47. Crossfire

“You’re holding it wrong.” A smile tugs at the corner of Nail’s mouth as Kai glares at him.
“I need both hands!” Kai snaps. “It’s heavy.”
This is the first time in years Nail hasn’t come to the gun range alone. He’d started coming shortly after his parents’ divorce, splitting his free time between here and at the gym. Now he’s considered not just a regular, but a VIP. The only reason Nail is allowed in here after hours is because Chalam had made it clear that his head of security needed to remain in peak condition, ready to defend Omni Ventures and its CEO with his life as necessary.
Dramatic as it sounded, that order gave Nail full access to the range whenever he wanted. He just never thought he’d be using it to train some kid. And even if the thought had crossed his mind, Nail never thought that kid would be Kai. But it’s how the two of them had spent the last five days.
“Yes, you need both hands.” Nail just barely stops his eyes from rolling. This is the fourth time he’s explained this. Or is it the fifth? “Grip with your dominant hand, support with the other. You want control, not force.”
Kai readjusts his grip, struggling against the weight of the weapon.
“Now fix your stance.” Nail instructs. “Feet shoulder-width apart, lean slightly forward. Slightly forward. You need to brace yourself against the recoil.”
“Or I’ll go sailing off like a drunken penguin?” Kai quips.
Nail keeps his face impassive. “What?”
“Sorry.” Kai shifts his stance, moving his feet apart and leaning slightly. “Now what?”
When Nail moves toward Kai, he stiffens. For all his bravado, this kid is still scared shitless of him. The terror in his eyes gives Nail a sense of control, but it didn’t bring the satisfaction it should have. He would give the kid credit; exposing Chalam as a criminal with a ragtag team of nobodies was something the shark wouldn’t suspect. Chalam would be even more thrown off guard when Kai held a literal gun to his head. Once the kid learned to hold it properly, that was.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Nail holds his hands up, palms out in the universal position of surrender. “I’m going to show you how to not blow your own foot off.”
Kai hesitates, then nods. Nail approaches him slowly, not because he doesn’t want to scare the kid, but because he wants to keep all parts of his anatomy where they belong. Kai’s head turns as Nail positions himself behind him. His fingers fumble on the frame of the gun, though whether it’s from anxiety about shooting or Nail’s proximity, Nail isn’t sure.
“Now, place your dominant hand on the handle, but not too tight. Your support hand should wrap around the front of the grip to steady the gun. Make sure both hands work together.” Nail watches as Kai does as instructed. “You’re left handed.”
“Yeah.” Kai gives him an odd look. “So?”
“Nothing.” Nail shakes his head. Kid’s left handed. Like me.
Kai is still staring at him. “Am I doing it right?”
“Don’t look at me, look at the target. Relax your grip.” Nail’s voice stays steady. “Too tight and it’ll throw off your aim.”
Kai turns his head back toward the target, determination in his eyes. The outline of a human body hanging at the far end of the range no longer seems to intimidate him. Nail adjusts Kai’s grip, but the kid’s hands don’t fumble anymore. They hold steady, but not tight, almost like he’s starting to believe he belongs here. Maybe he’s more capable than Nail had given him credit for.
His eyes catch a flash of blue ink just below Kai’s elbow. “Is that new ink?”
“Yeah.” Kai puts the gun down, twisting his arm up so Nail can get a better look—a snake eating its own tail. “I got it a week ago.”
“It’s nice.” Nail keeps his tone flat, hiding his surprise. He didn't expect the kid to have a tattoo at all, much less one like this.
The ouroboros—life consuming itself, endings becoming beginnings, everything connected in an endless cycle. It wasn’t just some random design. It’s one Nail understood. He’s been living the ouroboros his whole life, devouring what’s left of himself to stay alive. Seeing it inked on Kai’s skin made Nail’s conscience twinge. Did the kid even know what he was marking himself with?
“It’s called an ouroboros.” Kai grins. “I got it because—”
“I didn’t ask for the history.” Nail’s voice sharpens. “I just said it was nice.”
Kai snaps his mouth shut and picks up his gun, turning back to the range. He doesn’t exactly look crestfallen but Nail still feels like he’s kicked a puppy.
“Show me your grip again.” He steps behind Kai so he can’t see the kid’s face, placing his hands back over Kai’s to make sure the grip is right. He can feel Kai’s pulse pounding through their joined hands.
“Relax.” Nail keeps his voice soft, not to calm the kid’s nerves, but so his voice doesn’t echo around the otherwise empty room. His hands carefully guide Kai’s into the right position. “Breathe in, and as you breathe out, squeeze the trigger. Don’t jerk it.”
Kai’s breath is shallow as he nods, tension radiating off him in waves. Nail steps slowly back out of the shooting stall, giving Kai the space he needs.
“It’s about control.” Nail reminds him. “You control the gun. It doesn’t control you. Breathe.”
Kai’s brow furrows in concentration as he takes aim. He breathes in, then exhales slowly, pulling the trigger. The shot echoes through the empty gun range. A bullet hole appears on the paper target’s arm—not enough to cause a lot of damage, but an injury that will definitely make a mess.
“You winged him.” Nail’s tone is level. “Better. You need to center your aim.”
Kai blows out a frustrated breath. “This isn’t as easy as it looks.”
“Never is.” This time Nail manages to keep his face and voice neutral. “But you’re learning.”
Kai turns to face him. The kid has the gall to smirk. “I impressed you with that one, didn’t I?”
Nail rolls his eyes. “A bullet in the arm won’t stop your opponent. It’ll just make a mess.”
“But,” Kai’s smirk widens. “It’s still a bullet in the arm.”
This time Nail scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. He’s not used to this—teaching, guiding…caring. It grates on him like sandpaper. He’s supposed to hate the kid. He does hate the kid. Snarky, arrogant little—
“Hey,” Kai’s voice breaks into Nail’s thoughts. “Before I forget, I got you something.”
Kai puts the gun down on the shooting bench and goes over to his bag. It’s the same one Nail has seen him hauling into the gym—maybe that’s where the kid is headed after this. Kai digs around for a second, then returns to the shooting stall, holding out a small package.
“What?” Nail doesn’t bother to keep the suspicion out of his voice. “I get a ‘thank you gift’ for my ‘assistance’?”
Kai waves the package under Nail’s nose. “Just take it.”
Nail snatches the package and opens it. His breath hitches. It’s a phone—sleek, elegant, perfect. Not a single smudge or crack on the screen or anywhere else. Something he’d let go of in exchange for survival. He swallows the discomfort rising in his throat. The device feels too clean, too generous for someone like him.
“It’s got everything that was on your old phone, including your number.” Kai explains. “Zone says it’s got an eSIM which means he could pull everything off the Cloud. He thinks I’m insane for doing this, but—”
“But what?” Nail snaps. “I don’t need your pity.”
Kai glares back at him. “It’s my fault your phone got destroyed.”
“Your fault?” Nail snorts, setting the phone back down on the shooting bench. “I made a choice.”
“One you didn’t have to make.” Kai points out. “Just like all the other ones. This is my choice. I don’t need you to say thank you. Either take it or return it, I don’t care.”
He picks up the gun again, holding it the way Nail told him to, and fires. Another bullet hole appears on the paper target’s shoulder.
“Again.” Nail commands, leaving no room for hesitation.
Kai aims a third time, then a forth, firing off two shots in succession. Another shoulder shot, then one to the paper chest.
“Again.” Nail repeats.
Angry tension shoots through Kai’s body. Good. Anger focuses the mind and steadies the hands. Anger chases away fear. As much as he dislikes this kid, Nail isn’t about to let him get himself killed—well, not easily anyway.
Nail continues to bark out commands, his voice sharp and focused, but something nags at him. Kai’s hands grow steadier with each shot, the tension easing from his shoulders. There’s a shift, a quiet certainty taking root in the kid’s stance. Nail feels an unexpected flicker of pride—a feeling he’s not sure he likes.
In between shots, Nail’s eyes stray to the phone still sitting on the shooting bench. Had the kid actually bought it himself? And talked some friend of his into restoring everything Nail had lost when he’d smashed his own phone? Because he truly thought Nail’s choice was his fault?
Guilt flutters into Nail’s chest. He quashes it. Kai is going to take out Chalam—or at least get pretty close to it. When he fails, Nail has no problem finishing that shark off. Once the bastard is dead, Nail can leave the country, without anything else to worry about. He’ll hold Kai to his word if he has to threaten the kid’s life to do it.
Kai lets out a whoop, pulling Nail’s attention back to the target. There’s another bullet hole—in the target’s head. A little off center, but still a head shot. The kid is getting closer, each shot bringing him to the point where he would either crack under the pressure, or turn into something colder, harder. Nail has no idea which will happen to Kai, but is starting to think he’ll soon find out.
“How’s that?” Kai turns his grin on Nail.
“Closer.” Nail moves back up next to him. He hesitates, then picks up the phone. “This doesn’t make us friends.”
Kai exhales and his grin widens. “If that’s the only ‘thank you’ I get, I’ll take it.”
The phone suddenly feels heavier than it did before. Nail hesitates. This wasn’t part of the plan. He doesn’t accept gifts—especially not from Kai. But the damn thing sat in his hand like a lifeline he hadn’t known he needed. Nail grimaces, pocketing the phone, pushing down the gnawing feeling in his chest. Maybe it was just survival. Maybe it was something else.
He and Kai have understood each other, that much is clear. But there’s something else between them, something neither of them is ready to confront.
“Reload.” Nail glances at the bullet hole, tamping down the urge to tell the kid he did good. “And do it again.”
Kai reloads the gun, his hands moving with more confidence. He aimes again, then fires. The bullet tears through the target's shoulder, just left of the bullseye. Nail’s eyes narrow. He’s caught it this time—that half a second where something softens behind Kai’s eyes. It’s a crack in the kids armor—one Nail doesn’t like.
“Still not enough.” He keeps his voice cold.
“I’m getting better.” Kai insists, glancing at Nail out of the corner of his eye.
“Are you?” Nail steps closer, lowering his tone into something darker, more dangerous. “You think Chalam will give you time to hesitate? To consider your options?”
Kai’s grip tightens around the gun. “I know what I have to do.”
“Yeah?” Nail’s gaze is drilling into Kai. “You’ve got one shot at finishing this. One. And if you can’t—”
“I can!” Kai snarls. But there’s a tremor in his voice, so subtle Nail almost misses it. “I will.”
“An arm shot isn’t enough.” Nail casts another cold glance at the target, then back at Kai. “A chest shot isn’t enough—”
“I had one head shot.” Kai glares at him.
“That’s a graze to the temple.” Nail corrects him. “You need to make sure that shark doesn’t get up.”
Kai blows out a frustrated breath. “You really don’t think I can do this, do you?”
“No.” Nail meets Kai’s gaze, his voice deadly. “I don’t.”
Kai flinches. His gaze drops, and he lowers the gun back to the shooting table.
“Your conscience is your problem.” Nail is determined to make the kid understand. “It doesn’t disappear just because you’re holding a gun. No, don’t argue, just listen to me. When it’s time to pull the trigger, you will hesitate. That hesitation is going to cost you. Maybe your life, maybe someone else’s.”
“So what are you saying?” Kai swallows hard. “I just—turn it off? Like you do?”
It’s as if Kai put the bullet through Nail’s chest rather than the target’s. Nail’s eyes harden. “I’m saying I’ll have to clean up your mess.”
“You won’t have to.” Kai meets Nail’s gaze and holds it, but there’s still uncertainty in his eyes. Uncertainty Nail expected all along. “I’ll do it. I’ll put a bullet right between that shark’s eyes.”
“We’ll see.” Nail steps back, allowing Kai to pick up the gun again.
Kai turns back to the target. His knuckles are white as he grips the gun. There’s no hesitation as he lines up the shot. This bullet punctures cleanly through the center of the target’s head. Nail keeps his expression unreadable.
“I’m not afraid.” Kai’s eyes are locked on the target. “I’ll finish this.”
He doesn’t wait for Nail’s instructions this time. Each shot is more precise, cleaner. A mix of doubt and a grudging respect cloud Nail’s thoughts as he watches. He has finally made Kai understand what all this actually means, what it will cost.
Chalam is a monster. Nail has enough evidence—including scars of his own—to prove that. Monsters only fall when there’s no hesitation. When the person firing the bullets knows there’s no other way. When the time comes, it won’t be Kai standing over Chalam’s body. It will be Nail.
And there won’t be any hesitation.
◼️◼️◼️◼️
Kai didn’t come see Jet at the hospital. Not the day after he woke up, not in the first week, or in the second. Mali came, and Rome, Kit and Luca, but not Kai. By the end of the second week, when Jet was discharged from the hospital, he was sure his little brother really did want nothing to do with him. Maybe that was why Kai had sent Nail after Jet in the first place—to cover up his lies and ignore his regret. Which is why he was unsurprised when Kit was the one who picked him up outside the hospital and drove them to his condo.
“Are you sick of people wondering how you feel, or can I ask that question, too?” Kit breaks the silence that permeates the car.
“You can ask.” Actually, Jet’s grateful Kit spoke at all. The hospital has been quiet, as had his room when no one else was there, so Jet will take any conversation he can get. Even if it’s answering the same question over and over. “It doesn’t feel like I have a rock on my side anymore. Now it just itches. Em says I’ll have a hell of a scar, though, so that’s something I guess.”
“Something for you to show off once you go back to the gym.” Kit grins at him.
“Can’t do that for several weeks, yet.” Jet reminds him. “I’m basically under house arrest, so I’ll have plenty of time to go through all the OmniVentures information again.”
A shadow crosses Kit’s face. “Jet—”
“Just because I might not be allowed to testify against Chalam doesn’t mean I can’t build a case.” Jet insists. “Especially with Luca’s insider knowledge.”
Kit gives him a surprised look as they pull into a parking spot. “You two talked?”
“He’s been to see me every day the past two weeks.” Jet nods. “Everyone has. Well, almost everyone.”
Kit takes his time getting out of the car and moving to the passenger side to let Jet out. Jet can’t tell if this is to give him time to process or for Kit to figure out what to say next. The temptation to ask Kit if he’s seen Kai itches more than the eighteen sutures in his side do. But what if he asks, and Kit says no? What the hell could Kai possibly be doing that would keep him from checking on his older brother? Besides finally listening to what Jet said, and staying away. Because he felt guilty.
“What did Luca tell you?” Kit’s voice breaks into Jet’s thoughts as they enter the elevator, which has finally been fixed. Jet is grateful he doesn’t have to walk up all those stairs this time.
“Names.” Jet forces his brain to focus on the question Kit asked him, rather than the whereabouts of his little brother. “Luca gave me a lot of names. Silent partners of OmniVentures Ltd, former employees and board members, lots of potential witnesses to get statements from.”
“Provided we can find them.” Kit’s response is deflating.
Jet cocks his head. “Isn’t that what background checks are for? Or Google?”
The elevator doors open and Kit walks just ahead of Jet to open the condo’s front door. Jet feels a renewed sense of energy as he tosses his antibiotics and pain meds on the bar, heading straight for the laptop that sits on the kitchen table.
He flips the device open, finger itching to get back to work. “All we have to do is send all of the names to Talay, and to Interpol, and then we can—hey, what the hell?”
Kit slaps the laptop closed. Without a word, he picks up the device and carries it to his room. He closes the door behind him when he comes back, then stands in front of Jet, arms crossed.
Jet stares at him. “What was that for?”
“Jet,” Kit sighs. “I don’t think the investigation is something you should be focusing on right now.”
Jet stiffens. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve got eighteen stitches in your side and you got discharged from the hospital twenty minutes ago.” Kit’s voice remains calm. “The only thing you should worry about right now is recovering.”
“I’m not an invalid.” Jet snaps.
“I never said you were.” Kit goes over to the counter and removes the first dose of antibiotics and pain medication from their respective bottles. “And you won’t be if you take these, and let Talay and me handle the investigation for a while.”
Jet nostrils flare, the itch in his side intensifying in response to his rising temper. Sounds of the street outside—honking of car horns, snatches of loud conversations, the call of an occasional street vendor—feel like they’re closing in on him, adding to his sense of urgency. Kit fills a glass with water and returns Jet’s glare levelly—he’s not backing down either.
“Fine,” Jet mutters. “But only for a few days. Then I’m getting back to work.”
“That’s all I ask.” Kit holds the pills out to Jet. “Meds. Now. You can have a KitKat once you’ve taken them all.”
Jet rolls his eyes as he swallows the pills, annoying himself further as his body collapses on the L-shaped sofa. The hum of the AC soothes his frazzled nerves. Afternoon sunlight throws shadows of Kit’s house plants across the floor, casting interesting patterns across the floor. The cut glass bowl on the coffee table is empty.
“Yes.” Kit tosses regular size KitKat into Jet’s lap. “Sit. Stay. Good boy.”
“Hilarious.” Jet flips him the bird as he unwraps the KitKat. “This is dark chocolate.”
“It’s healthier.” Kit smirks at him. “Which is what you need after your discharge from the hospital. Hey, only toddlers throw wrappers!”
He ducks as Jet launches the crumpled candy wrapper at his head.
“Toddlers and invalids.” Jet corrects him, taking a huge bite out of the candy bar. The dense, velvety flavor chases away the chalky taste of the pills. “Which I am, according to you. An invalid, not a toddler.”
“Only temporarily.” Kit reassures him. “And I promise to keep you posted on everything we find.”
Jet’s mouth is full of chocolate, so all he can do is nod, settling back against the soothing cushions of the sofa. His phone buzzes.
LUCA: Be there in 10.
Kit glances at the phone over Jet’s shoulder. “Your boyfriend’s coming over?”
“He’s not my—” Jet cuts off his own protest at the look on Kit’s face. “Never mind. Yes, he’s coming over, but I have no idea why.”
Kit smirks. “I do. He likes you, so you should do something about it—if you haven’t already.”
Jet doesn’t throw the wrapper a second time. He throws the candy bar inside. Kit catches it midair, biting off a good chunk before tossing it back. He moves to the cupboards above the sink, pulling out several glasses, then drops several ice cubes into each. Jet leans back against the arm of the sofa, trying to ignore the itch of his sutures and the dull ache still radiating from his side. The clink of the glasses on the bar and the hum of the AC blend together in a soothing rhythm, dulling Jet’s senses. Or maybe there was something in the pills Kit gave him. Jet’s eyelids are heavy, and his breath evens out…
He opens his eyes to a sweet, fruity aroma and the low murmur of male voices. Kit says something about ninety-eight voicemails and Luca chuckles. Jet levers himself to a sitting position, wincing as the movement pulls his sutures. Kit and Luca look up from their conversation at the bar, their faces wearing identical expressions of concern.
“I’m fine. Just fell asleep.” Jet reassures them, casting a half-hearted glare at Kit. “What did you give me?”
“Exactly what was recommended. Something for the pain, and something for sleep.” Kit salutes him with his glass. “How the hell else was I supposed to get you to relax?”
Luca’s shirt clings to his back, still damp from the short walk from his car. He gives Jet a cautious once over. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got stitched up and put back together.” Jet shrugs. “I’ll live.”
“Good to hear.” Luca crosses over to the sofa, holding a full glass out to Jet. “This might help, too.”
Jet glances down at the smooth pink contents, before raising his eyebrows at Kit. “You made strawberry shakes.”
“You’re not allowed alcohol.” Kit shrugs, taking a swig from his own glass.
“And you’ve left Silo ninety-eight voicemails?” Jet presses. “You really miss him, huh?”
Kit’s eyes shoot daggers in Jet’s direction. “Just drink your shake.”
Jet does as he’s told. A creamy, slightly tangy flavor fills his mouth at the first sip. The cold, frothy texture coats his tongue, soothing a throat he didn’t even know was dry. He empties the glass and holds it out to Luca for a refill.
“You should drink slower and get the next one yourself.” But Luca takes the glass and returns to the bar.
“Kit says I’m supposed to take it easy.” Jet points out.
“Yes, ‘take it easy’, not ‘get lazy’.” Kit corrects him. “You’re perfectly capable of getting another drink yourself.”
“I don’t mind.” Luca hands the refilled glass back to Jet. He hesitates, glancing at Kit before continuing. “I have to talk to you about something.”
Jet gives him a wary look. “About Chalam or OmniVentures?”
Luca sits next to him on the couch, his hands gripping his own glass just a little too tightly. Jet says nothing, savoring the crunch of strawberry seeds that intermingle with the tangy sweetness of the fruit they come from, waiting for Luca to speak. Luca hesitates, takes a sip of his shake, hesitates again, takes another sip, glances at Kit, then puts his glass down on the coffee table and turns to face Jet.
“We need to talk about Kai.”
Jet stiffens, one hand tightening around his glass, the other reflexively moving to the itching, aching spot in his side. “What about him?”
“You’ve been avoiding him.” Luca elaborates. “I get it, you’re pissed. But the two of you need to talk.”
“Why?” Jet scoffs, leaning back against the couch. “He clearly wants nothing to do with me.”
“Maybe he thinks you want nothing to do with him.” Luca counters. “Apparently, you said as much when he found you that night.”
Jet’s jaw clenches. The idea of conversing with Kai, picking at a wound that hadn’t even begun to heal, aches worse than the one in his side.
“You’ve been the one to look out for him, the one to protect him.” Luca persists. “He might need you more than you think.”
“Kai’s the one who didn’t show up, Luca.” Jet snaps. “Not me.”
“Except for when he rushed you to the hospital after you were gut stabbed.” Luca’s voice remains level, but there’s a warning brewing in his eyes. “What would you have done if Kai hadn’t got to you in time?”
Jet says nothing. He looks at Luca, anger simmering just beneath the surface. There’s something else there, too—guilt, maybe even doubt. About Kai? Or himself?
“I’m not talking to him.” Jet’s voice is clipped, signaling an end to this discussion.
“I told you.” Kit mutters, glancing at Luca. “He won’t listen to you any more than he will me.”
Luca shakes his head. “Jet, you can keep running from this, but it won’t go away.”
“I’m not running from anything.” Jet is on his feet, the movement tense and sudden. “I’m done with his bullshit.”
Luca tries again. “Kai’s your brother.”
“Then where the hell has he been?” Jet’s anger boils over. “Everyone else came to see me, but not him.”
“You told him to stay away.” Kit reminds him from his seat at the bar.
“He picked a hell of a time to listen to me.” Jet shoots back, gripping the arm of the sofa, hoping holding on to something solid will keep his emotions in check. “If he wanted to talk, he should have shown up. If Kai wants to stay away, fine. Let him.”
“Jet.” Luca regards him with a mixture of frustration and concern. “This isn’t just about you. You need—”
“I don’t need to talk to my brother.” Jet snaps. “I don’t want to talk to him.Not after everything he did.”
“Such as?” Kit prompts.
Jet’s gaze flicks to the closed door Kit’s bedroom. For a moment, he’s tempted to bolt for that door and retrieve the laptop Kit had just confiscated. He needs something to focus on, something he can control. Something that doesn’t make him feel like he’s drowning again.
“Jet.” Luca’s push is hesitant, but it’s still a push.
“Kai lied to me.” Jet sighs. “He lied, and then sent Nail to kill me to save his own skin.”
Kit’s mouth drops open. He looks at Jet, the frustration clear in his eyes. There’s something else there too—like disappointment. In Jet? In Kai? In them both?”
Luca rolls his eyes. “So stupid.”
“What?” The look Jet gives him is more confused than angry.
“I said you’re so damn stupid!” Luca repeats, surging to his feet. “If you think Kai sent Nail to kill you, then you don’t know your little brother at all.”
Fully on the defensive now, Jet scoffs. “And you do?”
To his surprise, Luca nods. “Actually, yeah. I met him on his first night at uni. He came into Nightshade all by himself and I asked for his ID. He glared at me and said he wasn’t underage and even if he was, his alcohol allergy would prevent him from drinking too much anyway.”
Jet smiles in spite of himself. “That sounds exactly like something Kai would say.”
“I thought he was joking.” Luca continues, with only the slightest glance at Jet to acknowledge his comment. “But I didn’t want to test him, so I just let him stay. He came every night after that, just sat at the bar by himself for a couple of hours and then went home. I started talking to him just so he didn’t feel so alone, and then on nights I didn’t work Pepper talked to him, and you know what we figured out?”
“What?” Jet says it because Luca has gone silent, waiting for Jet’s reaction.
“Your little brother is the most stubborn little shit I have ever met.” Luca is smiling now. “He hates being told what to do--especially if he thinks his idea is better--and he’ll figure things out on his own even if it kills him.”
Jet cocks an eyebrow at him. “Or certain family members?”
“That’s not even a little bit funny.” Luca’s face sobers. “Kai isn’t just stubborn. He’s also the most loyal little shit I’ve ever met. He will always look out for the people he cares about, even if he has to get into trouble to do it. You know how much of a wreck he was the night you were in the hospital? Didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, checked his phone so many times he drained the battery, even after he got the call to stay away. Kai loves you just as much as he loves Mali, and he’ll do anything for the two of you.”
“Are you trying to make me feel guilty?” It’s a rhetorical question but Jet asks it anyway.
“Yes,” Luca doesn’t even bother denying it. “Because I don't like it when my boyfriend behaves like an ass. Maybe Kai lied to you because he knew exactly how you would react. Have you ever thought of that? Didn’t you do the same thing?”
Actually, Jet had, and it shows on his face. He had lied to Kai, at least initially, that night he’d found his little brother in the alley behind Nightshade. Luca nods.
“Then talk to him. Don’t do something the both of you are going to regret.” He glances over at Kit. “And give me the number of whoever is ignoring you. I’ll yell at him too.”
“He’s in New York,” Kit points out. “That’s twelve hours behind us.”
“Then I’ll leave him a voicemail. His ninety-ninth, right?” Luca doesn’t exactly slam the door as he goes out, but the condo still shakes a little bit.
“He’s right,” Kit says into the silence. “You should tell him that.”
“Why?” Jet scoffs. “Because it will make us both feel better?’
“Because it’s true.” Kit goes out on the balcony to light a cigarette.