“You? Complicated?” Darius reached over and ruffled Kit’s hair. “Never would have guessed.”
The gun didn’t make Kit less afraid, but Darius did. Replacing the gun in the glove box, Kit said, “Thank you. I mean it.”
“I know,” Darius said, softer. “I’ve got a few holsters for you in the back. You can try them on and see what feels comfortable. And there’s one more thing you should know.”
“Oh?” Kit twirled a strand of hair around his finger. He liked that quiet hunger in Darius’s eyes.
Darius caught Kit’s hand, and stroked his thumb against Kit’s palm, right where the grip had rested. “That handgun has a tracking device. It will also send me an alert if you fire it.” Darius lifted Kit’s hand to his lips for a barely-there kiss. “So, text me a warning before you target practice without me.”
Heat swooped through Kit’s stomach. He felt decidedly less complicated about this development. “Aw, honey, that’s so sweet of you. Surveillance is my love language.”
“Thought you might like that,” Darius said, grinning. Then he grabbed his phone. “One second.”
Kit’s phone buzzed at the same time as Darius’s. He swiped it open to a text message from Holden, sent in a group chat to both of them.
Devoted Admirer:don’t act weird, but someone is watching you from the school side of the parking lot
Fear spiked through Kit. He bit it back on reflex. Buried it beneath another question.
Kit:when did you change your name in my phone????
“That’s hardly the biggest issue here,” Darius muttered, typing back.
Darius:Take a photo.
Three photos came through immediately. They showed a middle-aged white man in a full tweed suit, sitting on a bench. He had round glasses, thinning hair, and a phone in his hand, which he appeared intently focused on.
Another attachment followed—this one a video clip of the same man, zoomed in based on how blurry the video was. Kit would have thought the video was paused, except for the wind ruffling the man’s gray-blond hair. After ten seconds, the man crossed his ankles. Then the video ended.
“Am I missing something?” Kit asked. “This is just like, a professor.”
“I’m sure Holden will explain his suspicions any moment,” Darius said, typing. He didn’t sound so sure.
Darius:I’m as paranoid as the next guy, but I need more than this.
Devoted Admirer:every once in a while he glances over at you
Devoted Admirer:he’s not a professor. The linguistics department is the only one that cosplays as professors like that
Then Kit’s phone rang with a call from Devoted Admirer. Kit couldn’t help glancing out the car window—where he couldn’t see anyone anyway.
“Hello, Devoted Admirer,” Kit answered. “What’s the deal with Mr. Tweed?”
“Hello, darling.” The usual honey clung to Holden’s words, until he turned more serious. “Look, I’m not going to bullshit some explanation. I don’t have one. I just have a hunch this guy is sketchy.”
Darius remained quiet, eyes lowered. Kit could imagine what was going through his head, because he had some of the same questions.
Holden wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy person. Kit believed one thing about him—devoted admirer was an understatement. And Holden had behaved himself, mostly, since he moved into Darius’s apartment.
But he still could be plotting something.
Or he could be telling the absolute truth. Besides, there was one more thing Kit believed about Holden. The guy had a knack for sensing danger. The sort of instinct Kit admired and envied.
“I believe you,” Kit said.
Darius sighed and asked Holden, “Can you follow him without getting caught?”
“Unless he gets into a vehicle,” Holden said.
