Page 4 of Chasing Kit

I smiled at War again, my sweetest one. I enjoyed playing with fire, and Dad’s bodyguard was a wildfire threatening to burn me alive—a risk I was willing to take to keep him around a little longer. After what had happened in the kitchen, I’d try anything to get a reaction out of him. “Bye, War. I had a good time.”

He froze for what seemed like an eternity before giving me a curt nod and following Dad.

They headed toward a shiny white BMW belonging to Dad’s company. I still wasn't sure what he did exactly—something in acquisitions and takeovers. “Acquisitions” and “hostile takeovers” sure paid well. After slogging through a few business classes, I was glad he hadn’t droned on about it. It sounded boring as fuck.

I waved at him, and when he was gone, I shut the door. With breakfast not an option, I got ready for school and grabbed the books I needed for my classes. I left through the back door to retrieve Dad’s Bentley, which he kept safe in a garage. I reversed the car, hitting the remote on the way out to close the garage.

Grinning, I couldn’t contain my excitement. It had been a long time since Dad had let me drive the Bentley. He was protective of the car, treating it like a third son, and I couldn’t blame him. Not only was the vehicle expensive, but the engine purred and the handling was effortless.

Around the corner from the house, I pulled over, picked up my phone, and texted Leland, my best friend.

Kit

Guess who has the Bentley?

It took him a few moments to respond.

Leland

Fuck yeah. Come pick me up, asshole.

I chewed on my bottom lip. Dad hated anyone else in the car with me, but I couldn’t say no to my best friend. Screw it. Dad would never know.

I tossed my phone into the center console and drove toward Leland’s house.

2

KIT

The test was a lot easier than I’d expected. I’d made myself sick over nothing. Between classes, I grabbed food—something my body was thankful for—and went to my final class for the day, the one with the expert from New York City. I was excited about it because I’d always been interested in organized crime, and this seemed to be the guy to ask questions.

Dr. Mifflin was a peculiar man. He’d jump from the Black Hand in Australia to tax evasion in Chicago midsentence, yet he spoke with a fluidity that felt purposeful. His assistant, Lor, kept trying to steer him back to the slides, a battle he’d been losing all class. But my attention kept drifting to the men in suits. Four sat in the front row, their alert expressions reminding me of War. Another five stood across the hall, their eyes roaming constantly. My classmates didn’t seem to notice, but I couldn’t ignore them. Why did an academic need this much security?

“So then, this buff guy comes running toward me—he had a pink unicorn tattoo, right here.” Dr. Mifflin gestured to his upper arm, midstory. “He trips! On instinct, I jump out of the way, and he goes into the lake.” The class laughed, along with one of the men in the front row, a blond who seemed more relaxed than his companions. The others remained stone-faced. They weren’t here to learn.

Lor tapped Dr. Mifflin’s shoulder. “Sir, I think we’ve gone over time. We should wrap it up.”

“Right.” Dr. Mifflin laughed. “I think we’re done for the day. Thank you so much for coming and listening to my lecture. It’s been a while since I’ve done this in front of a classroom.”

The students, myself included, clapped enthusiastically. Dr. Mifflin blushed, waving his hand in thanks. Nearly everyone filed out of the hall, except for a few who stayed to ask him questions. I also remained behind, the last one.

Dr. Mifflin was packing his belongings when I approached him with a smile.

“Doctor?”

He glanced up at me with a wide grin. “Hi. Do you have questions, too? Professor Luna promised me we’d have this hall for the rest of the afternoon, so I won’t rush you. It’s a much better atmosphere than the classes I had at home. I was always being told to move on, that I lingered too long.”

Behind me, the four men I’d noticed had fallen into a light conversation, leaning in toward each other. A redhead spoke with an Irish accent. “Where are we going for dinner tonight? Ye know how Vail gets when we’re out of town. We’ll take him somewhere good.”

The five men on the other side of the hall remained stiff and alert, as if watching for a boogeyman.

Dr. Mifflin glanced between me and the men I was staring at, then chuckled. “Don’t worry about them. Those guys—” He gestured at the four. “—are my boyfriends.”

“All of them?” My mouth fell open and I snapped it shut. Four boyfriends? The idea was so foreign, so far outside my experience, that I couldn’t quite process it. I stared from one man to the next, trying to understand.

Dr. Mifflin’s cheeks flushed a deep red. “Yes. I’ve been very lucky.”

I tried to study them without being obvious. The blond was slim and muscular, like a swimmer. The redhead next to him was bigger but dwarfed by the other two. One of them, a brunet with a slicked back tapered cut and a cocky smirk, seemed to be watching me. The last man was just as large, with vigilant eyes, wavy brown hair, and an unreadable expression. An uncomfortable feeling settled in my stomach from the men’s attention, and I quickly looked away.