Holden rose from the couch, not fast but not slow. His cock strained for attention; he ignored it. As comfortable as he felt, he wasn’t stupid. No sudden movements, and his hands needed to stay visible. He sidled behind James’s desk—a quick glance at the computer showed only a darkened screen, pity—then to the heavy wooden cabinet.
The top drawer was unlocked. Inside were a bottle of lube, a red butt plug, and a handgun.
Holden’s hand froze on the drawer handle. This was the test.
James’s touch lightened on Kit, ready to react. Would Holden take the gun? Would he take the ammunition? Would he hesitate just a moment too long?
James catalogued every small expression across Holden’s face—because there were expressions now. Surprise, temptation, resolve. A strange beat of happiness. James hadbeen testing Holden all month, but only with Kit in the room could he read the results.
Only with Kit did Holden lose control.
Holden reached into the drawer—and set the plug on the desk. Then the lube.
Kit swallowed beneath James’s palm.
“Are you sure about fucking him on your desk?” Holden asked, closing the drawer. “You’ll knock over your computers.”
Empty-handed, Holden moved away from the desk.
“Fair point,” James said, with the satisfied thrill of a hunch proven right. Almost as sweet as the feeling of Kit writhing against his cock. “Maybe the coffee table would be better.”
Bishop would call him reckless. Darius would call him a reckless fucking idiot. But this moment was enough. James could use Holden. He had a feeling Holden would prove incredibly helpful, with a little training.
Now that Kit was safe and Bishop was handling the SCU case, James could resume his true mission: making his family’s killers pay.
Slowly. Thoroughly.
He’d spent half his life working towards this goal, and he’d done a lot of soul-searching along the way. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he could work wholly on his own. He had outside investigators. Friends, which would have shocked him ten years ago.
But now, drawing closer to the Rat King, James needed allies with murkier morals than Bishop and Darius. The Rat King ruled a criminal network that James had barely scratched the surface of. Its web of influence rivaled, or maybe even surpassed, the long-vanished Viper.
Darius was too cautious. Bishop was too good a friend. He would keep James from going too far.
Holden would do no such thing.
Kit gave an exasperated groan. “Are you two done with the weird eye contact? I’d like to get fucked before the coffee shop closes.”
“Of course, pretty boy,” James murmured into his hair, then pushed him forward. “Thanks for keeping us on schedule.”
Kit knelt in front of the coffee table, James urging him down by the hair. His stinging scalp only intensified the need zinging through his nerves.
James pushed again, and the practice cell phones scattered as he bent Kit over the table. Caught between cold wood and burning attention, Kit braced himself on his elbows.
Holden set two objects on the table—the lube and the plug. Kit hadn’t seen this plug before today. Bright red silicone, not too large. The neck below the flared base might be the width of James’s cock. But the wider bulb looked…
…distracting, if they wanted Kit to wear it in public.
“Are you free the second weekend in January?” Holden asked, sitting on the floor between the table and the couch. He had a perfect view of Kit’s reddening face.
Kit’s breath hitched as James tugged his jeans. “That’s like a month away. I have no idea. Yes?”
Holden propped his chin in his hand. “My parents are visiting, since I’m not going to their place for winter break.”
“Sorry if we interrupted your vacation plans,” James said cheerfully, yanking Kit’s jeans and briefs halfway down his thighs. He palmed Kit’s ass with one broad hand while reaching for the lube.
Kit struggled to follow the conversation. His cock twitched where it hung. “You want me to meet your parents?”
“Yes,” Holden said casually.
