Miki picked at his food at first. Then Kane nudged his foot under the table and nodded at the burrito. A few tentative nibbles, then Miki dug in. Chewing around his mouthful, he said, “It’s good. How’s yours?”
“Not as good as what’s across the table, but it’ll do.” Kane smiled as innocently as he could as Miki choked. “Don’t die on me just yet. I’ve got plans for you later. Especially teaching you a thing or two about dogs.”
Chapter 4
The poison inside of me kills what I touch,
So why should I love, when I know it’ll die?
—Arsenic Kiss
THE cop ate like he was performing surgery. Every motion was controlled and precise, from the dipping of a piece of quesadilla into tomatillo sauce to the selection of a hot pickled carrot slice out of the plastic bag. Kane fished out a tiny pepper from the baggie and popped it into his mouth, chewing through it before picking up his burrito.
Miki watched Kane from under his lashes. The tangerine glimmer from the street lights turned the hair on Kane’s forearms to a deep mahogany, with splashes of gold where the sun had bleached a few strands. A battered gold ring sat on Kane’s left pinky, the metal dinged and matte from wear, the only piece of jewelry Kane wore besides the thick-banded watch on his wrist.
There was a tiny chip missing from the tooth between his front tooth and incisor, a triangular imperfection that caught the eye when Kane grinned. From what Miki’d seen, the man did not smile softly. Instead, he threw his whole mouth into it, a slightly off-kilter, masculine expression that had more in common with Dude’s mischievous appearance than Kane probably would want to admit.
It was a grin that tugged at Miki’s belly and had his body tingling in all the right places. If only it did more than tingle.
It wasn’t that Miki wasn’t willing. Kane definitely had his interest. The man’s hands were strong, and Miki could almost feel them on him. It didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to feel Kane’s fingers digging into his hips or the heat of the man’s breath on his mouth if they ever kissed. A coiled power lay in Kane’s broad shoulders, his strength a casual confidence he wore as easily as he breathed.
Definitely more than a tingle, Miki realized as his cock thickened slightly for the first time since he woke up from his coma. And all for a cop who’d found his worst nightmare slaughtered and left on display in his car.
“You doing okay?” Kane looked up from his food and caught Miki’s eyes on him. “Kind of seem out of it. Tired?”
“Yeah, a little bit,” Miki mumbled, studying his food. “I want to go home and crash.”
“Any friends you need to call?” Kane asked, folding a piece of cheesy tortilla into his mouth.
“Nope.” Miki took a breath and blinked, willing away the sound of torn metal and cries he held inside of him. “Not anymore.”
The pain inside him grew, and Miki inhaled deeply, hoping the chill in the air would cut through him. Kane studied him, dark lashes hooding his bright blue eyes. It was disconcerting being under that stare, and Miki shifted on his seat, torn between walking off or staring the man down.
Kane threw a curveball. “Tell me what music you like.”
“You serious?” Miki looked away, thinking. “Um, different stuff, I guess. What do you like?”
“I like Metallica,” Kane ventured.
“I like them.” Miki paused. “Well, the Black album and anything before that. Things kind of went to shit after they hooked up with someone who told them the bass has to be in line with drums. It changed their sound. Yeah, that’s technically right, but it changed how they worked. Black’s more marketable, more approachable to mainstream listeners. You can definitely see that.”
“Who else?” Kane gave a small smile and leaned forward to listen.
“Tool,” he said, thinking for a second. “?nima, and anything before that. After that, it’s too much Zomb, and I don’t like Perfect Circle. Love VAST’s Video Audio Sensory Theatre. That’s a perfect album. BRMC’s Howl is pretty good. I like to listen to it when I just want to drift a bit. Dave and Johnny used to argue about Lynyrd Skynyrd, but I only like some of their stuff. Anything by Stevie Ray Vaughan. Anything.”
“Mostly blues stuff, then?”
“Nah, depends on my mood,” Miki said, shrugging. “Hyde, I love Hyde. I like him solo or under VAMPS but only some of L’Arc-en-Ciel. Love X Japan’s trance album. That’s something else to listen to when I want to drift.”
Kane chuckled, and Miki gave him a hard sidelong glance. He sniffed, then picked at his food again. “What?”
“You sound like my brother when he talks about books. Quinn deconstructs what he reads. He just can’t read.” Kane reached for another carrot. “Can I be honest?”
“That’ll be different coming from a cop,” Miki snorted. “Sure.”
“I’m worried about you,” he admitted. “And fuck me if I know why.”