Page 50 of The Hunted
Santino was looking at his partner with new eyes. He could have sworn he had him pegged. The booming voice, the needing to be the center of attention, and doing the bare minimum at work. He was the good-time goof. The self-appointed life of the party who didn’t care for much past his own self-interest.
But Santino should have known better.
Everyone wore a mask and played the role they were put into.
It kept people out and was seen as a matter of survival. It was also easier to hide in plain sight that way.
“It doesn’t bother you?” The question slipped before he could rephrase it.
“We’re standing in the middle of a crime scene talking about the women in our life. You’re going to have to be a little more specific.” Martin took a sip of his coffee, his left eye twitching. Was his coffee bitter or was that some sort of tell? Had he done that with the first sip of coffee?
Fuck, this is going to make me watch him more closely now.
“That she fucked you as either a means to get closer to me or as a substitution for me?” It wasn’t that Santino had believed that was the case initially. He thought whatever issues Amra had with him had stemmed from her subconscious seeing him for exactly what he was, while fighting her attraction to him.
Most women had the ability to tell when a man was a threat. Whether they listened to that instinct initially was a different variable. After all, statistically speaking, men were women’s natural predators.
“I’d have to want her for more than a quick fuck for it to bother me.” Martin leaned in. “And you and I both know I love pussy too much to only have one. Besides, we’re friends. Friends look out for each other and run interference when needed. I’m sure with Silva staking her claim last night, we don’t have anything to worry about.” He nodded toward the scene behind them. “Well, except for Amra trying to find a way to connect this to you.” He waved a hand around the fairgrounds. “We get ID on the vic yet?”
The switch in conversation gave Santino whiplash, but he took a sip of the coffee to center himself. He had kept Martin in a neat little category in his mind and this conversation shifted how he fit in said category. “No ID yet.” Santino murmured, watching the way his partner’s left eye kept twitching.
It was going to bother him that he missed something about his partner because he had never taken him seriously.
“Mijo, you can never let your guard down. You might think you’re the smartest in the room, but there will always be someone smarter than you—someone who is paying attention when you think they’re not.” His guardian dropped the animal carcass on the body he’d just finished burying.
His own body ached. He’d been under the sun all morning long in long sleeves, jeans, and gloves. The summer humidity making him hotter. There was no real shade, even under the trees they used for coverage. He wanted this morning over with but knew once they were done here, there were things around the house he needed to fix for her because while he was getting older, so was she.
“And once we put the animal down…,” she prompted.
Santino let out a sigh and began throwing more dirt over the corpse.Today was another lesson in burying bodies. With each physical lesson came one for his mind as well. “We add more dirt and plant an endangered flower or plant to keep curious eyes out.”
She clapped. “Good. Now back to my earlier point. It’s those you think who can’t see more than their own self-interest are the ones who usually can see the entire room without notice. You must protect yourself. Our intelligence makes us confident, but it’s a slippery slope into arrogance, and that’s when things get dangerous for us.”
Santino paused his shoveling. “Will there be others like us out there?” His curiosity finally made him ask the question he’d been dying to ask since they started these lessons. He always felt like he had left something behind. When it was time for his guardian to die, he wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of being alone.
“Of course, mijo. There are others like us with their own reasoning and style, but we rarely ever cross paths. If we do, it means death. One always has to submit to the other.”
Ishould have left when I had the chance.
The Reaper felt stuck, surrounded by local PD and FBI. They lingered too long at the scene and had stumbled upon teens that looked too hungover to make the connection, but one had glanced over their shoulder, and the Reaper knew it was time to put their acting skills to good use. They made the teens call it in. In the madness they had been able to slink away, but not far enough to not get questioned by the local PD.
They were in the clear, but thenheshowed up, looking smug and all too proud of himself at the scene he attempted to stage. They stuck around, curious to see how Santino Alvarez handled himself. How many of these had he had to report to and give an opinion on when he knew exactly what happened?
Did he have a slip up and give a too accurate detail of howthe killerhad done it?
Did it drive him a little crazy when they made assumptions about him that were hits to his ego?
The Reaper smirked.Probably.
The note Santino left felt heavy in their pocket. How easy would it be to step from the shadows and surprise him and those around him with the truth? They could blow this whole thing up right now, but the Reaper wasn’t going down with him, not after everything. They had been burned because of Santino once; no way was it happening again.
This downfall would be all about Santino Alvarez or, as they had known him, Saint Alonso.
“Don’t leave me, okay?”
Saint nodded, pointing to the dirt beneath his feet and then to his chest.
Saint had never verbally spoken, according to their foster parents it was because he was stupid and slow, but they both knew that wasn’t true. Saint was the smartest person in this hellhole, and he knew how to communicate just fine. You just needed to know how to listen.
