Bishop’s smirk widened. “You’re just sorry because you feel guilty about it.”
“Basically.” Kit stepped back from the door and swept a gesture with his bottle. “Welcome to our humble lair.”
Something weird was going on between Kit and Bishop. James intended to get to the bottom of it. Not tonight. This was a housewarming party, and James felt pretty fucking great about that. Buying a house together was an important step in any relationship.
Even if only James’s name was on the deed, and he technically bought it entirely by himself. Because Kit and Holden didn’t have incomes, and Darius’s income—while not too paltry—needed more laundering before being house-purchasing ready.
This was the house James bought for Kit, and the relationship they were all building together.
At least until Holden stepped out of line.
“What have you been up to?” James asked, as Bishop put his six-pack away.
Bishop closed the fridge. “The usual. Investigating some murders, covering up others. Clearly not as busy as you.”
His wandering gaze seemed to encompass the whole property.
James wasn’t going to say anything, because Bishop was still in denial. But there was plenty of room for Bishop to move in, as soon as he got over the nonsense in his head.
“What can I say?” James lifted a can in toast. “Psycho Junior does a good slideshow.”
Right on cue, Psycho Junior swung into the kitchen.
“Speaking of presentations,” Holden said cheerfully. “I had something to show everyone before we start the game.”
James shared a glance with Bishop, who didn’t look nearly surprised enough.
Nor did Kit or Darius, when they all sat together at the dining table.
“What the fuck are you all hiding from me?” James said warily.
Holden set a manila folder on the table. “I finished looking at your dad’s scrapbooks. These photos are all the people I had weird vibes about.”
Aluminum creaked as James’s grip closed on his beer can.
Unfair resentment burned through James. They had all ambushed him. Kit had a sheepish grin as he took James’s beer, and James recalled it had been Kit’s idea to call Bishop over tonight.
And fucking Holden, who had… looked at the scrapbooks, doing exactly what James told him to. The bastard.
James had managed to forget about that assignment. All his energy had gone into the new house’s security system for the past few weeks. Some of it legal, some of it not, all of it necessary if James wanted to keep everyone he cared about in one place.
Most of all Kit, least of all Holden, of course.
“You took them out of the binders?” James asked, unable to keep the sharpness from his voice.
“I labeled them with sticky notes on the back,” Holden said serenely, sliding the folder towards James. “I can put them in the right order later.”
How thoughtful. Fucking bastard.
James hated how childish his anger felt. If only he was a little less self-aware, because that anger was so clearly a mask for pain. Every new piece of his family’s violent puzzle, every step closer to taking down the Rat Kings, forced him closer to closure.
Whatever that meant.
“Do you want to look at them alone?” Kit asked quietly.
James exhaled, anger fading. Because his anger didn’t control him, and looking around the table, he had a pretty good idea what closure was going to look like. Four people who understood him, like nobody else did.
“Of course not,” James said, and squeezed Kit’s thigh before reaching for the folder.
