Arlo was somehow both hot and cold. Perspiration formed at his hairline and lower lip, but the gravel and dirt beneath him were icy, the frigid cold settling into his bones. Was this what going into shock felt like?
“We were alone in the restaurant,” he heard Dimitri say, his words barely penetrating the fog in his head. Would they send Arlo to prison…or would he go to a mental institution like last time? He’d rather go to prison. There was no Melvin in prison. Melvin with his dirty fingernails and yellow teeth. Arlo shuddered. Yeah, he’d rather rot in prison.
“Arlo?”
Arlo jerked his head upwards, only then realizing he’d drifted away, his thoughts untethered. “What?”
“Did anybody know about the two of you?” Dimitri asked.
Right. Like Holden would tell his football player bros about his twinky little coffee shop hookup. They would have laughed him off the field. That was what Holden had said anyway.
“In what world could somebody like me ever want somebody like you? We’re not even close to being in the same league. Of course, you want to be seen with me. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. I have a career to think about.”
“Nobody saw us together. Nobody has ever seen us together. I was his dirty little secret,” Arlo said, voice dull.
There was a slight pause, then Dimitri’s mother said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. He sounds like a real shitbag.”
Her disgust loosened something in him, and he nodded in agreement. “Holden was a real shitbag.”
“Well, hopefully, that means nobody will miss him.”
“His family is going to miss him,” Arlo swore, swallowing the sudden lump of fear in his throat. “He’s rich. Rockefeller rich. And his dad is a federal judge.”
Once more, there was a slight delay, and then Dimitri’s mom exploded. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What the fuck, Dimitri? The president wasn’t available to assassinate? There wasn’t a royal in town you could publicly guillotine?”
Dimitri tried to interject. “Mom—”
“I’ve worked so hard to keep you on the right side of prison bars. Do you know how hard it is to raise a psychopath? Is this you acting out? Did I not give you enough attention?”
“No, Mom,” Dimitri said, rolling his eyes, as if his mother was berating him over a report card and not the corpse between them, who was rapidly turning an alarming shade of cyan blue.
“Listen, if you’re about to go all Avengers on me, we really need to talk in depth about target selection and preparation. Lesson one: you cannot kill the kid of a goddamn federal judge. Not on a whim, anyway.”
“Mom… You said we’re on the clock.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “Fuckin’ fuck, Dimitri. You’re lucky I love you.”
“It’s my fault,” Arlo blurted. “It was me. I did it.”
Dimitri’s head jerked up and he gave him wide eyes that screamed ‘shut up’ before practically yelling into the phone, “No. He’s lying. He doesn’t want me to get in trouble.”
“That’s not true!” Arlo cried, glaring at Dimitri, tears welling in his eyes.
He didn’t want Dimitri suffering because of something he did. Holden had deserved what he’d gotten, but nobody would ever know that because his father would paint his son as an angel who fell victim to a boy from the wrong side of town. A boy who made up vicious rumors about his son. They’d probably say he’d tried to rob Holden or something. Would that help him when he went to prison? Would they think twice before fucking with him?
“Boys, none of this matters anymore. I’m not letting either of you go to jail for some domestic abusing fuckboy, federal judge’s son or not. But we really have to move fast. We’re on borrowed time, so save the blame game for your honeymoon or wedding anniversary or something. I’m going to hack into the cloud and find footage of you closing so I can clone it.”
“We worked together last night,” Arlo said, perking up.
Dimitri’s mother made a noise. “I’m going to go back further than that. I don’t want some spunky detective looking at a week’s worth of footage and noting a pattern.”
What was Dimitri’s mother’s name? Something Greek. Something magical. Persephone? Penelope? Calliope. That was it. Calliope.
What the hell did this woman do for a living that she was so calm in the face of her son committing murder?
“Our biggest problem is we can’t erase the fact that his phone and GPS will already show he was at the coffee shop at least once today. Whether he left and came back or just staked the place out for a few hours I won’t know until I hijack his navigation system.”
Hijack his navigation system? Was she a spy? A government agent? A criminal? Given Dimitri’s past, a criminal element in his family would make sense. More sense than a spy, anyway.
“Arlo.”
Arlo’s head snapped up as Dimitri’s mother said his name. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Christ, that’s cute. I can see why my son likes you. But don’t call me ma’am.”
“Sorry, ma—Calliope. Sorry,” he said again lamely, cheeks still burning from her calling him cute.
“Alright, my angels. Listen carefully. When the cops come—and they will—do not say you didn’t know him. If Holden told anybody about Arlo, or if any of his friends had ever seen the two of you interacting, it can come back to bite you in the ass. Just say you knew each other, but it was a busy night and if he was there, you never noticed and you definitely didn’t speak to each other. If they ask about a relationship, be vague. If they come back at you saying they know you two were a thing, just say you were afraid his family would find out he was gay. That’s it. Don’t. Embellish.”
Arlo sucked in a breath as Dimitri reached up and brushed his thumb over his lower lip. “What does Arlo say when they ask about his split lip?”
Calliope’s voice turned ice cold. “Split lip?”
Dimitri was looking at Arlo in a way that made goosebumps erupt along his skin, and he was suddenly grateful his mother wasn’t on video. “Yeah. It’s pretty obvious Holden punched him in the face.”
“He punched him in the face?” she echoed.
Arlo couldn’t speak. Humiliation flooded his system, rendering him mute. It wasn’t only the split lip. If the cops suspected him, they could get a warrant. They could ask to inspect his body for evidence of a struggle. They’d see bruises all over him. If they made him take his clothes off, they’d see it all. They’d know. They’d know everything. He blinked back tears.
He shook his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”
Dimitri’s gaze darted to his, his dark brows knitting together. “You can.”
He shook his head faster. “I can’t. I’m a terrible liar.”
Dimitri leaned over Holden’s body to grip Arlo’s chin, touching him for the second time in a minute, and—God help him—his dick took notice.
Dimitri’s voice was warm and smooth and wrapped around Arlo like a blanket. “Look at me. Look right in my eyes.” A shiver ran through Arlo as he realized they were inches apart. Even in the dark, Dimitri’s eyes were so light they practically glowed. The heat of his gaze warmed the ice currently occupying Arlo’s core.