Page 24 of The Silent Night Stalker
“No buts! Go home. Stay the fuck away from me.”
Before I can argue that we belong together, he slams the door in my face and locks it.
My shoulders droop as I step off his porch and head to where I parked my car. It’s a risk to drive, but it’s the holiday, so public transportation isn’t running this late. Instead of hiding my car, I’d parked it in the apartment complex a few blocks away. Being surrounded by other cars makes it more invisible.
As soon as I get in my car, I rest my head on the steering wheel. My body is shaking again. Now that I’m out of Enzo’s presence, my anxiety is skyrocketing again. What am I going to do? I keep asking myself this, but it’s too late to do anything. I can’t risk finding someone else. Not on Christmas Day. Itneedsto be on Christmas Eve.
What I really need is to have Enzo. He calms me in a strange and unexpected way. Ihaveto have him. If he can love me back, I justknowI can get through the rest of the year.
Now that I’ve come to some sort of decision and a plan forms in my head, I calm down a bit. My heart is still beating a hundred miles a minute, but my hands stop shaking, and I breathe easier.
The sun slowly starts to rise on the overcast morning as I start the car and drive home to make plans and to find out where Enrique lives… or used to live. His house will give me insight into who he is. Then, to find his killer.
It’s a new day.
A new start and a new life.
Chapter 10
Enzo
It’sthedayafterChristmas, and I haven’t been able to shake my encounter with an actual fucking serial killer. That wasnoton my bingo card of life. And what an odd fucking bird he was. Who the hell becomes a serial killer for a good cause? Is it a good cause? Fuck no. That guy’s insane. He’s gotta be. Strangely, I feel sorry for him. He’s become his stepfather, and he doesn’t even realize it.
I couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous he was with those huge blue eyes that seemed almost innocent, especially when his fallen bangs were swept over his brows. When I first saw him in the bar, I felt the same way, but without his little disguise, he’s more attractive. Too bad he’s got more than a few screws loose in that brain of his. But, fuck, I can’t really blame him either after that story he told me. When you’re abused for so long, it’s hard not to lose a part of yourself. At least I had someone to lean on.
“Enzo!” Mario snaps, yanking my attention back to my job.Jesus. I really needed to get that little crazy bird out of my head. “Bring one of the gun cases over here.”
We’re dealing some fully automatic rifles and sawed-off shotguns to a cartel out of Mexico today. The meeting place is being held inan abandoned underground parking garage. For obvious reasons, we never use the same place twice.
“Yes, sir,” I say and walk to the back of the SUV to pull out one of several crates of guns. I heft one over to Mario and several other hard-looking men.
I set the box down and pry open the lid with a crowbar before stepping back. That is the extent of my job. Mostly, I’m there for backup. Sometimes I do the dealing, but Mario is better at it. He’s also second in command. If something happens to Alfonzo, Mario Rivera will be next in line to lead.
The leader of the cartel bends down and lifts a rifle, feeling the weight of it, and then he raises it eye level, aiming it at the graffiti-covered wall.
“There are five M1918 Browning automatic rifles, ten M16s, and five sawed-off shotguns of various types,” Mario explains.
“How much for all?” the other man asks, placing the rifle back into the crate.
“Nine hundred thousand and I’ll throw in free ammo.”
“Free ammo and six hundred.”
And so the negotiations went on until they agreed on seven hundred and fifty thousand with free ammo.
When it’s over and the crates are being transferred to their vehicles, Mario grips me on the shoulder. “What’s up with you, man? You’re out of it. Is it Enrique?”
That’s only part of it, but I don’t tell him about Constantine. He’ll only tell Alfonzo, who will then hunt Constantine down. I still haven’t figured out why I give a shit. Who cares if Alfonzo takes him out? The asshole tried to kill me, and he’s killed many others, for fuck’s sake.
But I do care. He’s been through hell and back. I get it. I relate to it. Not that I’m fucking innocent. I don’t murder, but I’m still a criminal. I help sell weapons thatdokill others.
I look at Mario, who’s thirty, a year older than me. His hair is curly, set in waves below his chin, which complements his face, a third of which had been burned when he was a child after a rival gang torched his childhood home. It hardens his look.
“Yeah, Enrique’s death is hitting hard.”
“We’re all upset.”
“I just wish we’d find out who did it.”
