12. SAMUEL

I woke to the vibrating throb of a headache on the corners of my mind, and as soon as I opened my eyes, all the pain flooded to the centre, bursting. My room was dark, and the best place for me to wait out a hangover headache, but I rarely listened to my body. Except when I climbed into bed, or I must've fallen into it.

With pains and aches, I stumbled away from my bed and toward the bathroom. I had some heavy painkillers stashed away inside a medicine cabinet. It helped when you had people with pharmaceutical experience under your employment for them to make you something stronger.

My hands turned to clenched fists at the brightness of the bathroom lights. I was ready to punch a hole through the cabinet glass. My reflection had looked worse. My hair stuck up in all places, my shirt unbuttoned at the collar and half-tucked into the waistband of my underwear while my trousers were ready to slide down my thighs.

"Fuck," I grumbled, staring directly into my eyes. I was angry at how I'd got like this. The last thing I wanted was to be a drunk. My father drank every single night until he couldn't, he'd only become nicer in the last few years. And now he was dead. Killed. Someone murdered him. I knew it. "Fuck." I slapped myself, aiming for the pain behind my eyes.

It was 2:11 A.M. and I recalled little after seeing my cousins. My gut told me to trust them, my gut didn't like to think we would hurt each other. But I also wasn't convinced they wouldn't. We were the third generation, I couldn't trust them as well as my father had trusted his brothers, or how hungry my grandfather had been when he started the firm. Back then, we were hardened criminals, scrappy, and spilling blood on every corner as a warning. I never lived through any of that, but those stories were still family history.

I took a tablet from the unmarked pill bottle and undressed.

I knew what my father would've said if he could see me. He'd tell me to take a fucking breath, a step back, and sort yourself out. At least, that's what he'd told me before when I'd been overwhelmed with anger and frustration.

The shower helped, as did brushing my teeth. I felt renewed, and while there was a horrible sense of dread in the pit of my stomach, something I couldn't shake, no matter how much I cleaned my outside.

Into a pair of gym shorts and a vest top, I was going to exercise my demons. But first, I noticed a small opening in the Leo's doorway. He was sound asleep, the colourful lights from his iPad played in his face as his mouth was open and he snored.

I approached him, slowly, I examined the room he'd made his own. A scratchable world map poster tacked to the wall. He dressed in a grey onesie, wrapping an arm around his teddy. I stared over him for a moment as flashes of our interaction earlier appeared in my mind. His scared little face staring at me while I held onto him in my drunken stupor. I'd told him I wasn't going to hurt him. I hoped I hadn't broken that promise.

Before leaving his room, I turned the iPad off. I wanted to kiss him, but he was sleeping, and I didn't want the first kiss to be a stolen one. I wanted it from him, his choice, and for that, I needed to show him I was more than a killer.

"Sleep well," I whispered.

I'd missed a lot while I passed out, including Kelly, she was supposed to come and deliver the food, alongside dropping off a package. But the only part of that I'd missed was collecting it myself.

On the kitchen counter, the opened bar of cocaine in a plastic wrap. They disguised it as chocolate, fitting, given that some people referred to it as nose candy. I knew Leo must've opened it. But it wasn't for me. This was for a meeting tomorrow.

I sealed the wrapper of the bar and tucked it away.

In the home gym, I had my running shoes on, tied tight and ready to get moving. I didn't play any music, just the sound of the machine and my thoughts were enough noise to deal with at once.

My mind wondered, trying to figure out what was going on in Leo's mind. He wasn't supposed to see me drunk to the point of passing out, and he knew the business had ties to drugs, so he couldn't be shocked by it. I was just glad he wasn't into them. I didn't have space to deal with someone who needed a fix every couple of hours.

After an hour and a half, I finished and took another shower. My headache was gone, but the memories, like implanted thoughts were strong. I'd almost forced Leo to spend the night with me in bed, my hands and fingers continued to curl up with a muscle memory of how he felt.

I dressed in a white shirt with the collar unbuttoned and a pair of grey trousers. Suits always made me feel professional, they made life seem easy, and you could always command respect from someone when you were dressed well.

A large dish of scrambled egg and toast later, and I continued to sit at the dining table with a view of the hallway. I waited for Leo to make an appearance. I didn't want to wake him this early again.

I took a moment away to load the dishwasher, and then search for my phone.

It was tucked between the cushions of the sofa. Another memory came forward. Leo placing a hand on my inner thigh. My heart racing. He was asking me if that's what I wanted him to do. Obviously, I wanted that, but not because he thought I wanted it, but because he wanted it too.

Elias had texted several times.

—My dad said when he got to the house, your mum wasn't there.

—He said your dad was out of breath and slurring. He tried to get the butler, but he wasn't there either. He tried the oxygen but it was turned off.

—I didn't tell him you think he did it, or that I did it. I just told him you were mad because your dad is dead. He understood.

—He told me he was talking about seeing someone he hadn't saw in a long time before he died. Maybe he was hallucinating, you know, how people see dead relatives and stuff.

I trusted Uncle Reuben. He was the fun uncle. A crazy uncle. He took me and Elias out on day trips to watch him beat people up for money. He wouldn't have hurt my father, there was nothing in it for him to gain from doing that.

I sat back at the dining table, this time with a coffee as I continued to watch the hallway.

Leo appeared, first poking his head out. He saw me and flinched.

"Good morning," I called out.

"Morning," he said, walking out of the room. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"Can I—"

"Ask me a question," I finished for him. "Just ask me."

His eyes looked to the counter before looking back at me. "Do you do drugs?" He closed his mouth as his face became pinched with curiosity.

"There's a rule, don't get high on your own supply," I snickered. "No. I don't do—I don't do party drugs." I gestured to the counter where he must've left the bar of cocaine. "That was a gift for a friend we're meeting today."

"Oh. I'm sorry for looking."

"Don't be sorry, it's human nature to snoop, to investigate, to question," I said, tapping a finger on the dining table. "Grab some breakfast, we have another exciting day today."

Leo's face eased at my words. "You know I'd never tell anyone what you do, right?"

"I know that." But I wasn't sure if he meant I trusted him, or that felt threatened because his fingerprints were on a knife that had been used to kill a man with.

Pausing at the table, he looked lost for words. "Are you—are you going to kill anyone today?"

"Why?" I whispered. "Do you want me to kill someone?"

"No, I just—"

"We're going to visit someone who works at a public security firm, they control the public CCTV cameras," I said. "My contact there is private, but they will have the information I'm looking for. He is the one that gift was for."

"Do you always pay people with—that?"

I shook my head, looking him over as he grew in his confidence. "No. But people with dependencies and addictions, they're easy to buy. Money is good, but if you can give them what they want, right at the source, then that's even better." I lifted my cup of coffee and tipped my head at Leo. "Do you have any dependencies or addictions?" I sipped from the cup.

He turned and walked into the kitchen. It seemed like a sore subject. But in my findings of him, he didn't seem to have anything that stood out. Not like his kink did, although I didn't even know if it was a shared kink, or just a pleasure he experienced alone.

Leo sat back at the dining table with a bowl of chocolate cereal and milk. He wolfed it down without taking a moment to even notice the chocolate milk dribbling down his chin and catching on his onesie.

"Want me to get you a bib?" I asked as he paused to breathe.

"No, I'm—I'm just hungry."

I hadn't told him he couldn't eat, in fact, I assumed he would've made himself more at home here. And now that he had food in the cupboards, I wanted him to eat, to fill his belly and smile more.

"Our meeting is in a couple hours," I said. "I assume the clothes I gave you yesterday are still clean?"

He nodded.

"Good. I'll take you to my tailor this afternoon to get measured into something more fitted," I told him. "She'll have a couple suits ready for you by the end of the week. I'll leave the colour and pattern choices up to you. Of course, make it professional."

I assumed that's what he wanted, a little more choice and freedom. He could've left yesterday when I vaguely remembered seeing him standing outside the door, a handful of belongings. He didn't want to leave, and why would he? I had everything he could ever want or need right here, myself included.

"Thank you," he said, leaving the dining table with the bowl in hand.

"There's a dishwasher."

He looked completely confused by what I was saying.

"Leave it on the side," I continued. "I'll add it later."

Forcing a smile on his face, he nodded and left.

One day, that smile would be genuine, and I'd get to touch it, all of it.