Page 102 of Natural-Born Cullers

“Not surprised you’re tired.” Simon dipped his head to look out of the window his side. “That’s been a lot of brain work and underhand dealings going on under Gray that nearly got us all killed.”

Martin levelled a look. “Aww, bless. Is that you disappointed I whispered in Light’s ear, or that Light stepped in close to whisper… not in yours?”

Always amazed him how shocked players were at being played at this level. Came with the territory, and it was all about territory. But then most players were only really happy when they thought they were topping.

Simon slowed a little more and looked out of Martin’s window. “I’ve played a lot of games,” he said into the darkness. “I’ve won most of them, then hacked IP addresses when I’ve lost and made life hell. Pushing buttons goes with the job. Don’t push mine, Martin. Light?” He shook his head. “It’s not a game when it comes to him.”

Martin eased forward and wiped at his screen with the cuff of his jumper. “And that, right there, might just be your one saving grace,” he said flatly as he watched the street for any early morning streakers. “I love how Piper can lead most into the night, then stumble and fall over exactly what to do with them in that darkness when it comes to the… complexities of adulthood. Too many think they have all the answers, especially when it comes to sex and using it as a weapon. You’re no psychopath. You don’t play games when it comes to sex and using it beyond getting him to stay in your bed.” He offered Simon a smile. “You wanna talk buttons? Don’t push mine when it comes to him. Don’t prick my interest over playing profiler withyou over why you’d rather join the cullers despite not being one of them. I don’t need any Internet connection or hand holding from MI5 and beyond to work out your flaws. So you just carry on staying soft around Light, because it’s the only thing keeping you alive at this point, right?”

That focus back on the road ahead didn’t do him any favours, and Martin snorted. Sometimes all you needed was the strike of a single match to watch the entire forest burn down under the pressure. Simon had wanted to join the cullers for a reason, only he was too damn quiet over why. He’d strived too hard to drop his own personality and be a Gray wannabe. And the issue with wanting to be someone else meant he thought there was something wrong with who he was at the core. Usually the psychopath struggled with fitting in, but like Jan, as a normal in a pack of the viciously abnormal, Simon was outnumbered. Fear came with looking back, but it also seemed to come with looking forward, so he kept his attention firmly on the road in front of him, the one path he could manipulate. He ignored Martin, but his quiet seemed to ask that Martin ignore him too.

So long as Simon stayed focus on Light in that rush, that was fine by him. He was too half stoned from his own offer of a friendly hand to Light to really focus too much, and he glanced at the dashboard.

5:10 a.m.

Christ.

As he rubbed at an eye, Simon checked apartments, and easing back, Martin tapped the windows screen. “Past Woodlands Park. 5257, my side. Just up ahead.”

Simon fell quiet and pulled into a parking space as Martin narrowed his eyes at the night outside.

St Ann’s homed the more rundown homes of London. A mix of red-brick terraced houses in tight formation played Simon’s side, shops in need of bringing into the 21stcentury and more modern apartments sat on his own. The slimness of the twenty-mile-an-hour road forced most cars into giving way to oncoming traffic, but the street looked a lot like Jack’s old, terraced home.

Maybe an accidental similarity when he’d chosen this apartment. Or maybe not. He really missed the freedom of the London backstreets around Jack’s.

Did Jack ever miss it? All his youth lived out in the street?

Martin closed his eyes as he let his head rest back.

Here, the garage, Gray’s, the MC… Jack had this wicked smile in the photos around Gray’s studio that Jan kept adding to. He seemed to naturally fit in most places… until it went balls up.

And so much had gone balls up over the years for him.

Martin frowned, and Simon shifted, wiping a rag at his window.

“You see the car you rented for him?” asked Simon.

“If I did, I’d be somewhat disappointed he left his car somewhere in the open where it could be spotted by you, don’t you think?”

Simon gave a rough sigh, and Martin buried a small smile. Light learned fast, too damn fast. But give Simon his dues, he wasn’t exactly… dumb either.

Simon pulled something from the glovebox, forcing Martin to crack an eye open.

“Heat sensor.” Simon didn’t look up as he flicked it on. “Modern homes are more cardboard than brick these days. Makes all this a little easier. Body heat will let me know exactly where he is.”

Yeah, Simon played dumb to be avoided, but he was far from that.

Martin flicked a look at the ground floor apartment. Like those that stood empty, lights were off, curtains open, showing no sign of life, let alone any warmth. His three-storey apartment block was lost in a horseshoe mix of so many others, and the vacant stares from the windows said few people seemed to stay and play around here. But then he’d gathered Light wouldn’t want the attention of neighbours either.

“Basement.” Simon messed with the digits, sharpening the image. A kettle had just boiled, showing an orange outline as steam escaped from it. Not far from that, hands… face… sometimes the flash of a neck gave Light away, although the tribal scarf seemed to mask most of the heat from his head. “He’s up. Working on something too.”

Martin eased back down. “Well, the kid loves his hot chocolate before bed.”

“Yeah. You order that in for him as well?”

“Don’t be a sad ass. There’s no charm in it.” Martin closed his eyes again. “You ever watch people fuck on that thing?”

Simon snorted at the change in topic.

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