Killer Love - Kiss. Kill. Repeat. #2 - Bonus Epilogue (Patreon)

A silly little bonus epilogue. Unbeta'd/Unedited with a little Easter egg about book 3 in the series.

Walker

Walker sighed, his brakes hissing as he rolled to yet another stop before throwing it in park.

He’d spent the last eight hours hauling thirty thousand pounds of dog food across three state lines only to spend the last forty minutes inching down the highway. The three lanes looked less like traffic and more like a parking lot made entirely of brake lights.

It was daylight, but the sky overhead was a dull sheet of gray, snow banked on either side of the interstate. The temperature outside hovered somewhere in the twenties, frost clinging stubbornly to guardrails and road signs, but inside the cab was toasty warm.

Kota’s thumbs were flying as he texted someone from the passenger seat, his bare feet pressed against the dashboard, his long legs exposed in a pair of shorts Walker wouldn’t let him out of the truck in. The kid was apparently immune to clothes. He'd decided pants were optional now that he lived in Walker's truck most of the time.

Walker would bet money it was Tris on the other side of the phone. It was always Tris. Walker was the jealous type and Kota knew it. He knew better than to even consider making friends with anyone other than somebody like Tris. Someone taken, someone in the know. Someone in their very, very small inner circle. Someone who understood their lives were on the line should they decide to look at Kota as anything more than a friend.

Not that Walker would ever admit that out loud. He preferred to frame it as being safety conscious. The fact that Kota looked good enough to start fistfights in truck stops was completely unrelated.

Kota perked up as the CB radio crackled to life and a tinny voice said, “Eastbound drivers, y’all got a full stop at mile marker one-fifty-three. Multi-car pileup.”

Walker reached for the mic, but knew Kota would beat him to it, slightly displacing the small ball of fur sprawled across his lap.

The ball gave an annoyed growl without opening her eyes.

“You got any idea how long we’re lookin’ at, driver?” Kota asked.

There was a brief burst of static. “Negative. State boys got both lanes shut down. Heard they’re waitin’ on two birds to land.”

Walker shot Kota an amused look. A year ago, the kid wouldn’t have known what a bird was. Now he was casually talking on the CB like he'd been born in a truck stop diner. 

Kota ignored him and keyed the mic again. “10-4. Appreciate the heads up.”

Another voice cut in. “Might as well break out your lunch, boys. We ain’t movin’ anytime soon.”

A chorus of groans and chuckles followed.

“That’s the third wreck this week through there,” someone said.

“Folks drive like they’re tryin’ to meet Jesus personally.”

More static. “Looks like a few of ‘em got their wish.”

“Truckers,” Kota muttered.

Walker snorted. “You say that like you’re not one of them now.”

Kota opened his mouth to argue, then paused. “...Shit.”

Walker laughed.

Before Kota could answer, the CB crackled again. “For anybody askin’, traffic’s backed up close to six miles. Y’all sit tight. Emergency crews are workin’ it.”

Kota reached over and turned the volume down. “Guess we’re gonna be here a while.”

Walker settled deeper into his seat. “Good thing we’re hauling dog food. No one’s gonna miss it for a few hours.”

“Don’t forget that’s not all we’re hauling,” Kota reminded him, setting the receiver back in place. “You’ve still got that wife-beater-wearing loser on ice.”

Walker grimaced. “Oh, yeah. That guy. We’ll deal with him after we offload the shipment.”

“Okie,” Kota said, immediately returning to whatever conversation he was having.

Walker returned to his podcast episode about Genghis Khan.

For approximately thirty seconds.

Then Kota laughed. Not a chuckle. Not a snort. An actual giggle. Walker sighed. “Whenever you start getting giggly, my eye starts twitching.”

Because it usually meant Tris was involved. And if Tris was involved, Walker's day was about to get significantly more complicated. Kota gave him an exaggerated eye roll. “I’m not giggly. I just laughed. Tris told me something funny.”

“That in and of itself is alarming. His sense of humor is terrifying,” Walker muttered, only half-joking.

“No, listen to this. One of the players on the app has a crush on the guy doing a podcast about his kills.”

Walker blinked at him. “What?”

“It gets even better.” Kota shifted in his seat, already grinning. “Apparently, this podcaster thinks he’s quite the investigative journalist, except he’s always wrong…about literally everything.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Walker asked.

Kota snickered. “You would think, but apparently the player feels bad cause he’s in love and a total simp, so he’s been feeding the podcaster clues about himself to help him catch him.”

Walker stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I am not,” Kota said, beaming at him with delight. “Isn’t that the best thing you’ve ever heard?”

Walker scoffed. “No.”

“It is,” Kota insisted. 

“No, it isn't,” Walker said. “The idiot is gonna find himself on the wrong side of prison bars and for what?” 

“Love,” Kota said, wistfully. 

Walker shook his head. “Sometimes I worry about you.”

“You wouldn’t go to jail for me?” Kota asked, two seconds away from full-sulk. 

“Of course I would. But not to further your podcasting career.” 

“You don’t love me,” Kota cried.

Walker balked. “I don’t love you?”  He gestured toward the sleeper. “Take a look in the back there and tell me what you see.”

Kota’s lips twitched as he glanced over his shoulder. Their snow-white long-haired kitten with her impossibly blue eyes lay curled against a visibly disgruntled Cake. She looked like she was tolerating Sugar the same way a saint tolerated a recurring plague.

“What?” Kota asked. “Sugar? How is that love? You made me bend over behind the Buc-ee’s for that baby.”

“Made you?” Walker sputtered. The sheer audacity. “Made you?”

Kota immediately looked guilty. Walker pointed at him. “You seem to be suffering from some selective memory there, squirrel.”

Kota turned his nose up at that, looking out the window like a war widow. “I remember it perfectly.”

“Bullshit.”

Kota grinned.

Walker continued anyway. “Because what I remember is you begging me to fuck you behind the Buc-ee’s because you wanted it to be ‘exciting.’”

Kota covered his face.

“Then not even letting me finish because you spotted that bedraggled, soaking wet Fraggle under the dumpster you were currently clinging to.”

Kota sucked his teeth. “Okay, when you say it like that—”

“I then spent the next three hours listening to you explain why we absolutely had to keep her,” he simpered in an exaggerated version of Kota’s pleading.

Sugar yawned from the sleeper.

“Now who’s being dramatic. I simply said we had room and that it would be nice for Cake to have a friend.” 

“You forgot the part where you cried,” Walker added.

Kota’s hand flew to his chest, clutching his invisible pearls.  “I did not cry.”

Walker rolled his eyes. “You absolutely cried. Big fat tears.”

“It was raining,” Kota countered.

Walker made a noise of derision. “We were inside, squirrel.” 

Kota pointed dramatically. “You have no proof.”

Walker laughed.

“Cake needed a friend,” Kota declared.

“Cake disagrees.”

The orange cat opened one eye. As if on cue, she randomly smacked Sugar in the face. Sugar immediately curled tighter against her. Cake sighed.

Kota pointed triumphantly. “See? Friendship.”

Walker wasn't touching that one.

“Besides,” Kota continued, “you love Sugar. She’s a sweetheart.”

Kota wasn’t wrong. But Sugar wasn’t the only stray Walker had been manipulated into adopting. Walker glanced pointedly at the tiny long-haired brown-and-white fluff currently occupying Kota’s lap.

“And the tiny rodent in your lap?”

Kota gasped. Actually gasped. Then he covered the dog's bow-covered ears.

“How dare you? Honey can hear you.”

“I don’t know how with those tiny-ass ears,” Walker grumbled.

Kota scooped up the three-pound pomeranian like a wounded Victorian child. “Don’t listen to Daddy,” he cooed. “He’s just jealous because you have cute dainty ears and pink bows and he has giant Dumbo ears and a stupid trucker hat.”

Honey licked Kota's nose. Traitor. Walker narrowed his eyes. “Keep talking and I’m buying her a little trucker hat.”

Kota froze. His eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

Walker immediately regretted speaking. “Don’t.”

“But she needs one,”Kota said, eyes wide. 

“No,” Walker said firmly.

Kota was already nodding. “She absolutely needs one.”

“No.”

“Please?” Kota asked, his tone dropping from pleading to something lower and with more promise.

Walker didn’t answer, just sighed with resignation.  Kota was already reaching for his phone. Another dog. Another future Amazon purchase. Another battle he was definitely going to lose. 

Kota grinned, dropping his feet from the dash and setting Honey on the floor. She pranced her way to the little steps that led to the bed, then snuggled in with her two sisters. Cake cracked open one eye, giving an irritated tail flick before returning to her nap.

Kota stood, straddling Walker’s lap like the whole world couldn’t see them. Like there wasn't an entire highway full of bored motorists trapped alongside them. He took Walker’s hat and turned it backwards, rubbing Walker’s ears before leaning in to give him a dirty kiss.

“Am I forgiven yet?” Kota murmured against his lips, dipping his tongue in and teasing it against Walker’s. “You taste like coffee.”

“I’ll think about it,” Walker countered, deepening the kiss. “But only if you make it up to me later.”

A slow smile spread over Kota’s face, pulling away to trail kisses along Walker’s scruffy jaw.

“If you’re willing to face a public indecency charge, I’ll make it up to you right now,” he said between kisses.

Walker’s hands tightened on his hips. “Don’t tempt me.”

He glanced around at the vehicles surrounding them on all sides, including an older man in the pickup beside them. The guy was staring. American flag decal. Wraparound sunglasses. Disapproving expression. The holy trinity.

Walker made direct eye contact with him as Kota continued mouthing at his jaw and throat, completely oblivious to their hostile audience. The man immediately dropped his gaze and became very interested in his phone. 

They were always such cowards.

A sharp bark shattered their intimate little bubble. Kota’s head snapped around immediately. Honey continued her ear-shattering yips with such enthusiasm that she appeared to levitate off the mattress with each bark. Sugar was glowering at her from Walker’s pillow.

No longer curled beside Cake, she was now aggressively licking herself as if she’d been contaminated with dog cooties.

Cake, meanwhile, was cleaning her paw with the smug satisfaction of someone who had absolutely started the fight.

“Carrot Cake Ulysses Hayes,” Kota admonished. “I know you smacked her again!”

Walker bit his bottom lip. Cake slowly looked at Kota. Then blinked. Once. Zero remorse.

“Walker, do something,” Kota demanded, pointing dramatically at the animals.

Walker huffed out a laugh. “What do you want me to do? Put her in time out?”

Kota narrowed his eyes at him. “Yes.”

“She's…a cat.”

“And she's being mean,” Kota whined.

Walker scoffed. “She’s always mean.”

Kota threw his hands up. “Exactly!”

Walker gestured toward Cake. “She’s mean to everyone. She’s a nasty old lady.” Cake yawned. “See?”

“You baby her more than me,” Kota pouted. 

“If that were true, she wouldn’t have two new siblings,” Walker reasoned. “She wasn’t prepared to be a mom. And not for nothing, but cats and dogs are diametrically opposed to one another. Like...it’s so well known it’s probably chiseled on a rock somewhere.”

“Well, it’s mean.” Kota pointed at Honey, who had now climbed halfway onto Sugar. “Now Honey is the odd one out. She has no friends.”

Honey immediately licked Sugar directly in the face. Sugar smacked her. Honey wagged harder. Walker stared. Kota stared. Sugar stared into the middle distance like she regretted every decision that had led her there.

Walker wrapped his arms around Kota and hugged him tightly. He was always assigning human feelings to their animals. It was one of those strange habits Walker found adorable. Kota sometimes did the same thing to Walker. But unlike the animals, Walker tried very hard to pretend it was true because it made Kota happy and Walker’s life had now boiled down to just making Kota happy.

“It’s okay, squirrel,” Walker soothed. “Look, she’s fine.”

Honey had somehow managed to wedge herself directly between the two cats. Cake looked moments away from committing a felony.

“She is not fine,” Kota whispered dramatically.

Walker kissed Kota’s temple. “She’s thriving.”

“She’s being bullied,” Kota said, shaking his head emphatically.

“She thinks this is a game.”

“That’s cause she’s stupid,” Kota cried. 

Kota wasn’t wrong. Funny, but not wrong. 

Walker wasn't entirely sure Honey understood bullying. The dog treated hostility the same way she treated affection. With overwhelming enthusiasm.  Honey rolled onto her back. Sugar sighed. Cake looked personally offended by her continued existence.

Kota pointed triumphantly. “See? Emotional distress.”

Walker laughed so hard he nearly choked. Honey was now also on Walker’s pillow attempting to help Sugar with her bath. 

While Sugar didn’t seem thrilled by the assistance, she wasn’t actively trying to stop her either. “Look, they’re bonding.” 

“Don’t placate me,” Kota pouted, even as he wrapped his arms around Walker’s neck and buried his face against his throat.

“I’m just giving you a hug,” Walker lied.

“Liar,” Kota muttered, snuggling closer. “I think Honey needs a friend.”

“Absolutely not, squirrel,” Walker said sternly.

Kota made a wounded sound. Then he pulled back and hit Walker with his biggest puppy eyes. The unfair ones. The ones that should have been classified as a weapon. “But they’re mean to her.”

“That walking bakery item cost me as much as a used car,” Walker reminded him.

“So what? What else were you gonna do with it?” Kota cried. “Besides, since we found Sugar at the Buc-ee’s for free, it cancels out the cost of Honeybun, right?”

Walker chuckled. “What kind of math is that?”

Kota shrugged. “Tris says it’s girl math.”

“You’re not a girl,” Walker reminded him gently.

Kota was prepared to even argue this. “No?”

“No. You’re a squirrel.”

Kota grinned. Walker rolled his eyes. This was his life now. Bickering with Kota. Pretending there were limits to what he would give him. Pretending Walker wouldn't eventually cave if Kota pushed hard enough. Even if what Kota wanted was to turn his truck into a mobile petting zoo.

As much as he liked teasing him, Walker didn’t actually mind the animals. Well. Most of the time. He could have done without explaining to strangers that their pets were named Carrot Cake, Powdered Sugar, and Honeybun.

Though, if he was being honest, he’d started the trend. How could he fault Kota for continuing it? He still wasn’t entirely sure when all three animals had acquired his last name. Or when they’d been assigned middle names, or more specifically how Cake had been assigned Walker’s first name as a middle name. Or why Honey’s veterinary paperwork listed her as Honeybun Clementine Hayes.

When questioned, Kota had simply informed him that every respectable family member deserved a middle name. Walker had made the mistake of asking if he had one picked out for Sugar. He did. Of course he did. That was how Walker had learned that his pampered dumpster cat was officially named Sugar Booger Hayes. On official documents.

Kota was all about traditions. As evidenced by the Christmas lights strung across the sleeper. The tiny Christmas tree suction-cupped to the dashboard. The wreath zip-tied to the grill. The antlers attached to the roof. And the five stockings hanging over the bed. Five. One for Walker. One for Kota. One each for the animals.

Walker still wasn’t sure when that had happened either. A year had passed since he’d rescued Kota from Early. A year of sharing a truck. A year of sharing meals. A year of waking up beside him. Walker had honestly expected to get tired of him.

He never did.

Kota somehow understood him in a way nobody else ever had. He was quiet when Walker needed silence. Silly when he needed distraction. Comforting without being smothering. He could make almost anything interesting. Even traffic. Even waiting. Even life. 

While he wasn’t street-smart, his mind fascinated Walker. He made connections between completely unrelated things. He remembered useless facts. He collected information the way other people collected baseball cards.

Sometimes Walker listened to him ramble and found himself wondering if Kota was secretly a genius masquerading as a gullible goof. Then Kota would forget where he'd put his phone while actively holding it. 

The jury was still out.

Kota seemed happy too. That was probably Walker’s favorite part. He smiled more. Laughed more. He no longer flinched at every loud noise. No longer apologized for existing. No longer panicked over ordering food. No longer looked like he was waiting for someone to decide he was too much and leave.

He teased Walker now. Touched him constantly. Took up space. Expected affection. Expected to stay. Walker hadn't realized how much he'd wanted that until it happened. Kota fit into his life like he'd always belonged there. Like he'd climbed into Walker’s truck one day and simply forgotten to leave. And somewhere along the way, Walker had stopped wanting him to.

Walker held him there for another moment, listening to the familiar sounds of the truck around them. The hum of the engine. The rattle of the heater. Honey barking at absolutely nothing. A loud thump followed.

“Was that Cake?” Kota asked.

“Probably.”

Another thump. Then an offended yowl. Kota sighed dramatically. “She’s bullying the baby again.”

“She’s establishing boundaries,” Walker said with a diplomacy he didn’t really feel.

“She smacked her,” Kota said, looking distressed.

“Boundaries.”

Kota snorted.

Walker buried his face against the side of his neck for a second. A year ago he'd been alone. Now he had a boyfriend, three animals, a truck full of dog food, and a corpse in a freezer. Objectively speaking, his life had become significantly more complicated.

He'd never been happier. 

The CB crackled from the front of the cab. “Eastbound traffic's movin', drivers.”

Walker closed his eyes. “Of course it is.”

Kota laughed.

Walker kissed his forehead once, then squeezed him tight before letting him go. “Come on, squirrel.”

Kota sighed. “Back to work?”

“Back to work.”

“Oh, good. I have more gossip. Wanna hear it?” Kota asked, hopping into his own seat and snapping his seat belt into place.

“Of course, I do, squirrel.” 

And he meant it. He really did.