“Happy,” Darius answered. “That’s the weird part. I don’t usually feel happy about killing people.”
“It’s usually just a job.”
“Yeah. Planned out. Some stranger that another stranger has a problem with. This was…” Darius’s hand fell to Kit’s ankle, because touching him felt right. “Impulsive. Personal.”
“You don’t sound happy,” Kit said.
Perceptive little bastard. Darius couldn’t believe how much he loved that about Kit. “Maybe I should have taken care of Felicity years ago. I could have dug up the Rat King shit, and saved James years of searching.”
Frowning, Kit set the phone on the coffee table. Then he scooted onto Darius’s lap. “We talked about momentum, once.” Kit touched the tender bruise along Darius’s jaw. “Maybe three years ago, this would have gone differently. I like how things went this time, with all of you okay.”
A thousand painful timelines flashed through Darius’s mind. They vanished in the soft heat of a kiss. Darius first met Kit chained to a stair railing. Now he was the one chained to Kit, and he never wanted to be free.
This wasn’t logical or planned. That was okay. That was better than okay.
“I like this part,” Darius murmured against Kit’s lips. “I’d like to introduce you and Miranda.”
“Just me?” Kit asked, eyes sparkling.
“And your other shitty boyfriends,” Darius said, winning a delighted laugh and another kiss.
Settling back on the couch would usually feel cozy to Kit. Working together, basking in each other’s presence, regardless of how many murders had recently occurred in the building. Darius moved onto a new laptop, and Kit grabbed a tablet. Yet unease crept over Kit as he continued looking through Felicity’s devices.
He shouldn’t resent Darius’s sharing. It shouldn’t feel like something had shifted between them.
Self-awareness sucked. Kit could pinpoint the exact cause of his unease. Darius used to keep as many secrets as Kit. They were on the same level, each agreeing not to pry into the other’spast. Now Darius had shared his accidental teen assassin origin story. The balance of trust was unequal.
And Kit intended to leave it that way.
Easy enough. Darius was good about not prying.
Except when prying was the assignment. Kit caught the precise moment when Darius’s expression froze, even before Darius looked up from Felicity’s laptop.
“What did you find?” Kit asked.
“James said not to tell him anything about his family while he was in the office.” Darius angled the laptop so Kit could see. “You heard him say that, right?”
“Right,” Kit confirmed. His heart sank as he scooted closer.
The laptop was clunky. At least ten years old, judging by the quaint interface. There were only two folders on the desktop, and one was labeledAbout Nazario Bradach.
The other was labeledAbout Evelyn Zhou.
“This one wasn’t even locked,” Darius said, tense. “It was in the bedroom safe, the one with the daily code. She had to enter a password every day to keep it locked.”
“Insurance.” Kit could definitely see the connection between Darius and his mentor. “She wanted people to find this after she died.”
“Do you think James was telling the truth?” Darius asked, which explained his unusual hesitation. The proof of James’s hurt still shadowed Darius’s left cheek and jaw.
Darius wasn’t afraid of getting punched. Pain wasn’t a deterrent. Darius just didn’t want to betray James’s trust again.
Kit was nice enough not to point that out. He simply took the laptop. Damn, the thing was heavy. When were laptopsinvented? This thing felt as old as the hills. “I think he was telling the truth. But if he wasn’t, I’ll take responsibility for waiting.”
Kit expected an argument. Instead, Darius just leaned closer, to watch the screen as Kit double-clicked onAbout Evelyn Zhou.
Inside were dozens of subfolders, each helpfully and clearly named.
Trafficking - Firearms (Interstate)
