Chapter 10
“You totally have a harem.”
Gravel scattered as Kit screeched the car to a halt. The safehouse loomed shabby and desolate in the blue afternoon, looking no different than Kit remembered from the murdery photo shoot. Kit paused, taking a smug breath to congratulate himself, then threw the car in park and turned the key.
“Made it!” he said, beaming.
Darius exhaled shakily from the passenger seat. “I’m driving next time.”
Okay, that was maybe fair. Kit unbuckled his seatbelt and tilted his neck with a little pop. “Hey, I was good in the city! And on the highway! The dirt roads were just new.”
From the back, Holden leaned on Kit’s seat. He toyed with Kit’s hair, sending ticklish tingles through his scalp. “I have to agree with Darius. As romantic as dying with you sounds, crashing into a muddy ditch isn’t very intimate.”
“I’m driving,” Darius repeated, cocking a thumb at Holden. “And psycho’s riding in the trunk.”
Holden just laughed.
Kit rolled his eyes. “You two are so dramatic.” He’d barely sort of come close to driving into three ditches. And had he gotten stuck in a ditch, Darius and Holden would have simply gotten the car un-stuck with their manly muscles or something. While comforting Kit over the mistake.
They were giving him shit now because everything was fine, and they liked him.
“Wait,” Darius said, as Kit reached for the door handle. He opened his own door, glancing between Kit and Holden. “You two stay put while I check the house. I know James has his tech, but I like old school verification.”
His tone was casual, but the significance wasn’t lost on Kit. The threat and question hung heavy in the air.
Darius was leaving Kit and Holden alone in the car. This was either a gesture of trust or a test.
“So retro,” Kit said, grinning. “Okay, we’ll be good.”
Darius chuckled, getting out of the car. “I never said that, and I don’t believe you. Behave, though.”
His handgun slid effortlessly from holster to hand. With predatory grace, he slunk towards the safehouse.
Holden’s laugh gusted through Kit’s hair. “What are the odds he’s parking himself inside the window, ready to snipe me for breathing on you wrong?”
Kit considered, swinging the car keys. Then he dropped them in the cup holder. “Not zero, but not high. If he thought you were a problem, you’d really be in the trunk.”
“Excellent point.” Holden exhaled one more time into Kit’s hair, then leaned back in his seat. “Now come here, darling. I’ve wanted to get you alone.”
Kit’s heart thudded. He met Holden’s gaze, glinting in the rearview mirror.
Then he crawled gracelessly into the back seat, helped and hindered by the strong hands at his hips. With a laugh, he surrendered to Holden’s direction, winding up straddling Holden’s lap. Landing heavily, Kit braced himself against Holden’s chest.
Holden smiled down, grabbing Kit’s ass and pulling him closer. “Hi there, angel.”
“Hi.” Kit squirmed. “You wanted me alone. We’re alone.”
“We’re alone,” Holden echoed, and took Kit’s jaw in his hand. Tilted his face up and back, exposing his sensitive throat.
The kiss bloomed like spring above Kit’s pulse. Roots digging through his veins, new life feeding on the darkness beneath the surface.
He expected teeth. Bruises. But Holden’s lips remained gentle on his throat.
“Missed you,” Holden murmured beneath his jaw. “Did you miss me?”
They’d seen each other plenty, but Kit knew exactly what Holden meant. Kit liked having all his men together, but he needed time alone with each of them, too.
“I missed you,” Kit admitted.
“Good.” Holden pressed one more soft kiss above Kit’s collar bone, then released his jaw. “I had something to ask you.”
Kit tensed.
This was about Dad. What else could it be? It was something Holden couldn’t say over text, something Holden couldn’t say without looking Kit in the eyes. Last time they talked, Holden had said he wouldn’t stop thinking about it, but he had promised not to do anything.
Kit was certain, with phantom kisses blooming around his throat, that Holden had lied.
“Breathe,” Holden said softly, brow furrowing. “This isn’t a bad thing.”
Holden’s voice, and the slow circling massage over his hips, drew Kit back into himself. He ducked his head, as if he could hide his overthinking panic from Holden’s attention.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Kit said, attempting bravado. “Just tell me.”
Holden obliged. “I’ve been keeping tabs on houses for sale in the local area. There are a few that could work, but I figured I’d check in before talking to James and Darius about it.”
“Houses,” Kit repeated. His head spun with the redirection from his own overthinking paranoia. “Like, to live in?”
Holden grinned, like Kit was the most delightful thing in the universe and not a stunned idiot.
“Yeah, houses to live in. You and me, and I guess James and Darius too. We waste so much time driving around that could be better spent… doing other things.” He teased beneath Kit’s shirt but didn’t go further.
“Also, I hate that you don’t live with me, and none of the other options I considered seemed feasible. ”
Kit wrapped his arms around Holden’s shoulders. Long blond hair tickled his hands. “What other options did you consider?”
“James wouldn’t agree to move into my student apartment.
The discount furniture would give him hives.
” Holden shrugged. The movement somehow brought them closer.
“James’s place is too far away. Darius’s place is too small.
We need something centrally located, secure, and big enough for my darling’s growing harem. ”
“I don’t have a harem,” Kit protested.
“You totally have a harem,” Holden said, smirking. “I’ve been watching anime with Darius. I’m kind of an expert now.”
“What the fuck have you been watching? Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Kit sighed. Mentioning Darius reminded him… “Thank you for looking at houses,” Kit said, soft and sincere. “You’re right, I’d love to live with all three of you.”
“But?” Holden prompted.
Kit wasn’t sure how James would take this idea, but he was sure of one thing. “Darius will never agree.”
Darius didn’t even want Kit to meet his sister. He was thoughtful. Caring. He gave Kit perfect gifts like guns with tracking devices. He tied Kit up and fucked him until Kit couldn’t remember his own name. He calmed Kit down like nobody else could.
But he wouldn’t agree to move in with Kit and James. Or Holden, not for a permanent arrangement beyond the current imprisonment.
“Don’t worry about that.” Holden winked. “I have a plan.”
“What kind of plan?” Kit asked suspiciously.
Holden tapped Kit on the nose. “Don’t worry, darling. Nobody will die.”
“You know that’s not reassuring, right?” Kit complained. “Clarifying that nobody will die makes it sound worse.”
Holden glanced out the window. “Quick, kiss me and tell me I’m your favorite.”
He leaned forward—but Kit pushed a hand against his mouth. Turning to the side, he saw Darius walking up. “You’re saying that specifically because Darius can read lips, aren’t you?”
“You’re so smart,” Holden mumbled against Kit’s palm. He let Kit scramble off his lap, and Kit hopped out as soon as Darius opened the door.
“All clear?” Kit asked.
“All clear,” Darius confirmed. “Time to set up for our guest.”
The hostage wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow morning, and waiting was easier when Kit had things to do.
Darius and Holden cleared out the basement, so old chairs and mops didn’t interfere with the interrogation.
Kit toured the house, making sure every window was properly boarded shut.
The task meant he didn’t overthink other things.
Even in the bathroom, where he dissociated last time.
Darius didn’t need help checking the security systems, but Kit asked how it all worked anyway. That occupied a solid half hour, with Holden draped over Kit’s shoulders as Darius patiently explained.
“Are you expecting more company?” Holden asked, each word stirring in Kit’s hair.
“I expect problems,” Darius said. “I always do. That’s why I rarely have any.”
There was a refrigerator this time. New compared to the rest of the kitchen.
After they finished clearing the basement and triple-checking the security, Kit rearranged the Chinese takeout slated for dinner, breakfast, and lunch the next day.
Then he filled the ice trays from the sink, getting the water perfectly level in each little square, and slid them into the freezer.
He was feeling distantly pleased with himself when Darius asked, “Hey, are you all right?”
Kit shook, spilling water over his fingers. He wiped his hand on his sweatshirt, trying to figure out the answer.
Trying to figure out whether to lie.
“I was fine until you made me spill water all over myself,” Kit said, forcing an adorable pout. “Can you like, try to make audible footsteps?”
Darius stood by the kitchen table, with Holden lurking in the hallway door. Something subtle and complicated crossed Darius’s face. Worry or hurt, quickly replaced with distance.
Kit’s stomach flipped. He hadn’t meant his self-protective lie as a rejection, but that was what it was. No wonder Darius didn’t open up. Confiding to a locked door yielded nothing but echoes.
At the border of the darkened hallway, Holden watched with sharp fascination.
“No promises.” Darius’s fake smile was more natural than Kit’s. “Maybe we should train your environmental awareness instead.”
Kit wiped his hand on his sweatshirt again. “We could put a bell on you.”
Darius chuckled. “You could try.”
That was that. Honesty averted. Darius would let Kit get away with it yet again, because Darius was respectful. He reached out, but he didn’t push.
Kit had been taking that for granted. In the dingy safehouse kitchen, cold water clinging to his fingers, Kit knew the truth. There were only so many times he could rebuff someone before they stopped reaching out. Not out of cruelty. They might not even realize they’d stopped.
Unlocking the door was still too terrifying. But maybe he could install a peephole.
“I’m not fine,” Kit blurted out.
His heart jackknifed, like he’d jumped off a cliff. Even as he tumbled into freefall, Kit braced himself for questioning.
Instead, Darius sighed and crossed the kitchen. His shoulders blocked out the rest of the room. “There,” he said, combing through Kit’s hair. “Was that so hard?”
Kit slumped against the cold steel refrigerator. “Fucking impossible.”
Darius’s lips pressed against Kit’s forehead. Warmth spilled across Kit’s skin, tingling through his scalp. Affection and understanding loosened his clenched fists. Darius smelled good. That mattered an absurd amount.
“Are you going to ask?” Kit mumbled, in the quiet warm shadow between them.
Darius kissed Kit’s forehead again. “Not until you’re on solid ground again.”
He pulled away. Behind him, Holden leaned against a counter. He had moved without a sound, and now he watched. Like he was weighing Kit’s secrets by the ounce.
Those secrets were still heavy, but they were lighter than they used to be.
Kit took his time recovering from that first tiny confession. He spent the evening on the couch, his feet in Holden’s lap, running through daily quests on various gacha games—how many, he would never admit. Darius spent half his time with them, half his time patrolling the safehouse.
Texts from James and Bishop were infrequent and uninformative. Which meant everything on their side was going according to plan too.
Hours later, Kit sat with Darius and Holden around the dusted-off table, splitting the takeout. Darius didn’t let Holden touch any of the boxes—he dumped chow mein and stir fry on Holden’s plate himself. Like he still didn’t trust Holden not to poison them. Very cute.
“This house creeps me out,” Kit said, staring down at his chow mein so he didn’t have to look either man in the eyes.
“I am fine, but in an ‘I’m not fine but I’m dealing with it’ sort of way.
So don’t like, worry too much. Or try to take me somewhere else.
I don’t want to fuck up the plan, and I knew what I was doing. ”
“Is there something we could do to help, darling?” Holden asked.
Kit stabbed his chopsticks into a piece of stir-fried broccoli. “You could both fuck my brains out?”
Darius choked.
Kit looked up to make sure he was breathing, then re-focused on his chopsticks. “Just a thought.”
“Darius will have to help you with that,” Holden said, with a regretful sigh. “The first time I fuck you, I want us to be alone.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Darius said, his voice somewhat hoarse.
“He’s chaining me up in a shitty bedroom tonight, did you know that?” Holden laughed. “Can’t have me wandering around unsupervised with all this equipment.”
“We don’t have the lasers set up in the windows here,” Darius commented, recovered from his choking fit.
Kit leaned back. The demented conversation eased his nerves. Here he was, sitting at a kitchen table with the assassin he was dating and the captive serial killer he was also dating. Kit’s hangups might not be so weird, given the context.
Darius calmly dumped more rice onto his plate. “Does it have anything to do with the last time we were here?”
Kit squirmed uncomfortably. “Yeah. I thought I’d be okay with it, but the photos freaked me out.”
The room fell quiet, the only sound the tap of wooden chopsticks against paper plates. The occasional chew and swallow.
That had been okay to admit. A normal person might be freaked out by photos of themselves as a corpse. Especially if they were modeling for photos to send to someone who had put a hit out on them.
Especially if the man holding the camera was the assassin who’d taken the job.
Normal people reacted to things like that. Kit didn’t have to go into the thing about Dad. The photos of pale little faces with glassy green eyes and handprints bruised into their throats.
“You should have said something,” Darius said eventually. “Though I’m not surprised you didn’t.”
Kit shrugged. “I didn’t want to fuck up that plan either. The photos were a better idea than most other options.”
“What photos?” Holden asked suddenly, a cold, restrained edge to his voice.