Chapter 8 #2
“I—Okay. Well, I’m gonna run these licenses. If anything comes back fishy, we’re gonna have a much longer conversation and I’m gonna take a closer look at your rig.”
“Be my guest. All you’ll find is a messy bed and a judgmental feline,” Walker said with a shrug.
And a condom in the trash. But he kept that information to himself. They’d jump off that bridge when they came to it.
As soon as the officer returned to his car, Walker turned to Kota, dropping to his knees before him.
“Hey, you okay?”
Kota shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m—I’m just not feeling well.”
Walker frowned, pressing the back of his hand to Kota’s clammy forehead. “Are you really car sick?”
Kota shook his head, looking more miserable than he had ten minutes ago. His eyes were red. His lower lip trembled.
Had Walker triggered something from the attack? No. This looked different. This looked personal.
“Then what’s wrong?”
Kota burst into tears.
Walker wasn’t sure which of them was more mortified by this turn of events. He glanced toward the cruiser. Officer Petty was pretending to look at his computer. Pretending. The old bastard was absolutely watching them.
He cut his gaze back to Kota. “Talk to me.”
“We’re almost home,” Kota wailed.
Home.
The word landed strangely. Walker didn’t really have a home. He had a truck. A cat. A handful of safe houses. A house in the middle of nowhere that he stayed at a few weeks out of the year. A freezer full of problems. But Kota had managed to call it home, anyway.
“Okay…?” Walker prompted.
“We’re almost home and you’re just gonna dump me somewhere.
I know I told you to do that, but that was before and I don’t want to go,” he sobbed.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go. I want to stay with you and Cake.
I know I sound crazy, but I don’t want to leave you.
I like it here. I like being on the road with you. I don’t even care about the—”
Walker gently placed a hand over Kota’s mouth. “Shh,” he soothed.
The panic in Kota’s voice was unraveling something inside him. Walker had spent most of his life trying to avoid people getting attached to him. Now, the one person he actually wanted around thought he was being left behind.
“I’m not dumping you anywhere.”
Kota froze.
“You’re not?” he asked, voice muffled against Walker’s hand, fat tears still rolling down his cheeks.
The hope in his eyes was almost painful to look at. Like he’d already prepared himself for the worst and couldn’t quite believe he’d heard correctly.
“No,” Walker said, shaking his head and dropping his hand. “Even if you have the worst possible timing when it comes to confessing.”
“You promise you’re not going to leave me?” Kota asked.
Walker huffed out a laugh. The question shouldn’t have hit him as hard as it did. Nobody had ever asked him to stay before. Most people spent their lives trying to get away from men like him.
“If I manage to keep us both out of prison, I promise I won’t leave you behind.”
Kota launched himself into Walker’s arms, almost knocking him over. The force of it caught him off guard. It was like Kota had been holding himself together with duct tape and blind optimism and finally gave himself permission to let go.
Walker hid his laughter against Kota’s neck as he clung to him.
“I gotta say, this is not how I saw this going,” Walker admitted, pulling back and using his thumbs to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I thought I might have to actually kidnap you when we got to my place.”
“Really?” Kota asked, with a delight absolutely no other person would have had at that confession.
“Yes. Really. I’m not letting you go either.
I’m sorry if I made you so upset you were throwing up over it,” Walker said.
“If we’re gonna do this—make this work—you’re going to have to be very straightforward about what you need from me.
I am never going to figure it out organically.
If you’re mad, tell me. If you’re sad, tell me. I’ll try to fix it. Okay?”
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.