Chapter 43
nails between his ribs
A team of Darius’s new Rat King underlings were staking out the repurchased warehouse. Darius himself was leading more of his new underlings, plus borrowing Carla, to Laird Renaker’s cabin on the lake. James, Holden, and more of James’s underlings were heading for Kit’s childhood home.
Kit waited behind with Bishop.
The cabin was farthest away. As soon as Darius’s crew was in position, they would all invade at once. If any of Kit’s guesses were right, everything would be over by dawn.
“Does it feel weird for you, too?” Kit asked, barely louder than the dripping coffee.
“Letting other people clean up my mess?” Bishop leaned against the counter. He’d mostly stationed himself in James’s office, with very permissive access to all James’s systems. Only a few blinking screens accompanied him for Kit’s coffee run. “It feels wrong.”
Kit hadn’t been privy to James and Bishop’s argument about who should stay and who should go. He didn’t even know what factors went into the decision, just that after a few tense whispers, the matter was settled.
It was ironic how the people with the most personal stake were left behind. Ironic or intentional. Not that Kit expected to be allowed on any of the teams. He didn’t ask, even though he was a way better shot than Holden.
Last time Kit relied on others, he only delayed the inevitable. Worse. If Kit had taken care of the problem properly, instead of going to the cops, Orion Dechane would still be alive. Shiloh Laudrie would be safe at home or running away of his own volition or whatever.
Kit picked two mugs from the cupboard by feel. They clinked on the granite counter. “I should have killed him back then.”
“You were fourteen,” Bishop pointed out.
“Obviously.” Kit touched the gun at his hip for security. “He wouldn’t have seen it coming.”
But that wasn’t necessarily true. Kit hadn’t waited to see Dad before running the evidence to the cops. If Kit had stopped to think, gathered his courage for an ambush, could he have pulled off the surprise? Or would the Viper have sensed the change in his son’s demeanor?
Kit wasn’t as good at pretending back then.
Not like he was now. Kit’s phone screen lit up with a message. No buzz this time, he’d turned that off. Kit snatched up the phone.
The messages drove nails between his ribs, and Kit didn’t flinch. He slid the phone into his pocket and poured a mug of coffee. His hands didn’t tremble in the curls of steam.
Bishop didn’t ask, but the question was clear.
“It’s from Holden,” Kit said, channeling his embarrassment from an hour ago, when Holden had texted. “It’s, um. Inappropriate, given the circumstances.”
Silence deepened the shadows. Kit counted out slow breaths, trying to relax, even as surely Bishop was seeing through the fresh lie.
Instead, Bishop said, “You love that, huh?”
Right. Kit’s life was questionable enough to give pause anyway. Kit yearned for the days his biggest problem was Bishop refusing to date him with Holden around. Except that was never Kit’s biggest problem. Not any of theirs.
The real problems were out of sight, not out of mind. Deferred disasters.
“I love him.” The truth tasted painfully sweet. Abandoning the coffee, Kit drew closer to Bishop. “Just like I love you.”
Kit seized Bishop’s shirtfront as large hands steadied his hips. They eased together, a kiss as essential as a heartbeat. Faint stubble and deceptively gentle lips urged Kit’s nerves towards a crescendo.
This was true too. Kit could trust the desire simmering up from his curling toes. He could trust the low groan rumbling from Bishop’s throat to his.
Kit pulled away. Just a few inches, and that distance was somehow more heated than touch. This breath was a turning point. They could stop, or they could fuck right here in the darkened kitchen.
“I’m in a weird mood tonight,” Kit said, stepping back. Cold replaced heat. “But when this is over, I want you to fuck me until I cry.”
Bishop chuckled. “I’ll tell James and Darius to hurry the fuck up.”
Kit couldn’t fake a laugh. His phone burned against his thigh. But it was normal not to laugh on a night like this. “God, I’m so tired. But I just made coffee.”
“It’ll keep for a few hours,” Bishop said, so reliably considerate. “Get some sleep.”
One more kiss. Rougher, shallower, quickly finished. The taste of Bishop’s lips still tingled as Kit retreated upstairs.
Each footstep chorused fuck, fuck, fuck.
Kit was supposed to stop hiding shit. They had enough dramatic conversations about it over the past couple days. Kit could still run back to Bishop and confess. After he figured out what the fuck was going on.
When he reached his bedroom, he locked the door behind him. Paranoia shoved a pillow at the base, muffling the crack. Kit left the bedroom lamps off but lit up the closet, where he sat, surrounded by his wealth of ratty jeans and baggy sweatshirts.
Safely ensconced, Kit cradled his traitorous phone in both hands. Time to reread the text messages, praying he’d misread them.
He hadn’t.
They were from a different unknown number than the one Dad was using.
Unknown Number: is this kit
Unknown Number: don’t tell anyone else i’m texting please this is shiloh
A third message had arrived while Kit kissed and lied to his newest boyfriend.
Unknown Number: please can you call me
This was bullshit. Dad was probably fucking with him. Except Dad was never the type to pretend to be someone else. He had other ways of lying.
There was a grain of truth here. The name Shiloh. Holden had found the right kid. And Kit had never spoken to one of Dad’s victims before. One of the substitutes.
Kit: he’s putting you up to this. if you’re even shiloh.
Unknown Number: yes he gave me your number can you call me anyway
Unknown Number: i’m alone right now
Kit thumped his head against the wall. Goddamn, this was stupid. But forget a fucking phone call, Kit needed to see. Covering his front camera with his thumb, he started a video call.
Each ring stretched forever. Kit had a whole eternity to rub his itchy shoulder and contemplate his stupidity, until a few seconds later, the video call connected.
A too large face filled the screen, then pulled back. Everything on the other end was blurred with shadow, but Kit recognized Shiloh instantly. He recognized the emotion in Shiloh’s blurry face, too. No more teenage melancholy. This was desperate exhaustion. Panic stretched over too many days.
“Hello?” Shiloh’s gaze darted. “Are you there? I can’t see you.”
Kit exhaled. He felt too exposed, and words clawed reluctantly from his throat. “I’m here. Turn the camera around. Show me the rest of the room.”
The screen jolted, then Shiloh did as Kit asked. Obedient kid. Good for Kit, bad for Shiloh. A shaky three-sixty revealed Shiloh wasn’t in a room at all. He stood by a nondescript sedan, under a yellow streetlight. Alone.
The surroundings were familiar, even through the gloom. Shiloh was on a quiet road, next to a park. Less than five minutes’ walk from Kit’s house.
Shiloh turned the camera back to himself. Kit wished he hadn’t. Thinking was easier without that scared, young face staring at him.
“I don’t believe you’re alone,” Kit said, shifting in place. His heart rate spiked when something brushed his shoulder. Just a sweatshirt sleeve. Fuck.
The screen shook as Shiloh looked around, and his voice lowered. “Archie is somewhere in the park. He says he’ll kill me if you don’t meet me here in an hour.”
That sounded more like it.
“You have to come alone.” Shiloh’s next words were thin, fragile. “Please. I don’t know what to do.”
That broken ‘please’ hardened Kit’s nerves. He was never very good at taking care of himself. But he could help Shiloh.
Like he couldn’t help the others.
“It’s going to be okay, Shiloh,” Kit said, trying to channel Darius’s quiet reassurance. “Is anyone there besides Archie?”
Shiloh shook his head, then responded out loud, “No. The—the other guy is still at the house.”
Easiest question first. “Where is the house? How far away is it?”
“I don’t know. Archie blindfolded me for the drive. I don’t even know if I was in a house. There was just this bare room…” Shiloh glanced around furtively. Didn’t seem to spot anyone. “It was maybe half an hour? Maybe an hour? I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”
That could be the San Corvo storefront or the Vilton house. Probably not the cabin.
Kit braced himself for the next question. “Is the other guy’s name Laird Renaker?”
“I don’t know his name.” Shiloh shuddered. “He said to call him Dad.”
Kit’s stomach turned. “Stay where you are. I’m coming. Listen to me.” Kit waited for Shiloh to face the camera properly. His eyes were blue. Kit remembered that from the aunt’s post. Right now, it was too dark to tell. “You’re going to be okay.”
Still nauseous, Kit hung up. His left hand cramped, and sweat smeared the front camera lens.
Icy clarity drove Kit to his feet. Enough planning. Kit needed to act.
This was a trap, of course. Kit shoved shoes on anyway, then grabbed a dark canvas jacket. All his sensible intentions went out the window the moment he saw Shiloh’s face.
Dad probably predicted that.
No. Laird. He didn’t deserve to be called Dad by anyone, not even in Kit’s thoughts.
Kit took inventory. Gun. Bullets. He debated taking or leaving his phone. James could track him with it, which on the one hand could interrupt him too early. On the other hand, Kit wanted to be followed eventually.
Ugh. Darius was tracking the gun anyway. They were both busy. Kit had to bet they wouldn’t notice fast enough to stop him.
Now, how to sneak out without Bishop seeing…
The house was too big for one person to see every entrance. Kit just had to disable the alarm on the back staircase, then disable the alarm to the side porch. Then he was out in the darkness and insect chirps.
The perfect, open-house-ready landscaping loomed ominously. Kit crept from shadow to shadow, skin crawling.
Escaping was easier when he didn’t have to open the garage. Plus, most of James’s security personnel were on their way to the Vilton house. One more alarm system at the side gate.
Kit’s gun slipped naturally into his palm, and his full attention hooked into the dark, tree-lined streets. Archie Calvin could be lurking anywhere. It was easier to focus on every suspicious shadow, every dubious parked car, than to consider what might happen at the end of this plan.
Probably wouldn’t follow Kit’s expectations. But hopefully it wouldn’t follow Laird Renaker’s, either.
Nobody jumped out on Kit’s path to the park. The car waited under a streetlight, just like the video call showed. Next to it waited a lonely shadow, his pale face peering around like a searchlight.
Kit halted twenty feet away, out of the streetlight’s glow. Anyone looking at him would be disadvantaged by the contrast.
“Shiloh,” Kit called out.
The kid jumped. “Who’s there? Kit?”
Kit scanned the darkness for any reaction. Nothing. “Come over here.”
After a pause, Shiloh sprinted over. Stupid, obedient kid. He stumbled to a halt in front of Kit, and fuck. Kit barely risked a glance at him, trying to focus on the park. The car. But that one glance hammered their resemblance home.
“Nice to meet you, Shiloh.” Kit adjusted his grip. He should have asked James for more guns. For emotional support. Maybe one of those pens that was secretly a knife. “I’m here. What was the next step in my asshole dad’s plan?”
Shiloh hugged himself. “Is he really your dad?”
“I try not to think about it,” Kit said, not sure whether the breezy voice was to comfort Shiloh or himself.
“He is not a nice man.” Shiloh hugged himself tighter, then twisted around. Like he couldn’t meet Kit’s eyes. “Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t.”
“What can’t you do?” Kit asked, trying to sound nice and reassuring.
It must work, because Shiloh unraveled. He produced something small and plastic from his pocket. “I’m supposed to jab you with this. He said I could take you by surprise. You wouldn’t suspect me.”
Kit bit back nausea. “He was right. I wouldn’t.” Trust Laird to multitask. Hurt Kit and saddle another kid with impossible guilt at the same time. “What is it?”
“A sedative,” Shiloh answered. “At least that’s what he said. Archie will kill me if I don’t do it. I don’t want to die, but I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”
Kit couldn’t look away now. Whatever was lurking in the shadows, this was Kit’s real test. Bishop and the rest of the guys would be pissed off, but in the end, they would understand.
They’d made plenty of their own bad decisions, for their own right reasons.
Shiloh stared up with wet eyes. Colorless in the darkness. Expecting Kit to have a plan.
Luckily, Kit did. “I’m going to give you directions to a house. You’re going to run there.”
Shiloh picked up the key detail, despite his panic. “What about you?”
“I’m staying here.” Kit took the syringe. “And I’m following Laird’s plan.”