Chapter 9
Constantine
When Enzo puts the gun away, I breathe a little easier, and my tense muscles relax.
But if he’s not going to kill me, is he going to call the cops?
He knows everything about me now. He could have me put away for life.
It doesn’t matter if I’m doing good for others.
The police and the law won’t see it that way.
I watch him pace, conflicted, frowning with clenched hands and a jaw. I’m trapped from doing anything else since I’m still handcuffed on the floor.
When I was first following him, all those times he sought me out, even when I was hidden from sight, showed how special he is. We’re connected. I can’t explain why or how, just that we are. It’s something I’ve never experienced before, and it leaves me in awe of him.
He beat me tonight, which was partly why I went into a panicked tailspin, but he was only defending himself. I understand that now. He wasn’t meant to die tonight or any night. I didn’t need to end his suffering. What he needs is revenge, not to die.
God, and the way he took care of me, cleaning my face, and he was so gentle about it. No one’s ever been… nice to me, not like Enzo. And he hadn’t hit me again. Not once. He’s not even angry anymore.
What makes him even more special is that I didn’t spiral again when I told him my story.
I thought I would, but it came out so easily.
Yes, Enzo and I are definitely connected.
I just know it. I even think he understands me, too.
He asked me questions about my pain, and he was angry when I told him how long Steve had hurt me.
His knowing my story makes him dangerous to me, but I don’t care.
We’re bound. We must be. There’s no other person who’s really seen me.
What I do is a good thing, but most people don’t understand that.
They only see the aftermath, not the process or the why.
They don’t see like Enzo does. He doesn’t tell me I’m wrong for what I do.
He doesn’t ridicule me or make fun of me.
Sure, he mistakenly called me a serial killer, but we fixed that.
Enzo also calms me. I stopped crying once I came to terms with the fact that he belongs to me, and I belong to him.
His face is so beautiful. The bruises are still there, but he’s not swollen anymore.
I’ve never been attracted to anyone like I am to Enzo.
I may be a little… off. I can feel disjointed sometimes, like I’m a square peg trying to fit into a round hole.
And I’m not very educated, but I know enough to understand that just because I’m attracted to him doesn’t mean he’s attracted to me.
Especially after my royal fuck up tonight.
God, I’d nearly killed him. Then, I almost killed him again because he’d recognized me. And I’m not a murderer, and I almost…
No, I didn’t kill him. It’s okay. It’s okay.
It’s Christmas Day now. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the rest of the year or how I’m going to handle it since I couldn’t save anyone.
When I set someone free, I can bear the rest of the holiday.
It’s not so bad, and I breathe again. This is my fate this year.
I have to accept the consequences of my mistake.
Enzo’s still pacing and mumbling as I watch him. I’m uncomfortable as hell. My face aches, my hands are going numb, and the metal chafes my wrists, but I don’t say anything. I don’t know what’s going to become of me, and I’m afraid to ask. What if he grabs his gun and kills me after all?
Blood still drips down my face from my brow and tickles my nose.
I sniff, which instantly draws his attention to me.
My heart stops for a moment when he rushes at me.
He grabs me and shoves me face down onto the floor.
I think I’m about to die, that he’s changed his mind.
Instead, he’s unlocking my cuffs and yanking me onto my feet, reminding me of his strength, and I’m not exactly weak.
I spent years getting strong after I killed Steve and Mom.
“Come on,” he grunts, unlocking his bedroom door, opening it, and tugging me toward the bathroom by the scruff of my hoodie after he flips on a light. He slams the toilet lid down and forces me to sit on it. “Don’t move.”
I stay still and quiet as I look around his bathroom, which is painted in navy blue with pale wood trim and white accents.
It’s really pretty. Masculine. There’s a faint hint of cologne that lingers, which smells similar to him.
I can’t even begin to describe what it smells like. Maybe peppery? Spicy?
My eyes are drawn to Enzo as he digs around in the cabinet under the sink.
He’s shirtless, still in his underwear, and I’m drawn to his muscles.
He has thick thighs, and his forearms have veins all over that I find attractive, but I’m not sure why.
He pulls out a red first-aid box and slams it on the counter as he grumbles, “What the fuck am I doing? I must be fucking nuts.”
My body does weird things to me. It’s electrified, and my stomach does this strange flipping.
I’m not sure what it means. I’ve had racing heart rates and stomach twists before, but not like this.
It feels different, like it’s not scary or bad.
It feels… I don’t want to say ‘good.’ It’s too unknown for that.
It’s definitely a warm feeling. Maybe hopeful?
Enzo gently grabs my face and moves it around as he inspects my injuries.
My skin is even more electrified by his touch, and I like it a lot.
My pain disappears as he cares for my face.
His dark brown eyes are scowling as much as his mouth is, but he’s careful not to hurt me.
When he lets go, he digs around in the kit, pulling out Steri-Strips, bandages, alcohol wipes, and ointment.
“It doesn’t look like anything’s broken, and you don’t seem to have a concussion.”
I’m still afraid to utter a word and break whatever thing is happening between us.
I’m in literal awe of him. Here I nearly killed him, and he’s about to take care of my wounds.
I can do it myself after years of beatings and never going to a hospital or seeing a doctor, let alone anyone taking care of me.
Enzo grabs a folded washcloth from a small basket on the counter and wets it with warm water in the sink. Then he dabs it around my eye, wiping away the blood before moving to my bottom lip.
I can’t take my eyes off him. I scan his beautiful face, noticing the bruising is more yellow, showing it’s going away.
He has a few small moles on one side of his face and a couple more on the other.
They’re so cute. There’s also a splash of freckles across his nose.
It would make him look sweet and innocent were it not for the hard lines in his face, furrowed brow, and his sharp, clenched jaw.
It’s like he’s angry at himself for taking care of me, yet he keeps doing it.
I like his black hair that falls over his thick brows, and I suddenly have the urge to run my fingers through it to see if it’s as silky as it looks, but I keep my hands still on my lap.
What I especially like are his dark brown eyes that are nearly black under long, black lashes. Fathomless. I could get lost in them forever. I bet in the right lighting, I could see my reflection in them—little black mirrors.
No, I’m not in awe of him. I’m absolutely obsessed.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words.
I swallow hard, not taking my eyes off him. “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
“Shut up!” he snaps.
“Okay. Sorry.”
He rolls his eyes and keeps running the cloth along my face to make sure all the blood is gone. My beard is a little matted from the dried blood there. He cleans that, too.
“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’m not Steve. 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 I make someone 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—”
“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. It needs to be on Christmas Eve.
What I really need is to have Enzo. He calms me in a strange and unexpected way. I have to have him. If he can love me back, I just know I 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.