Maybe Kit should seduce his boyfriends at halftime after all. Aggravating houseguest be damned.
Bishop entered bearing pizza, garlic bread, and ulterior motives. It seemed absurd that his stomach would grumble with hunger, as if his body should remain focused on his goals. But even Bishop’s concentration wasn’t immune to a twenty-minute car ride of delicious cheesy garlic smells.
Running through small talk with James, Bishop brought the food into the kitchen. He didn’t realize he was looking for Kit until James said, “He’s eating Darius’s face right now.”
When Bishop moved to the dining table, in full view of the TV room, Kit was just cuddling under Darius’s arm. A tuft of dark hair barely peeped above Darius’s shoulder. The TV was on but muted, a weather anchor gesturing at her map and arrows.
“Hey,” Bishop said, just like normal.
Darius waved without turning. “Hey.”
“Here to join the snuggle party?” Kit asked, rubbing his neck.
“You bet,” Bishop replied.
Kit stretched out like a sleepy cat. His jeans were baggy for once, thin knees visible through the gaping holes. “I should divide up the garlic bread. So everyone gets their fair share.”
“Fair share my ass,” Darius said, standing up as Kit darted into the kitchen. “You’re just claiming the best pieces for yourself.”
“Seems fair to me,” James chimed in.
Something thudded against the counter. Dividing the garlic bread sounded an awful lot like shamelessly making out.
“Wash your hands,” Darius called back to his friend and boyfriend.
For a moment, Bishop and Darius were alone in the dining room. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to.
Kit was obviously hiding something. His eyes were too evasive, his invitation to snuggle too brash. Hiding something wasn’t new, of course. But Kit’s secrets were clearly top of mind right now.
Suspicion pinged a paranoid alarm, that Kit might know why Bishop was here. That didn’t make sense. Kit would have no way to know Bishop ran his DNA.
Unless Darius told him. Hard to unravel that from small talk. Darius was good at keeping himself in check. Either way,Bishop’s plan remained the same. Tonight, he and Kit would have an honest conversation.
“Let me grab you a beer,” Darius said, and ducked into the kitchen.
Bishop leaned against the table, idly watching the silent TV, which was now covering a local pet adoption event. Controlling the circumstances was key for any interrogation. Bishop had chosen this time and place—this audience—on purpose. Kit couldn’t avoid Bishop’s questions while surrounded by his lovers. Bishop couldn’t force him to answer, but just asking questions meant something. Mysteries were harder to ignore once brought to light.
Having the others around also meant Kit would have backup. Kit would feel more secure knowing James was fully willing to punch Bishop in the face.
Darius returned, handing Bishop a beer. James and Kit trooped out with paper plates, lips redder than before they disappeared into the kitchen. Clearly nobody planned to do dishes tonight.
“Is Holden coming?” Bishop asked, turning away from the TV. He took a cold swig.
“He’ll be late,” James said. “We were going to wait on the game until he gets here, unless you’re dying to start.”
That was weird. When the hell did James and Holden start getting along?
“Fine by me.” Bishop weighed his options. He could start asking questions without Holden, but the interruption would be disruptive. Better to wait until Holden—
James’s eyes suddenly widened. Staring past Bishop’s shoulder, he breathed, “Shit.”
Kit’s garlic bread fell from his hands to his plate.
“What’s wrong?” Bishop asked, turning.
A chyron flashed across the silent TV. Bold white letters on a red banner declared PRISON BREAK IN SAN CORVO.
On half the screen, a news anchor made well-rehearsed, grim yet attractive faces. The other half of the screen filled with an overlay of two mugshots. Both were labeled, but Bishop didn’t need the names to recognize the first man.
