But the words still tasted even sweeter than the over-sugared coffee.
Framed by the steep-angled evening sunlight, Bishop contemplated the mug on his kitchen counter.
It was the rainbow ACAB mug Kit gave him. The replacement for the one Kit broke during his panic attack, not five feet from where Bishop stood now. Maybe Bishop wouldn’t have doubted his plan, if he’d used any other mug today.
There were sterile, opaque plastic bags in the drawer to his left. The plan was to seal the mug, then hide it under the sink until Kit left this evening. Then Bishop would send a DNA sample to someone who owed him a favor.
If Kit’s father was in the system, a familial DNA search should lead right to him.
But Bishop picked this mug when he made coffee for Kit. Maybe subconsciously he wanted to make this more difficult.
What would change if Bishop learned Kit’s name? Where he came from?
Learning the truth wouldn’t change whatever Kit had been through. It wouldn’t change that all of them needed to be careful, if they wanted to keep their freedom and pursue their goals.
All Bishop would gain was another name for his list, in exchange for Kit’s hurt fury.
And Bishop would lose the small moments he was selfish enough to treasure. No more flirtation over scans. No more sly little nudges, no more subconscious temptations. Kit probably didn’t even realize the way his body subtly turned, angling towards Bishop every time Bishop moved around the room.
Bishop wanted to kiss him again.
So much for keeping his distance. So much for not being compromised.
From the living room, Kit called out, “James says he’s on his way.”
“Thanks,” Bishop called back, and moved, like Kit’s voice unlocked his frozen limbs. He rinsed the mug under the faucet, water pouring cold over his fingers, and set it in the sink.
Bishop could always grab a sample another day. Now, it was time to plan a kidnapping.
8
“Surveillance is my love language.”
“I’ve been thinking about getting my GED,” Kit said as Darius pulled into the San Corvo University parking lot. “Or something.”
Darius glanced over. “Tired of the trophy boyfriend lifestyle?”
“Hardly.” Kit scanned the parking lot, even though it was too early. None of the students were the hot, blond murderer he was looking for. “Here’s the thing—I don’t want to take classes, so I’ll need a tutor, right?”
“Right,” Darius said dubiously, craning around to back into a parking spot.
Kit paused, lost in thought. Why did Darius look so hot backing into a parking space? Did everyone look that hot doing that?
Maybe he should practice during his next driving lesson with Carla.
“A tutor,” Darius prompted.
Kit shook himself from one fantasy into another. “So, I’ll ask James to hire me a super sexy tutor! Won’t that be fun?”
Darius laughed, turning off the car. “Are you seriously saying we don’t fuck you enough?”
“I didn’t have any complaints.” Kit tapped his chin in mock contemplation. “But now that you mention it…”
Laughter still warming his face, Darius kissed Kit’s cheek. Then he turned to his cell phone to check in with Bishop.
Kit tried to get comfortable. They were fifteen minutes early, which was enough time for Kit to get bored but not enough time to do much about it.
Unless…?
