Page 35 of Leo, My Partner

We weave around those in the way, Leo nodding at a harried-looking Hispanic man behind the counter who’s trying to take and relay orders to a petite Black woman working with him.

Leo pushes through the door behind the counter and leads me back to the same office he asked me out in. My face heats as I think about how he looked at me while he was bandaging my hand. He still looks at me that way, like he wants to get me dirty and clean me up when he’s finished with me.

When we step inside, the man I talked to on the phone about my serial killer boyfriend looks up from a stack of papers. June smiles at Leo but absolutely beams at me. “Oh my God! It’s nice to meet you in person.” He ducks under Leo’s outstretched arm and gives me an awkward hug, careful not to jostle the load I’m carrying. “How are you?”

“Good. Really good.” I hold up the boxes in my hands and show them to him like a weirdo. “Got cupcakes. Leo and I made them this morning. He’s an amazing sous chef. Didn’t complain once. That’s important when you’re baking, if someone is helping. They have to take your directions so whatever they’re working with doesn’t get fucked up. He almost put too much salt in the cookies earlier. Would have been a disaster for everyone who tasted one.” My eyes widen, and I clamp my mouth shut. It’s one thing to babble all over Leo, but June doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know my weird. He probably thinks I’m a lunatic that has to blab everything he’s thinking.

Instead of giving me a dry, bored look, he’s smiling at me. “Oh, you’re perfect. I see what you mean, Leo.” June relieves me of my load and tucks them under his arms. “Are there more boxes? I know we discussed fifty of the cookies, cupcakes, and Danishes.”

I nod. “Yes. There are more in the trunk. Only cupcakes. The Danishes and cookies are all packed in their own boxes.” I point to the boxes Leo has in his hands. “The cupcakes had to be packed separately so I wouldn’t ruin the icing. It’s homemade.”

June smiles. “Leo told me. Can I eat one before I set them out? I love red velvet cupcakes.”

“Please,” I say, gesturing to the ones he’s holding in his hands.

He helps Leo and I bring in the rest of the cupcakes and set them in the office. June informs me he’s going to display them tomorrow when he opens since the morning rush has already happened. “These will be great for a sugar rush in the morning to go along with the coffee,” he mentions absently as he pulls the paper from the cupcake he snagged and bites into it. His groan makes me smile so hard my cheeks hurt. “Fucking hell, Tyshawn. These are amazing. You said they’re homemade?”

“Yes. They’re actually not that hard to make when you get used to the recipe. I can teach you if you want.” I fight hard to cut off any rambling before it begins so I don’t annoy him. I like June and want us to be friends. He won’t want to be friends with me if I word vomit all over him.

“I’d love that. How about tomorrow, if you’re free?”

Leo interjects. “Can’t. We’ll be out of town.” He shuts the door, then leans against it. “Ty wants to …” He makes a gesture around his neck, as if he’s cutting his own throat. “We found him in Virginia. He wants to get started as soon as possible, which is tonight.”

June’s eyes grow wide. “Your first?” he asks me, and I nod. “Bad guy?”

Wrapping my arms around myself, I nod again. “He raped my best friend, and she killed herself.”

His eyes soften, and he sets his cupcake down, walking over to give me a long hug. He pulls back and meets my eyes. “I’m glad you’re taking out the trash then. Well, when you return, I’d love to learn to make these cupcakes. Blu would love them.”

Leo and June talk more about how long he’ll be gone and about their business, then we take our leave. We get in Leo’s car, and he pulls onto the interstate, driving us north into Virginia. Nerves thrum through me, but I swallow them down. This needs to be done. Michael doesn’t deserve many more sunrises.

I’ll make sure he doesn’t get them.

Two hours later, we’re pulling into the parking lot of the hotel we reserved, and Leo checks us in. He told me to stay back and wait for him, just in case something happens and someone gets a good look at me. Having two different colored eyes is a feature that stands out in people’s minds, making it easy for witnesses to recall. I’m glad he thought of that because I would have waltzed up to the counter and had to thank someone who complimented my irises.

Instead of waiting until the morning, we drop our bags off in our room and drive the thirty minutes to Michael’s job. Over the next few days, Leo and I sit and watch his routine, to see if he does the same things every day or if he’s spontaneous.

“Spontaneity is good,” Leo told me the second day we were sitting in the car, watching Michael’s home. “If he had a routine and didn’t show up for something, he’ll be found quicker. Doing things differently all the time makes it harder to keep track of him.”

Michael is single, so we don’t have to worry about a partner wanting him to come to their place or anything. He doesn’t have pets, so no fear of him not feeding them and a nosey neighbor coming to check shit out. As far as we can tell, he’s a loner, has very few friends, and from what I remember, his family cut him off after he was found guilty, even though he got a short sentence. Leo said he’s the best kind of kill because of his self-imposed isolation.

After Leo and I have his routine down—as sparse as it is—we find an abandoned building to take him to. That’s the hardest part. Since we’re not familiar with the area, it’s difficult to know what buildings the unhoused may squat in to have a roof over their heads and stay out of the elements. It takes us three nights to find the perfect location—an apartment building that’s condemned, scheduled for demolition the next day. It’s risky, but we know there won’t be anyone there, for fear they’ll get caught in the demo.

“Okay,” Leo mutters after he gets what he calls his kill kit together. His cleaning kit is already loaded in the back of the car. “Are you ready?”

I look at myself in the mirror again, taking in the clothes Leo suggested I wear—a black cap that’s pulled over my hair, a black long-sleeved shirt that hugs my chest and covers all exposed skin to just below my wrists, a pair of black cargo pants that are snug but comfortable, and a heavy-duty pair of boots. I look like a badass.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Leo is dressed similarly, hot as fuck in black from head to toe. It makes his blue-green eyes shine bright. I’m sure they’re also bright because he gets to kill tonight. Leo told me he enjoys the kill, and whenever he described one to me, his eyes would take on this luminous quality.

Nodding, I pull the cap lower on my head. “I’m ready. Tell me the plan again.”

“I already disabled the cameras in the hallway, so we can leave without anyone seeing us. You’ll drive to Michael’s house, making sure to stay just at or a little over the speed limit. I’ll go in, drug him, and bring him outside. His neighbors are in bed by ten and have no outside cameras, so we’re good there. When I get him outside and in the trunk, you’ll drive to the apartment building and set everything up in the room we have ready for him. I’ll come in with him, and we can get started.” Leo steps up to me, rubbing my cheek gently. “You can handle this, kotenok. I know you can.”

“I can handle it, Leo. I just don’t want to disappoint you.” Leo is used to killing people, working at his own pace. Then here I come, asking him to take someone out for me, then changing my mind to say I’ll do it, probably wrecking his entire process. I should have just let him handle things himself, doing his process how he does and asking him to tell me about it when he was finished. What was I thinking, wanting to see or, in my case, commit a murder?

“Come back to me, kotenok,” Leo whispers just before he kisses me softly. I kiss him back desperately, hoping to borrow some of his calm. “You won’t disappoint me. Follow my instructions, and it’ll be fine.” He smiles big, his dimples popping, making me swoon. “This is my kitchen.”

An unexpected laugh leaves my throat. God, he’s fucking perfect. It’s not even startling when I realize I’m falling for him, hard and fast. But that’s a conversation for another day. “Okay, it’s your kitchen. I can do it.”

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