed Darius, then fucked James in Darius’s bed. Kit had worried about the vibe, but he kind of liked this. James was as thrilling as ever, and Darius had this stabilizing presence. Instead of interrupting, he provided balance.
Besides, flirting with two extremely attractive men was a welcome distraction from the day’s task.
“Are you sure this guy is going to be satisfied with photographs?” Kit asked. “I’ve never ordered a hit on anyone before, but that seems weird to me.”
“You’re right,” Darius said, moving to the table. “There are situations where photos work—but you don’t trust the hired gun to provide his own proof with them.” He started pulling supplies from the plastic bag. Face paint and scar wax and sponges. A lot more than Kit expected.
“The fakes will be obvious as soon as someone properly analyzes them,” James added. He jumped up on the counter, then pulled Kit closer, between his spread thighs. The edge of the counter dug into Kit’s back while James started playing with his hair.
Darius watched them, not even trying to be subtle. His dark gaze strayed to James’s fingers brushing Kit’s sensitive neck. “Our goal isn’t perfection. They just need to look good enough at first glance when the contact picks them up.”
