The words felt strange coming out of his mouth. But he meant every single one of them.
Kota nodded. “This is crazy, right? I know that it’s crazy to dump all this on you after two days.”
Walker shrugged. “Our meet-cute involved attempted murder and homicide, and our limited courtship included you watching me dismember your attacker. I think we’re well past crazy.”
Kota giggled wetly then wiped his face. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”
Walker snorted. “Let’s save that for after we lose the cops. He already thinks I’m using you for sex.”
“Would it help if I told him I was using you for sex?” Kota countered, finally smiling.
There he was. Walker liked this version of him. The one who cracked jokes at inappropriate times and smiled at the worst possible time. “Somehow, I don’t think so.”
When the officer’s door thudded shut, Walker got to his feet, turning his attention back to the officer, placing himself between Kota and the man.
The officer looked back and forth between the two of them. “Your paperwork seems in order. No warrants. No other issues. I pulled you over for drifting over the line back there. I’m gonna let you off with a warning this time, but you need to stay alert. If you’re tired, pull over and take a nap. You could kill someone out there.”
Shit.
“Yes, sir,” Walker said.
To Kota, the officer said, “You should get those bruises looked at. Maybe file a report on the guy who did that to you.”
Kota shrugged, expression grim. “I could barely even tell you what he looked like. It was dark. It’s my own fault for hitchhiking.”
The officer looked like he wanted to argue, but he just shook his head. “Y’all be careful out there.”
“Thank you, Officer,” Kota called, voice wobbly.
Walker helped Kota back into the truck, then waited for the officer to drive off before he pulled Kota in by his oversized hoodie, planting a chaste kiss on his lips, ever aware of his recent bout of vomiting.
When he pulled back, he glanced down at Kota’s disheveled appearance. “I saw more clothes in your backpack. Why have you been wearing mine?”
“‘Cause they smell like you,” Kota said with a shrug.
Walker felt something feral and possessive unfurl inside him. “You like smelling like me?”
“Yeah,” Kota admitted. His cheeks pinked immediately, like he’d only realized how weird that sounded after saying it out loud. “It makes me feel?—”
Walker’s gut clenched. He wanted to hear him say it. He cupped his face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Feel like what?”
“Like I’m yours,” Kota admitted, refusing to make eye contact, his swollen face heating up beneath Walker’s palms.
For a second, Walker just stared at him. Most people would have run screaming if they’d known half the things Walker had done. Kota, apparently, wanted a matching hoodie and joint custody of the cat.
A low grunt of approval escaped before he dragged him in again. “You are mine. You said it. Remember that if you ever decide to run. I’ll find you. And I’ll bring you back.”
The words should have sounded threatening. Instead, they felt suspiciously close to a vow.
“Promise?” Kota asked.
There was no fear in his voice. Only hope.
“Promise.”
Kota’s smile hit him square in the chest. Walker had never understood what it was that had people so obsessed with falling in love. Maybe this wasn’t love. Maybe this was obsession. Maybe it was madness. But for a killer and the guy who was the worst judge of character ever…maybe that was enough.
Kota had no clue what to expect of a bar called The Morgue. Walker called it a neutral zone for players of the game, a place for them to come and meet for various reasons. Kota had expected something sleek, modern, something with neon lights and loud music. A night club of sorts.
