I like the cabin that he and his dead brother built with their hands.
Most of all, I like the time I have to think.
I never did much of it before, not really. I studied and worked and spent any free time in front of a screen, distracting myself. Deadening my feelings.
Some people eat when they’re depressed. Some people drink, or do drugs, or have sex with strangers. The way I dealt with emotional pain was by feeding myself a steady diet of social media and video games and pretending it wasn’t there.
It seems so obvious now.
I was lonely.
In a city of nearly a million people, I always felt alone.
But here, in the middle of nowhere with only a crow and a killer for company, I don’t feel alone.
I feel safe.
I feel content.
I feel, some days, like that bullet was the best thing to ever happen to me.
“I’ll be gone overnight.”
I look up from my scrambled eggs. Mal sits across the table from me, looking at his plate, pushing food around on it with his fork.
“Overnight?”
He nods. “I’m leaving right after breakfast.”
“Okay.”
He glances up at me. In the morning light, he’s breathtaking. His pale eyes are the color of fine jade.
“How’s your pain?”
I smile. He asks me the same thing every morning. “Pretty much gone, unless I try to lift something.”
His dark brows draw together into a frown. “Why would you try to lift something? You should ask me.”
That makes me smile wider. “It’s good for me to push myself.”
His frown deepens to a scowl. “No, it’s not. You could get hurt.”
I hold his gaze for a beat, then say softly, “Bending over to pick something up isn’t nearly as dangerous as what you do.”
“I’m a professional. You’re injured. They’re two completely different things.”
His tone is tight. I inspect his face for a moment. It’s tight, too, as are his shoulders.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Since when do you lie to me?”
He snaps, “Since I’m your kidnapper.”
He’s in a foul mood, but I don’t know what set him off. I put my fork down, lean back in my chair, and take him in.
“Stop staring at me.” He shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
“Why are you upset, Mal?”
“I’m not.”
He chews angrily. I can practically hear him crushing his molars together.
“Okay. Except you are. Did I do something?”
He swallows, looking at me with blazing eyes and a set jaw. “Why haven’t you asked me to take you home?”
This again. As if I have a logical answer. “Would you if I did?”
That seems to make him even angrier. “That wasn’t my question.”
“I know. It was mine.”
He stares at me, breathing audibly. Looking as if he’s only controlling himself through a great deal of willpower, he says, “Spider is still in Moscow.”
Startled by the news, I remain silent.
“I saw him. I drugged him. I threatened to kill him if he didn’t leave. He stayed anyway. Do you know what that means?”
My heart jumps into my throat. I put my hand over my chest and stare at him in horror. “You drugged him? Why?”
Mal shakes his head in frustration and ignores my question. “It means he won’t leave without you, even though he’s risking his life. He doesn’t care that he’s risking his life, understand?”
He’s trying to make a point, but I don’t know what it is. “That’s his job. He risks his life all the time, on Declan’s orders.”
“I don’t think this was Declan’s doing. I think it was his own decision. And I think there’s a lot more than guilt motivating him.”
“My head is spinning. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying why the fuck are you not begging me to take you to Spider right now and let him take you home? He’s your friend, according to you. I suspect he wants to be much more than that. He’s from your world. He’s part of your family. He cares for you. Yet here you sit, with me. Why?”
I look at his beautiful face. I look at his beautiful eyes. I think of all the ways this killer has proven himself to be so much more than that. All the ways he’s denied himself what he wants, including—so far—revenge for the murder of his brother.
And the truth just comes out.
“Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”