James grinned at that. “So am I.”
“If I find the wrong evidence, will you shoot me in the head?” Holden asked, more curious than concerned. The last person to offer revelations about James’s family didn’t end well.
James’s grin held. It looked more genuine now. “I already have plenty of reasons to shoot you in the head.”
People were funny. The more James talked about shooting Holden, the less likely he was to do it.
“When I’m done, I want to let Kit look over my notes,” Holden wouldn’t dream of making Kit do the tedious initial review. “Is that all right?”
“Of course.” James tilted his head. “Any particular reason?”
That should be obvious. Kit understood murderers.
“Kit understands people,” Holden said out loud, keeping Kit’s sharp, fragile secrets close.
“Kit was right,” James said eventually. “I need new eyes on this. My perspective is too…”
Holden waited.
Not because he was too polite to finish James’s trailing sentence, but because he didn’t know what the end would be. Biased? Angry? Grieving?
“Emotional,” James concluded. More messy vagueness. “I have another project. Can you keep a secret?”
Holden’s interest was piqued yet again. Today was a reward for all the previous tedium of this hostage-coded internship. If James was telling Holden about a secret project instead of Bishop or Darius, there had to be a good reason.
Or a bad reason.
“Depends,” Holden answered. He liked to be clear about his loyalties. Or rather, loyalty, singular. “Does that include keeping it from Kit?”
“For his own protection,” James said, watching Holden like this was a test.
Or maybe that glare was just the sleep deprivation. The shadows under his eyes were dark.
Holden cocked his head, considering. Ethical judgements required more careful thought when they were about someone important.
“I would keep a secret for Kit’s protection,” Holden said. “But my assessment of whether a secret would protect him might differ from yours, and I’m not willing to guarantee silence in advance.”
“Thanks,” James said, with such cheerfulness that it took Holden aback. “I appreciate the honesty.”
God fucking damn it. Anger flashed through Holden, and he stepped back because the other option was punching Jamesin the face. Which James clearly knew, because he laughed. Fucking asshole.
The smart move would be to promise secrecy, then decide whether to tell Kit anyway. Because Holden didn’t care about promises made to other people.
He didn’t want to be part of this group, building connections with Kit’s other boyfriends. James was a threat. A grudging ally. Not a friend.
“I can work with that,” James continued. “I’ll explain the project, and you decide whether I tell Kit.”
“Deal,” Holden said.
So, James explained the project, while Holden listened.
And there was no fucking reason not to tell Kit.
19
“Time to go, my slutty little partner in crime.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t want to tell me,” Kit said—his attempted pout coming out more seriously than he intended. He hiked his foot onto the armchair to re-tie his shoe. Not because the knot was bad. He just needed something to do with his fingers.
