Page 15

“We were told her parents had withdrawn her from the Order, but who knows? The poor girl probably ended up in a psychiatric ward because of their treatment. Eventually, I figured out that becoming a robot who spewed back everything I was told was smarter than having thoughts or opinions. It definitely hurt less, and I didn’t have to suffer in Purgatory. ”

“Purgatory sounds like solitary confinement in prison. Why the fuck would priests use that as punishment in a religious institution?”

Kensley shrugged, lifting his head to meet Bishop’s eyes, his own swimming in regret. “Same reason as in prison. To break us down. Make us stop fighting. Submission.”

Bishop stroked his fingers through Kensley’s thick, black hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“You wanted to know. Some people broke. I could see it in their eyes. The way they moved through the abbey, like someone who was already dead. I guess I was too damned stubborn to let them win, so I learned how to play the game. How to be the robot they wanted me to be, without actually losing what was left of my soul.”

“I’m glad. When we first spoke a few weeks ago, I could tell there was something behind the facade you presented as Elder Thorne.

I could still see the Kensley I remembered.

The one who stole the remote, and hogged the popcorn, and who wouldn’t let me carry you after you hurt your foot.

If you weren’t still in there, I don’t think you’d have trusted me to keep you safe Saturday night, or to come with me. To be with me.”

“You’re right. Even before I was positive who you were, I knew Drew Burton could get me out of the life that was slowly killing me.

” Kensley traced his fingers over Bishop’s heart.

“I’m not sure how excited I am about a life as a fugitive from King’s enemies, but this existence right now? I’m very happy to be here with you.”

“Me too. I am so fucking sorry for everything you went through. I wish I could take some of that pain away.”

“You’ve survived your own pain. I’ve only ever burned my hand on a hot pot handle. I can’t imagine what you suffered. Was…?”

“What?”

“Was the boiler explosion actually an accident? Or was it one of your enemies?”

Bishop sighed and gently squeezed Kensley’s thigh. “The fire inspector’s report did not find evidence of arson or tampering, so it was officially deemed an accident.”

“Unofficially?”

He growled softly. “A few days after, while I was in a coma, King got a text from a burner phone. A photo of my place before and after the fire. Ziggy was unable to trace it, but King believes it was a taunt. Someone claiming to have done it to get me out of the way, and now bragging because to the rest of the world, Bishop Anders did die from his burns.”

“Do you think it’s true? That an enemy did it?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t ruled it out, because my death definitely benefited the other families trying to get King out of the way.

He was angry and scrambling, and don’t ever tell him I said this out loud, but he was extremely vulnerable for a few months.

But he kept his inner circle pucker-tight and got through it. Like he always does.”

“There’s a reason they call him King of Cats on the streets. Nine lives and all that.”

Bishop chuckled. “Yes, they do. I just hope he’s ready for whatever is about to go down, because what this adversary did?

Openly committing a burglary and attempted kidnapping inside of a church?

There’s not a bought cop on the force who’d look away from this, and we know the police commissioner has his head so far up the Holy Father’s ass that they share a digestive system. It was a huge risk.”

“To use me against King.”

“But they lost their chance to get you. And I won’t give them another one.”

Kensley smiled, bright and warm. “I know you won’t.” He kissed Bishop again, this time with a bit more intent behind it. “So now that I’ve talked about my past a little bit, can we forage for breakfast? I really don’t want cold beans.”

“Yes, we can. I need to reheat my coffee, too.”

They ended up finishing the last of the pancake batter, supplemented it with a can of fruit cocktail, and they ate at the small table like they’d done this a hundred times before.

Shared a simple meal and pleasant conversation, with nothing more pressing to do than wait.

Bishop was used to waiting, used to endless hours of boredom, but he could see that Kensley wasn’t.

Kensley was used to schedules and routines, and to knowing what he was doing exactly when and why.

He was easily bored and needed something to keep his active mind occupied while they waited for King’s call.

And since sex was the one thing that seemed to get Kensley’s brain to shut down for a little while, as soon as they cleaned up breakfast, Bishop pounced.

Kensley wanted this to be his life forever, wanted to live inside this bubble of cuddling, talking, and amazing sex until the end of time.

He was also a realist, and he knew this was temporary.

Despite his unflagging desire and his body’s natural lubrication, his ass was a touch sore after their fourth round of sex in twenty-four-hours.

Okay, more than a touch, because he was currently stretched out on his stomach, browsing through a ten-year-old nature photography magazine, while Bishop dozed on the bed beside him.

He hated that Bishop hadn’t been able to sleep much last night.

Not only because Bishop needed to be focused and sharp until they reached their final destination, but because he disliked seeing Bishop unsettled and upset.

Kensley had no true idea of everything Bishop had experienced working for King, committing more crimes than he was comfortable thinking about. Taking risk after risk.

Even asleep beside him, Bishop looked troubled, and nowhere near as relaxed as a guy who’d just gotten laid should be.

But Bishop carried a lot of burdens, many he’d never be able to share with Kensley, and Kensley understood that.

Kensley knew there were stories he’d never want to hear, even if he thought Bishop would tell him.

Sharing what little he had with Bishop about his first year in the Order had tested Kensley’s tenuous grip on the shields he’d carefully constructed around certain aspects of his own past. Around the worst moments of his life, far beyond his hand being beaten with a ruler, or being dumped into a windowless room for days on end.

Nope, not going there.

He flipped through the pages of the magazine, studying the pictures and barely reading the accompanying articles, until a soft strain of music filled the room.

Bishop grunted and stirred. Kensley pinpointed the source of the music and, without thinking, grabbed Bishop’s cell phone off the end table and accepted the call.

“Bishop?” King’s familiar, gravelly voice filled Kensley with equal parts joy at hearing his brother’s voice directly for the first time in years, and rage at the same.

“No, it’s me.”

“Kens. Where’s Bishop?”

Bishop was awake and glaring at Kensley. They wrestled for the phone, but Kensley managed to squirm off the bed and switch the call over to speaker. “He’s here,” Kensley said, “and you’re on speaker. Sorry, I needed to hear your voice and talk to you.”

King released a long breath, followed by a distinct grunt. “I’m glad to hear your voice too. Wow.”

“A bit more grown up?”

“Yes. It’s deeper and there’s a…directness that’s new.”

“Professional side effect.” Kensley held Bishop’s annoyed stare and silently cheered when Bishop took a step backward, hands on hips, which was more cute than intimidating since he was naked. “Hello, brother.”

“Hello. I don’t know what to say to you.”

“You haven’t been imagining this moment for years like I have? Exactly what you’d say when you and I were face-to-face again?”

“A little, yes, but I wasn’t expecting you to answer Bishop’s phone. How are you? I’m so sorry if this experience is scaring you.”

“Some parts have been scary, but I feel safe here with Bishop.” He grinned at the man. “He’s been an amazing bodyguard.”

“I knew he would be. It’s why I chose him.”

“The new face doesn’t hurt, either, right?”

King grunted again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t communicate the truth about his supposed death. You not knowing was safer.”

“Until knowing became necessary?”

“Exactly. You always were sharp, Kens. I wasn’t surprised when Bishop told me you figured him out.”

“Well, you can change someone’s face and have them adopt an accent, but you can’t change their inner spirit.

Their soul. And eyes are windows to the soul.

” Kensley truly believed that, and he kind of hoped he didn’t see King in person anytime soon, or King would likely see Kensley’s feelings for Bishop in his eyes, glowing like a neon sign.

“Very true,” King said and, for a moment, Kensley thought his brother was acknowledging Kensley’s feelings for Bishop. But King was referring to the comment about eyes being windows. “Bishop?”

“I’m listening,” Bishop replied, taking a few steps closer.

“I’m sending you travel instructions. I’ll have passports for you both waiting at your next destination, along with additional instructions and your final destination. When you get there, lay low until I send word that it’s safe.”

Bishop nodded. “All right. How long do you think we’ll have to stay?”

“I don’t know. The house will be set up with supplies for two weeks, but you’ll be able to shop at the local market when necessary.”

“Does this place at least have cable?” Kensley asked. “Or real books?”

“Yes to books,” King said. “No cable but there is restricted Wi-Fi. And there’s another amenity I’m sure you’ll want to take advantage of.”

“Which is?”

“A surprise. And a peace offering for ripping you out of your life.”

Kensley resisted thanking his brother for ripping him out of that soul-sucking existence, but he didn’t need King angsting anew over the decision to send him to the Order. Not when he had so much else on his overflowing plate. All of them staying alive was the most important thing right now.

The present was priority, not the past.

“When do we leave here?” Bishop asked.

“The next stop doesn’t have overnight accommodations, so I’d suggest leaving in the morning. You’ll reach your final destination by sunset tomorrow.”

All the vagueness was starting to irritate Kensley, but he also understood that both men were using an overabundance of caution. Even though their phones should be clean of bugs, King hadn’t survived this long in his violent world by taking dumb chances.

“Understood,” Bishop said. “I’ll call when we get there.”

“Good. Kens?”

“Yes?” Kensley replied.

“I love you, little brother. Stay safe.”

“I love you, too, and I will. Promise.”

The call dropped, and Kensley gave Bishop his phone back.

Bishop pulled him into a hug that Kensley sank into, loving the way he fit so well in Bishop’s arms. Part of Kensley wanted to weep with joy over having spoken to King again, and hearing with his own ears that King was doing all this because he loved him.

But Kensley was too anxious about tomorrow’s unknown travel plans.

“Do you have an idea of where we’re going?” he asked.

“An idea, yes, especially with him providing us with passports.”

“I hope it’s a tropical island, but with my luck it’ll be an igloo in northern Canada or something.”

Bishop chuckled. “I don’t think they have igloos in Canada.”

“They might. Have you explored the whole country?”

“Nope. But I have been to British Columbia, and it’s gorgeous.”

“So you think we’re going to BC?”

“Possibly. I obviously won’t know for sure until we get where we’re going tom—” His phone pinged, and he checked the notification.

“Instructions for tomorrow. We’ll know when we get to the passport pickup, Kens, so there’s no sense in guessing or wondering.

Let’s figure out what we want to create for lunch, and then watch more of that old cop show. ”

Kensley pouted for about three seconds then shrugged. “Okay, fine. Food and TV, it is. At least we know there will be more things to do wherever we’re going. I am so freaking bored here, and it’s getting to me. I can’t imagine having to stay cooped up here for two more weeks.”

“Am I not entertaining you enough?” Bishop groped his ass. “I’ll have to do better.”

“You can do better later. My ass needs a rest. Even with the natural lube, I’m not used to all this friction.”

Bishop’s smirk flattened. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all, I’m just sore and need a break from fucking, which I know can be hard to resist when I’m turned-on and wet, and trust me, my body knows I’ve got years of celibacy to make up for. But I am a grown man and can control myself for a couple of hours. As long as we both put on some clothes.”

“All right.” He gently held Kensley by the elbows and stared at him with so much intensity that his belly wobbled.

“Promise that if I ever do go too hard, or do anything that’s causing you pain, you’ll speak up.

This is very new to you, and I should have known better than to fuck you so many times, so close together. I’m sorry.”

Kensley pressed a shushing finger to Bishop’s lips. “Don’t apologize. I wanted every second of what we’ve done. And now that we know we’ve got at least two more weeks to look forward to? We can slow down a little.”

“Yes, we can.”

They shared a kiss then parted to dress. Kensley hoped their new destination came with more clothes, because he wasn’t going to be able to keep wearing the same oversized sweats and single pair of underwear that he’d been rinsing out in the sink. But that was a worry for tomorrow.

Today, he didn’t have to worry about anything except making canned goods taste like real food, and then relaxing on the couch with his boyf—bodyguard.

Yeah. Bodyguard. And friend.

Their relationship was still too new, their circumstances far too unstable, to use the other b-word.

Yet.