Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

TYSHAWN

I come awake slowly to the scent of bacon and eggs. My head is pounding, but the smell of the food wins out for me relaxing in bed until the headache goes away. Sam must be up early, whipping up some food. Normally, I would be the one to make breakfast—Sam is a terrible cook—but I can't. My head is killing me. The aroma has my mouth watering though. Even still, I burrow deeper into the pillows, breathing in the scent of pine needles.

Wait, pine needles? When did my pillow start smelling like pine needles? We don't exactly stay in a large city, but pine trees aren't close enough for my bedding to hold the scent.

My eyes fly open. I don't recognize where I am. My eyes bounce around my surroundings, and I take in the white sheets I'm lying on, the dresser with a flat-screen TV perched atop it just out of my periphery, and the door across from me that's cracked slightly to show it's a bathroom.

This isn't my bedroom. Where the fuck am I?

I sit up, trying to get away from wherever I am. I instantly regret rising so quickly, lying back down as shooting pain vibrates through my skull. What the fuck? Did I get drunk last night? Am I hungover?

Not fucking likely. I search my memories, trying to piece together why I feel so shitty. Last night, I couldn't sleep, so I went to see the lone building I could afford on the list my realtor sent me. I didn't make any extra stops.

A hiss drifts past my lips, my head throbbing in time with my rapid heartbeat. Clenching my teeth, I breathe in deeply through my nose, trying to calm myself so I can figure out what is going on.

While I lie there, I slowly open my eyes and look around again. My eyes drop to my clothing, and something niggles in the back of my mind. This shirt doesn't belong to me. It's way too big. I don't let the revelation shock me too much, lest my head start pounding again. I store the information away until I can better deal with it, but one thing does stand out: I was undressed last night.

Cold sets into my bones. Fuck, was I … did someone …? I take stock of myself to ensure I wasn't a victim of assault. I don't feel bad. I'm not sore … there. The only thing hurting is my head, but that's starting to abate. So why were my clothes changed?

When my headache goes from heavy pounding to a dull ache, I try getting vertical again. This time, I sit up slowly, squinting my eyes against the bright morning rays drifting through the blue gossamer curtains. It appears to still be early morning, the sun not too high in the sky.

I take a better look at my surroundings and can't conjure up where I am. The door across from me is open, but I don't see anyone through the open space. The smell of eggs and bacon is heavy in the air, but it's closer, like it's right beside?—

"Glad to see you're up," a deep voice says beside me, and a scream rips from my throat, my hands held out in front of me. I'm not sure why that voice elicits such a visceral reaction out of me. My heart thumps heavily, and sweat beads on my brow. Blood rushes my ears as I wait for a blow or something worse.

Nothing happens.

Slowly, I lower my hands, and I'm met with the blue-green stare of Leo. A long breath leaves my body as I locked eyes with him. It's Leo. Leo is safe. He's not?—

All at once, the memories of last night flood through my brain. Walking into the building, my cell phone flashlight illuminating the hallway. Hearing a gurgled sound just as I rounded the corner of what I assume used to be an employee break room. Seeing Leo standing over a dead man, blood down his front and a drenched machete in his hand.

I scramble farther up the bed, not worried about my head pounding and how hard the metal bedpost of the headboard is digging into my back. I grab the pillow and hold it front of me as some sort of flimsy protection. It won't help, but that doesn't stop me. All I can think about is Leo being a killer.

Holy fuck, Sam was right. He's dangerous. Why didn't I listen? My stupid plan to try to make him angry wasn't very clever at all. Anyone can fake things through text.

Leo peers at me with a patient expression, like I'm a toddler throwing a tantrum, and he's waiting for me to see the error of my ways. It makes me angry, but my fear totally eclipses that.

"What did you do to me? Are you going to kill me?" I whisper, trying to meld by body into the headboard to get as far away from him as I can.

He takes a seat in the chair I didn't notice when I was looking around the room, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "No, Tyshawn. I'm not going to kill you. If I wanted to, you wouldn't have woken up."

"Holding me hostage then? So I don't go to the police?"

Leo raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk on his face. "Will you let me explain before you do something that drastic?"

Wrapping my arms around the pillow against my knees, I look at him with wet eyes. "What is there to explain? You're a murderer. You killed that man in cold blood."

Grinning at me, Leo seesaws his hands. "Killed him, yes. In cold blood, nah. He deserved what he got. Most of them do."

My blood runs cold. "Most? You're … you're a serial killer?" Why am I asking questions instead of trying to get the fuck out of here? Why am I having a casual conversation with a murderer?

Leo blows out a long breath, but he doesn't look angry or impatient. How does he do it? How does he stay so composed when there's a risk of imprisonment if I'm able to escape? He's fucking crazy.

Unless he doesn't plan to let me live. Is he telling me all this because he knows if I'm dead, I won't be able to share his secrets? A hot flush drifts over my body when I think that I may only have minutes to live.

Maybe if I keep him talking, humanize myself, he'll let me go. That's what law enforcement says to do.

Another realization flashes through me, and my hand flies to the side of my neck, the only other thing that hurts besides my head. "You drugged me? Why?"

"I had to. You hungry?" he asks casually, like he didn't just drop a bomb on me. He drugged me and he's a serial killer. Who the fuck did I meet? "I made you breakfast." He holds up the plate with perfect slices of bacon and a fluffy omelet on it. My stomach growls, but I'm too queasy to think about eating.

I shake my head. "What are you going to do to me?"

Since I don't reach for the food, Leo puts it down and stands, rounding the bed to sit closer to me. Fuck! I'm stuck at the top of the bed. There's no way I can get away without scrambling past him, and Leo is way too big for me to slide by without him grabbing me.

It's only then I realize he's shirtless. Fear is still a firm passenger, but now, lust and admiration join the chat. I go to the gym often, but from the looks of it, Leo lives there. His chest is wide, his pecs hard, and his abs rippling, though a bandage covers his middle. The definition in his arms is insane. He could kill me by just flexing his bicep at my throat.

That douses my wayward thoughts. Leo could definitely kill me. He's killed before. I walked in after the fact, for fuck's sake.

Leo perches on the end of the bed, leaning toward me. He threads his hands together, elbows on his knees when I shrink back. "If I tell you what I am, will you believe me?"

My knee-jerk reaction is to say no, that I know what he is, and I won't believe shit he says, but the look in his eyes radiates nothing but honesty. Leo and I haven't known each other long, but he doesn't strike me as a person that would lie for the sake of lying. Besides, like he said, he could have killed me when I was asleep— drugged , not asleep.

Licking my lips, I nod jerkily. "I think so. I mean, what choice do I have? It's not like I can leave, right? You'll make me stay here and listen?" I snap my mouth shut, cutting off the nervous rambling. Leo gives me a soft, patient smile, and my flesh pebbles while my fear climbs. My body doesn't know what it wants to do.

"Good enough." Leo sits back, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "Yes, I'm technically a serial killer. But I don't go out and kill people randomly. I get paid to do what I do. People that don't have it in them to kill someone that wrongs them hire me."

"It's supposed to make me feel better that you're a hitman?" I murmur, hanging on to his every word.

He shrugs. "The truth doesn't usually make people feel better or worse. It just is. Last night, the man I killed? He was a child molester. One of his victims hired me to torture and kill him for what he did to him when he was a child. I abhor people that take advantage of children."

Something in the way he says that pings in my brain, and I put my fear aside, and sympathy takes its place. "Did that happen to you? Is that why you're a killer?"

Leo smiles at me, and it's not the smile he graced me with when we met. It's still beautiful, his dimples popping and his teeth flashing, but it also gives me a peek at who Leo really is. There's a sharpness to the smile, a bite to it that displays how deadly he can be, what his victims probably see before they die. A shiver runs down my spine.

"No, I was already a killer before Mr. Eldridge tried to touch me."

"Who is Mr. Eldridge?" How did we go from him being a serial killer to me finding out he may have been a potential victim of abuse?

"Director at my reform school. He was already an ass, but when he tried to touch me, I took matters into my own hands."

I shake my head, not sure what to do with that bit of information. Leo continues talking as if he doesn't see my turmoil. "My brain is wired differently than most people's. I know the difference between right and wrong. I just don't care. But I wouldn't ever hurt you."

I gape at him. "Why should I believe that? You drugged me, Leo. You changed my clothes while I was out cold and couldn't do anything about it."

He nods. "Yeah, I drugged you, but so we could talk. I only changed your shirt because it was a mess from our struggle. I figured you wouldn't want to wake up covered in blood."

"I wouldn't have been covered in blood if you weren't a killer."

"Touché," Leo mutters with a smile. Even as afraid as I am, I have to admit to myself that Leo has a great smile. It makes his eyes crinkle, giving him a carefree expression. God, why does he have to be crazy?

"You said you were wired differently. What does that mean?" I ask.

"I'm a psychopath." He says it so plainly and without a trace of humor. I stare at him, waiting for him to change his answer or tell me he's joking, but he doesn't. He stares back at me evenly, seemingly waiting for me to digest that bit of information.

"What?"

"Well, technically," he tells me, crossing his feet at the ankles, "I have antisocial personality disorder, but for people to understand, psychopath is easier to say. Also, most people correlate ASPD to sociopathy. While I have sociopathic tendencies, psychopath fits better."

Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone? Someone is telling me they're a fucking psychopath without a smile or a jest. This can't be real.

Leo must know I'm close to losing my shit, because he slides away from me, giving me some space. "I'm not explaining this right. I've never had to. Here, would you talk to my best friend?" He pulls his phone from a pair of pajama pants that hug his thick thighs. "He has some experience with it."

"Your best friend is a psychopath too?" I ask, voice going up an octave.

Chuckling while pressing buttons on his phone, Leo says, "No." I let out a breath but it immediately hitches when he tacks on, "My cousin is. My best friend is dating him."

"Did they meet on a psychopath equivalent of Grindr?" I murmur, feeling lightheaded and close to a damn heart attack.

"Nah." Leo's phone pings in his hand. "Just talk to him. He can help. I've never claimed anyone, so I never had to explain what I am."

"You can't claim me. I'm not your pet," I tell him, snatching the phone from his hands. What else do I have to lose? I can pretend to believe this shit, and when I get back to civilization, I can go to the cops and tell them about the murder.

It hits me that my car is still at the building Roger told me about. That gives me hope that someone will wonder why there's a random car parked in the lot and send out a search party.

With that same beautiful and scary smile on his face, Leo says, "That's where you're wrong, kotenok."

Before I can respond, his phone rings in my hand. Leo makes his way to the door.

A photo of a good-looking light-skinned man with a blue stripe dyed in his curly hair pops up. After shooting a glare at Leo's back, I connect the call. "Hi," I say nervously.

"Oh my God! Hi!" the man says, smiling wide enough to make his eyes squint and show all thirty-two of his teeth—if you count the wisdom teeth. Most people don't, since they either don't erupt from beneath the gum surface or they're extracted when they become painful. Having wisdom teeth is an evolutionary trait we don't need any more since we don't need them for tearing raw meat and?—

Fucking great. Even my thoughts are rambling now.

"You're Tyshawn," he says, resting a hand under his chin. "I thought Leo made you up. He's right, you are gorgeous. And your eyes. Ugh! I want them!"

Even though I'm in this weird situation, I can't help but smile. I'm not sure if he's a babbler like me or he's excited, but he sets me at ease. "You're June, then?"

"I am." He's quiet after that, just looking at me and smiling. Then he says, "You don't have to be afraid of Leo."

"He told me he's a killer," I whisper. "I walked in on him after he …" I swallow roughly as the memory assails me. "What's to stop him from doing the same to me?" My voice catches, and I wipe away a stray tear from my eye.

My fear ratchets back up, thinking of the man I saw tied to the chair last night. He looked like he suffered. From the brief glances I took, he didn't have fingers, and his face was beaten to shit. His throat was sawed open, and a glint of bone caught my eye—maybe his spinal column? Leo did more than killed him—he made it hurt, bad.

June's face softens. "It's scary, I know. I'm not sure if Leo told you, but my boyfriend Blu is like him. But Blu wouldn't dream of hurting me. After he said I was his, he took care of me. He still does. They're not normal by any stretch of the imagination, but they're loyal, and they're not liars. If Leo says he won't hurt you, he won't. He had plenty of time to hurt me, but he never did. I didn't know he was a killer until I found out he was related to Blu. But that's a whole other story."

"How can you be so blasé about them killing?"

He shrugs. "I wasn't with Blu, not initially. I was fucked up about him killing innocent people. Then his beast shifted its focus when I asked him to, killing only people that deserved to die. Leo is moving in that direction too, since there are so many people that would serve that purpose. Ask him. He'll do it for you."

A heavy chuckle drifts past my lips. "I'm supposed to just what? Forget he's a killer?"

June shakes his head. "No. But Leo is a good guy. He's been there for me for years. He's been a good friend. This is a part of who he is but not all of who he is. You like him, right?"

I'm nodding before I can come up with a lie. "He's perfect. But?—"

"Don't think about that right now. We both know what he does . We're talking about who Leo is . You've been having a great time with him, right? You've liked getting to know him?"

Again, I nod. June grins again. "Like I said, Blu is like Leo, and I'll admit I was afraid of him. But he saved my life. He also helped me get through that trauma. He's been the best boyfriend I've ever had."

Am I insane for wanting to see what happens between me and Leo? He told me he's a psychopath and a killer with no lies and no excuses. Even with the knowledge that I could tell the police, he bared it all to me.

He hasn't tried to hurt me. It would have been smarter for him to kill me and be done with it, but he brought me here to try to explain. It might not sound like a lot, but he changed my bloodied clothes so I wouldn't be uncomfortable when I woke up.

I think about him telling me he mostly kills those that deserve to die, but the people they wronged can't do it themselves. I know what that's like, wanting someone dead but not having the power or ability to do it myself.

When I was seventeen, my best friend Juliette was raped by her tutor. Even with evidence and a confession, he was only sentenced to three months in prison. Afraid of what he would do when he was released and from the pain of such a light sentence, Juliette ended her life.

After her death, I wished with everything I had in me that I was strong enough to kill her rapist. Just put a gun to his head and pull the trigger to end him. But I couldn't. I was afraid. I wasn't strong enough.

Is that what Leo does? He said mostly, so does he kill completely innocent people too? As a hitman, I'm sure he does. He takes money to kill people—they don't all have to be guilty of a crime. That's how hitmen work. I think.

God, this is so much to take in. But there's no denying that even with my terror at what I saw, I still have feelings for Leo.

I am a fool.

Snapping back to the conversation, I ask June, "How do I get past it? How did you?"

"Blu killed the man that was going to kill me," June says quietly. My eyes bulge at that bit of information. "So that went a long way in me seeing him in a different light. But I didn't know Blu before that happened. He burst into my life like a deranged superhero. You know Leo. You've been on a date with him, and you've had many conversations with him. What does your gut tell you?"

My gut tells me that Leo might be the one. Not even because he deals with my rambling, but he's been patient and kind to me, putting me more at ease than anyone I've ever met. Leo makes my soul feel good. It also makes me happy that he's talked to his best friend about me. That means he likes me too, right?

Does that mean I want to date a serial killer? Sounds like the makings of a dark romance novel.

June sees the resolve in my eyes. He chuckles and pushes the blue stripe dyed in his curly hair off his forehead. "Tell Leo to call me later. Oh, we moved your car last night, so you don't have to worry about someone stealing it." I'm sure he thinks that's helpful information, but it deflates me. There goes that plan, in case things go south with Leo.

"Thank you," I mutter.

June nods and hangs up. I'm left sitting against the headboard by myself, contemplating my next move.