Page 52 of The Hunted
Life and death were inevitable, and yet, Santino found most people thought they were invincible from it until faced with it.
“You can’t think a woman did this.” Martin commented. “Don’t women usually have a gentler touch?”
Santino snorted, remembering his guardian. She had enjoyed getting her hands dirty but not before she deployed a less messy tactic to subdue her marks. She had zero issues hacking into a body that was no longer living but wasn’t much for doing it before the heart stopped. The only time she ever engaged was when she was teaching him.
“Don’t tell me you don’t think a woman could inflict that kind of damage,” Santino responded as they headed toward their parked cars. “That’s a little sexist. Women are far more capable of things like this than they get credit for.”
Silva’s mismatched eyes flashed in his mind and his body vibrated. He was growing accustomed and addicted to the way his body reacted at the mere thought of her. His palms itched to touch her again. He was eager to taste her and find new ways to pry answers to his questions out of her. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to her.
Santino: Hope you slept well, princess.
He didn’t wait for a response, knowing he’d be glued to her once she responded. He still hadn’t figured out where this need for her came from but it was intoxicating. It rivaled his need to kill, and maybe that’s why he kept engaging with her and wanted her like he’s never wanted anyone or anything before.
“It’s not that,” Martin grumbled. “Statistically speaking, how many serial or spree killers are there that are women?”
Not many.Santino thought but that’s only because if they were out there, they hadn’t been caught.
“Not many because their violence isn’t loud. They’re calculating and quiet and go undetected. Does anything about our unsub, the Poet, go undetected?”
Yes.Santino fought his smile.The Poet was the Reaper and no one figured that out yet.
“Let’s say you’re right. How does the blond we found on Route 160 fit into all of this?” Santino questioned, curious to see where Martin’s thinking was going.
He thought the man had nothing but hot air between his ears, but there was a sharpness to his eyes now that made Santino wonder what type of pillow talking went on between him and Amra. If his so-called friend was going to watch him or pump him for information to give back to Amra.
“That’s the only outlier, though, that can change once we get information on her. The other vics had all been accused of assault of a minor, except for Denise Miller. Which I’m sure once I get to the office I can confirm she got our vics off or her firm did.” Martin took another sip of his coffee. “This has to be revenge killing.”
That would be predictably boring.Santino had to focus to keep from rolling his eyes. He had the same thought in the beginning, but he knew it wasn’t revenge, at least not against the VICs. It was against him, though he hadn’t figured out why or from who.
“Don’t leave me, okay?”
Santino hid a wince behind another sip of coffee. There was that voice again. It belonged to the little kid he kept seeing in his mind. The one who always talked and was with a kid who didn’t. He had no clue who they were because he never saw their faces and it was frustrating him.
“Mijo, you have no memories about your time before coming to me?”
He shook his head. It was blissfully quiet and empty when he tried to think about his life before this became his home. “Should I?”
His guardian tilted her head to the side, examining him like a bug under a microscope. She used to do that a lot when he first came to her and it unnerved him. It felt like she was waiting for him to strike out at her and was ready to snap his neck before he could.
“You should, mijo. You’re thirteen already. That’s a whole lifetime for a kid to forget. But before you ask, when you came to me you had no family left, and no one you were close with in the other families. We can check if you want.”
He shook his head and continued doodling in his notebook. He had no use of his past when his future seemed so much brighter and steadier. He had a purpose he enjoyed. “Can we go hunt? I want to try again.”
Why hadn’t he wanted to find out more about his past when he was younger?
Because I thought I knew better.
Young Santino had a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to his guardian. He didn’t think he could do that if he focused on his past. But she should have pushed. Shouldn’t she have wanted to know what type of kid she was taking into her home?
She had known.
“We should get a list.” Martin’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He made a mental note to go through the belongings of hers he kept. He wasn’t sentimental in the least, but sometimes when her voice was the faintest in his mind, he liked to touch her things and read her handwriting. It connected him back to his center, back to who she had molded him into.
“A list? For what?” He tried to keep up with this conversation, hoping it would end. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he itched to see what Silva sent him. He hadn’t seen her in a couple of hours, and it felt like he’d been away from her for too long.
The gnawing in his stomach felt similar to when he’d gone too long without hunting, but it was different. It felt less all-consuming, but there was a deeper hollowness that crept up slowly. It gave a falsehood that he had nothing to worry about but knew if it went unchecked, it would swallow him whole.
He really need to figure out his attraction to Silva Hunt before it turned into something he had no control over and left him or her open to the Reaper’s whims.
