Across the bedroom, James packed various tiny techy things into various larger techy things. He looked sleek and sophisticated in a charcoal long-sleeve, not intentionally undercover. “Are you mad, pretty boy?”
“I’m not mad,” Kit said, which just made him sound mad. He yanked his shoelace excessively. “Really. I’m not.”
James clicked a secret drawer shut, then closed the non-secret door it was hidden in. “It’s okay to be mad.”
He was quiet today, in that way that Kit struggled to be mad against.
“I get it,” Kit said. “There’s not a real reason to include me in this. I just… want to be involved, because it’s about you.”
Couples shared hobbies, right? Watching football, playing video games, jogging if they were lunatics, jigsaw puzzles, avenging their family’s murder…
A small smile ghosted over James’s lips. “I appreciate that, more than you know.”
Four people were involved in tonight’s plan. Carla would drive one of her personal vehicles downtown, dropping James and Kit off at an already-parked surveillance van. Then she would park separately and go out for a conspicuous drink at a local sports bar, while Holden walked right into Cicada.
Which was a night club Kit had never been to. It was close to one of the neighborhoods Uncle Ed told him to avoid, when he returned to San Corvo last year. Neighborhoods controlled by other gangs, probably including the Rat Kings, except Kit hadn’t heard of them at the time.
One of Nazario Bradach’s employees frequented Cicada. According to James’s intel, he was dating one of the bartenders, for a given value of the word dating.
This employee was their target tonight.
Not to kill or kidnap, unless things went very wrong.
“I’m a little surprised you didn’t tell Bishop,” James said, tucking the last few items into a duffel bag. “Or Darius.”
“You didn’t want me to.” Kit sighed at James’s raised eyebrows. “Okay, I didn’t tell Bishop because I’m mad at him. And I didn’t tell Darius because he might tell Bishop.”
Bishop couldn’t stop chipping away at the mortar between Kit’s bricks. Digging up things Kit maybe shouldn’t have buried. He would do the same to James.
“He can be a fucking pain, can’t he?” James abandoned the gear to stalk towards Kit. He moved like a panther. “I did want to tell you about tonight’s plan, you know.”
Kit sat up, dropping his foot with its perfectly laced shoe. “No, I don’t know that.”
James’s approach forced Kit’s chin up to keep eye contact. “That’s why I looped Holden in.” He stopped inches away from Kit’s knees and touched Kit’s chin. Held him in place. “There was a seventy-five percent chance he would tell you.”
Kit swallowed against James’s fingertips. Direct eye contact didn’t usually feel this distant. “You could have made it a hundred percent by telling me yourself.”
“I’m a coward,” James said softly. “I’m afraid of involving you, but I also want you tangled up in everything I do. I wanted someone else to make the decision.”
Protectiveness welled up inside Kit, tender and painful. “I’m worried about you.”
James released Kit’s chin to chase his jugular, down the ticklish skin of his throat to the bruises stinging just below his neckline. The echoes of Darius’s teeth.
Kit exhaled. “You haven’t been yourself.”
“I’ve been entirely too much myself.” James smiled, relaxing into self-deprecation. “A sad, pathetic little man, beneath it all.”
No. That was a maudlin route Kit refused to follow James down.
“You’re notlittle,” Kit said, obviously sweeping his gaze up and down James’s body. “The rest, though…”
James laughed, and to Kit’s relief, it sounded genuine.
“We should do something fun,” Kit said. “This weekend.”
“Like a date?” James asked, still tracing Kit’s throat. His collarbone.
“Yeah, a date.” Kit leaned forward, pushing Darius’s bitemarks into James’s fingers. “You could kidnap me and tie me up in the attic.”
