Page 36 of The Hitman's Omega Priest
Their time on the island took on a similar pattern of naps, making love, cooking together, and spending time at the lagoon. On Friday afternoon, they took the longer trek down to the main beach. Kensley had a blast prowling the shoreline for shells and shiny stones. He found a small conch shell he delighted in holding to his ear to “hear” the sound of the ocean inside.
The next day, after nothing but “all is quiet” reports from Walsh, and two calls from King that no one was looking outside the tristate area for Kensley, Bishop decided it was time toexplore the neighboring open air market. He asked Walsh to do a quick scan of the boat for any sort of explosives or tracking devices before they arrived at the docks. The last thing he wanted to do was make Kensley more nervous about the trip by doing the sweep in front of him.
The boat was easy enough to handle for their brief trip, and Kensley looked adorable stuffed into a bright orange life preserver, clinging to the rail as the wind blew his hair back. At one point in the journey, their island disappeared behind them, and their destination had yet to appear ahead. They were truly alone in the middle of the ocean, a tiny speck floating on a rolling sea of vast beauty and infinite possibilities.
For a few precious moments, the future was anything they could dream.
And then a brown smudge appeared on the horizon, and the spell was broken. The feelings remained, though, and Bishop clung to them as he navigated their way to a small, private dock. King’s golf cart was gassed and waiting for them. Bishop kept a sharp eye out as he drove, keenly aware of the weight of the pistol strapped to his back, just in case they ran into unexpected trouble.
The market was near the beach. Dozens of stalls stood beneath a tall pavilion with a thatched roof, and even more stalls surrounded it, some with umbrellas for shade, and others with colorful blankets hung on poles. A gentle breeze came off the water, salting the air and keeping the bright sun from beating down too harshly.
They were approaching the nearest stall when Kensley grabbed his forearm and tugged Bishop to a stop. “Do we have money? I don’t have any money,” he said in a harsh whisper.
“I’ve got cash, it’s okay.” Bishop wanted to kiss him, but they were in an uncontrolled environment. Instead, he gentlysqueezed Kensley’s hand after prying it off his arm, then released him. “Buy anything you want.”
“What I want to buy is a villa on the water so we can stay forever, but I doubt you’ve got that much cash.”
“You’re right.” But he did have access to that kind of money; money he’d been saving since he got his first job. And once this entire fiasco with the Castle family was behind them, Bishop had every intention of giving Kensley the dream life he deserved. “How about we try to spend whatever is in my wallet?”
Kensley grinned. “Challenge accepted.”
The market didn’t have the same tourist trappings as those on the larger, more popular islands, which catered to thousands of visitors a day. This market was more of a locals’ place, with produce and seafood vendors, potted herbs and spices, baskets and hats and other things woven from the island’s natural grasses. Several stalls were cooking up different sorts of savory foods, and one vendor had local baked goods. It reminded Bishop of any farmer’s market back in the States, only with an island vibe.
Kensley led the way, Bishop slightly behind him, both to keep an eye on Kensley and to have a front-row view of all Kensley’s facial expressions. The curiosity and awe and delight as he inspected every stall, and Bishop did his best not look too much like a bodyguard. The only purchase they made on the first round was a cup of mango sorbet, which was cold and tasty.
“Ready to start really spending my money?” Bishop teased, while they ate their sorbet in the shade of the pavilion.
Kensley seductively slid his spoon out of his mouth and grinned. “For sure.”
NINE
Three hours later,they were on the boat and heading home, a cooler packed with fresh fish and produce, and their other purchases secured inside a hatch. Kensley leaned back in his seat and let the wind whip across his face, stomach full of lunch. Kensley had never eaten conch before, and it was now his new favorite food.
They had several pounds of it in the cooler.
Kensley had truly enjoyed walking around the market and what small parts of the village Bishop allowed them to wander into. The residents were cheerful and welcoming, and he’d loved sampling some of the local fruit, especially the oranges. Bishop had warned Kensley this morning about being too honest about himself, so they’d invented a brief “history” for him, and used their passport names in front of others.
Being undercover had become almost a game while they shopped.
Kensley had fawned over a pair of handwoven sandals until Bishop handed over the cash. Kensley had never been much for jewelry, but he’d also picked out a simple necklace of shaved conch shell on a braided leather cord with two blue-painted beads.
Another stall that had stolen his attention was a young woman who created art out of what she called “broken and mismatched tools.” Most of it was spoons, knives, and forks, but he’d been able to pick out small screwdrivers, large nails, and other bits of scrap metal. The artist created wind chimes, jewelry, and decorative things like candleholders.
He’d fallen in love with a pendant fashioned out of a twisted fork that was very abstract but still somehow reminded him of Bishop. It didn’t have a cord or chain, but Kensley bought it anyway, and it was still in his shorts pocket. He hadn’t told Bishop it was a gift, and he wasn’t sure how to present it as such yet.
Bishop radioed Walsh, who reported no one had been on or near the island all day. Always what they wanted to hear. He brought them in, docked and tied off the boat. Bishop handled the cooler, while Kensley carried their other purchases to the house.
After unpacking their conch, fish, and fruit, they went down to the lagoon for another late afternoon swim. Since they’d barely touched each other all day, they went in naked and wrestled in the shallows more than they swam. After a lot of horsing around, they swapped salty blow jobs on shore, and then went back up to the house to make dinner.
While Bishop cooked, Kensley poked around for something to string the metal pendant on, so he could gift it to Bishop. The vacation house lacked any sort of crafting items, but he did find a ball of jute twine in one of the spare bedrooms. Kensley used that to braid a long, natural chain for the pendant, and he was proud of the results. It was rustic and meaningful, even if he doubted Bishop would ever wear it.
After a bit more scavenging around the house, Kensley found a couple of bandanas in a dresser drawer. They didn’t seem like something King would wear, but he really didn’t know his olderbrother. He used one to wrap the corded pendant, and he put the soft bundle in his shorts pocket. Sometimes, he still boggled that he was walking around in shorts, sometimes no shirt, and swimming in the ocean, when back home it was freezing and icy.
Then he remembered the reason why he was on a tropical island and not at home, and a hint of the shine faded.
After dinner, Kensley presented Bishop with his gift. Bishop stared at it for so long that Kensley was sure he hated it. Then Bishop put it around his neck, picked Kensley up, and carried him into the bedroom.
The following week, they returned to the market for more fresh conch and some vegetables. Every word from King was to hold their position, and sometimes Kensley amused himself by wondering what King would think of all the sex Kensley and Bishop were having. Often multiple times a day. Kensley never tired of the way Bishop’s cock felt moving inside his body, filling him with his seed. Sometimes he was sore and used his mouth instead, but he couldn’t say no. He didn’twantto say no.
