Page 23 of The Silent Night Stalker
“No one’s ever taken care of me before,” I say, ignoring his demand. The thought makes my eyes water. I forget how lonely life can be sometimes.
“Jesus. You sure are fucking sensitive for a ser…”
Being called a serial killer fills me with rage. I’mnotSteve. I don’t care if the media calls me the Silent Night Stalker. But when they call me a killer, I want to scream at them that I’m not doing this out of malice or to find pleasure. Enzo doesn’t say the words, though. He stops himself. He knows it upset me, so he’s careful. Why does that make my heart so full of… something? It’s happiness. It’s pleasant, whatever it is. Love?
Yeah, I think I’m in love, though I’m not entirely sure what that feels like. All I know is that I want to make him mine. I’m consumed by it. He probably wouldn’t want me that way. No one ever does. But what if I can convince him? Can Imakesomeone love me?
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Shut up,” he says again, so I do.
Once my face is clean and dry, he adds ointment to my cuts.
“You’re done bleeding, so I don’t think you need any bandages. Just keep them clean and air-dried.”
“Okay.”
He’s so nice. I may have been wrong in choosing to help him on Christmas Eve, but I know I’m right that he’s an angel. God never answered my prayers until he let me find that gun. Steve had left it out while messing with me that night. He set it down, got drunk, and passed out. His gift had been sitting there on the worn coffee table, mocking me. I threw it away before the cops found it, not daring to look inside.
Now God is giving me Enzo. There’s no way I’d let go of this beautiful gift. I know in time, Enzo will see it, too.
He leans against the counter and folds his thick arms over his chest, staring at me. I’m staring too, because I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Go home, Constantine.”
He still doesn’t call me Arthur, respecting my boundaries. This is too much to process. It’s hard to grasp kindness. Sure, people at the liquor store were cool sometimes, but not like this, not like Enzo.
I look down at my hands, fidgeting with them, not wanting to leave, but I’m afraid that if I don’t go, he’ll hurt me again. How do I make someone mine? Or convince him he’s mine? I’ve never had a person before, so I’m clueless. What if I brought him a gift? Maybe I could find his brother’s killer. Would he love me then? We could kill him together. If I gave Enzo his revenge, he’d love me back, right?
My heart races again, filled with excitement. Yes! This will be my secret. I’ll surprise him. But how do I find this murderer?
“Why aren’t you leaving?” he growled at me.
I look up and try to find my words. I finally blurt, “You think the Da Costas killed your brother?”
“Why?” Wariness tinges his voice.
“Tell me.”
He sighs and runs his hands through his hair, exposing a smooth forehead. “Yeah, they’ve been a pain in our asses. They’ve been targeting some of our people and encroaching on our territory. They’ve even burned a couple of warehouses full of our shit, but none have been bold enough to kill until now. It’s the only lead I got.”
Enzo stood straight, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to stand. “Go. Home.”
“Why are you being so nice? Why didn’t you call the cops?”
He huffs irritably and shakes his head. “Because I’m fuckin’ nuts. But don’t test me. If you don’t leave my sight, I’m gonna change my mind.”
We head toward the front of the house, and suddenly we stop as he looks at the kitchen door window where I’d cut the glass and unlocked the door.
“You’re fuckin’ paying for that.”
“Okay.” I don’t mind because it means I get to see him again.
He growls again and leads me to the front door, unlocks it, opens it, and shoves me outside.
“You get to leave because of my good graces. I don’t want to see you again. You hear me?”
“But—”
