The photographic proof said Kit had actually gotten the burn during the few minutes Darius wasn’t watching him. It must have been when Kit was removing his makeup—but how? Why would Kit hide it?
“He’s a good liar,” James said.
Kit was a good liar. A nineteen-year-old liar with a bounty on his head, jumping at shadows he refused to explain. Yet that very refusal was sincere. Kit would be the first to admit he had secrets.
Because he trusted Darius not to pry into them. Was one of them making a mistake? Or were they both?
Darius set down his phone. “I’ve been giving him space. God knows, we’ve all got baggage. But maybe it’s time for Kit to unpack some.”
After a long moment, James retreated to his laptops. “Kit will open up when he’s ready.”
Darius didn’t argue, but he wasn’t so sure.
Kit found it strange, being back in Bishop’s house. Such a cozy little suburban bachelor pad. Kit had always met Bishop at James’s place or Darius’s, or public coffee shops, since he moved out.
Maybemoved outwas a weird way of putting it. Bishop literally held Kit captive in this house. Kit should probably think of it as escaping.
But that word didn’t feel right either. Kit couldn’t have escaped when Bishop’s presence never quite left him. The handcuffs were heavier in Kit’s memory than they ever were around his wrists. They chafed even more at his thoughts without Bishop handing him a jar of ointment.
Kit slept in the familiar guest room last night. No handcuffs this time, which meant he could touch himself as his thoughts spun between so many addictively bad ideas. His memories mixed, until Holden pressed a gun against Kit’s back, and Darius held his hand in the library. James handcuffed Kit to the stair railing, and Bishop leaned back on the limo seat and pushed Kit’s head down.
Now, Kit sat at Bishop’s kitchen table, comfy in a baggy t-shirt and his holey-ist skinny jeans. He sat in the same chair Bishop handcuffed him to. This time, Kit’s hands were free to scroll through the tablet in front of him. His assignment was reading through Bishop’s interviews from the past two weeks. He was supposed to highlight anything that stuck out to him, for any reason.
Kit appreciated having something to do, even though he had to reread each page three times. His thoughts kept wandering to James and Darius, who were out at a location nobody would tell Kit, preparing to confront… whoever wanted to kill Kit.
Which was strange. Kit only knew one man who wanted to kill him, and that man would never hire an outside assassin.
Hopefully James and Darius would find some answers.
Not too many answers.
Bishop set a plate down in front of him, bearing a toasted sandwich. “Take a break or eat while you work.”
“I’m not hungry.” Kit scrolled to the next page.
“That’s fine,” Bishop said, sitting across from Kit. He was reading something on his phone, with an empty plate in front of him.
A glance at the sunburst clock said it was one in the afternoon. Kit hadn’t realized it wasn’t morning anymore. The realization hit with a painful twist in his stomach.
Damn Bishop for being right. Kit considered suffering for pride, but his stomach growling would be even more embarrassing. He acquiesced and ate the sandwich as he read.
About ten minutes later, Bishop’s phone dinged with a call. Bishop left the room to answer it, and Kit took a break to stretch his legs and put away both their dishes. Leaning against thedishwasher, Kit contemplated his favorite part of the kitchen—the coffeemaker.
Coffee was probably a bad idea with Kit’s current nerves. But Bishop looked tired today, and it would be a shame to brew just one mug.
As he stretched up on his toes for the mugs, Kit’s phone buzzed. He set the mugs on the counter—his own favorite, the giant black and gold San Corvo Police Department mug, plus a smaller but intriguing World’s Best Dick mug. Kit was going to have to ask Bishop for the story behind that one.
The text message was from James.
Sexy:Do you miss me, babe?
Kit:sorry, new phone, who is this
Sexy:Aww, I’m gone for one day and you’ve already forgotten me :(
Sexy:I’ll just have to work extra hard to jog your memory when I get back
Kit knew exactly where this was heading. Cheeks heating, he looked around to make sure Bishop wasn’t in sight.
