Jonah (Chicago Blaze 7)

I want to hug him, even though I know it’s not the right move. I don’t know him well enough for that. A lump wells in my throat as I try to come up with the right words.

“Let me show you my new recording booth,” he says, walking across the room.

He opens a door and I follow him there, walking into an enormous closet lined with shelves and drawers from floor to ceiling. There’s an island in the middle of the closet with a round vase set on top filled with fresh white roses.

Only about a third of the closet is being used, and in one corner a small booth has been installed. It has to be the soundproof safe communication area Logan had put in so Kai and I can talk without worrying about being overheard.

Kai walks in and I follow, making sure the door is latched before I say, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says, smiling. “We meet at last.”

“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do.” He sits down on one of the two rudimentary plywood seats in the booth. “My dad wants me to do this because I’ve been getting death threats, and he said he’ll sleep better at night knowing there’s an FBI agent here with me.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

Kai shrugs. “It goes with the territory. I don’t know if you looked me up, but I have fifteen million IG followers. I make my living as a public figure, but like I said, I’m actually very private.”

“So you’ve filed a police report about these death threats, right?”

“Yes, and that was hard for me because I had to do it under my legal name. I disguised myself as just a regular guy for it and…” He takes a shaky breath. “It was just hard. All of it is hard. People want to kill me because of who I am.”

“People can be assholes,” I say hotly. “Who you are is pretty amazing from what I can see.”

A small smile dances on his lips. “Thanks.”

“I want you to keep me in the loop on these death threats, okay? Anything threatening you receive. If you need me to go with you when you go out, just let me know.”

His expression relaxes. “Thank you. I knew this was the right thing to do; it’s why my dad volunteered me for it. But it’s always been hard for me to…show people who I am. Those portraits in my bedroom…I had no idea how it would feel for another person to see those. I felt like I was standing naked in front of you and you were just looking at me from head to toe, trying to decide if I’m male or female.”

“All I care about is this,” I say, pointing to Kai’s heart.

He breaks into a huge smile, tears shining in his eyes. “I feel like we’re already friends, and I wasn’t expecting that.”

“No? Why not?”

He looks away, laughing nervously. “When my dad suggested this, I was completely against it at first. I told him I’d need to know everything about you to even consider it, so he got me as much information about you as he could from the FBI. That’s why I said I trust you already, because I know a little bit about your background.”

“There’s not much to know,” I say, laughing. “I’m a half Cuban workaholic who was raised by my tata, my grandma.”

“You’ve got a reputation as a badass. My dad couldn’t tell me a lot of specifics, but he made some calls and he said you’re a fighter and you love sticking up for the underdog.”

I warm from head to toe with pride. “I can’t think of a better compliment than that. I’ve devoted my life to helping people who can’t help themselves.”

“And even though my dad couldn’t tell me what kind of case you’re working on, he told me that when it’s over and I find out, I’ll be really glad I was some small part of it.”

“You will, if I do my job well.”

He holds my gaze before saying, “I have a penis, is that going to be a problem?”

My mouth drops open in surprise. “A problem for me? Why would it be a problem?”

“Those are the questions non-binary, genderqueer people get. What genitals we have, what we were born as, whether we plan to get rid of those parts, what bathroom we use, and so on.”

I put up a hand to stop him. “Okay, not one of those things is my business, nor is it anyone else’s. Those people need to fuck all the way off.”

He laughs. “I agree. I just want to make sure that you’re comfortable.”

I practically melt at his look of vulnerability. “I’m completely comfortable. More importantly, are you?”

He beams. “I’m great. I was expecting an angry, gun-toting cop with no chill for some reason. But instead I got a supermodel whose hair and face I can’t wait to get my hands on.”