Chapter 3 #3
Kota nodded, not sure at all why he was trauma dumping on this stranger.
Maybe because Walker listened in a way most people didn’t.
Or maybe it was the fact he’d almost been murdered mere hours ago.
“Crazy, right? I guess it’s a testament to how stupid I really am.
Two kidnappers, two murderers. Though, I guess Early kidnapped me, too. God, maybe my mother was right.”
“How old were you the first time?” Walker asked.
“Four…maybe five? It’s weird how time all blurs together the older I get. I wasn’t even in kindergarten, yet.”
“That’s…well, shit,” Walker said, shaking his head, seemingly at a loss for words. “I don’t know exactly what that is other than awful.”
Something about seeing Walker speechless was oddly validating.
“He only kept me for a few days,” Kota said, unable to stop himself from talking. “Was weirdly…polite about it all. For a child predator, I mean. He made me do things to him, but he didn’t—” He dropped his voice to a barely-there whisper. “—fuck me or anything, so that’s something, I guess.”
Kota blinked rapidly, eyes feeling almost sticky, probably from a lack of any real sleep for days. Or maybe because saying this out loud still made something ugly twist inside him.
Did it sound like he was defending the man’s actions? He wasn’t. He just needed Walker to understand that it could have been worse, that he wasn’t a perpetual victim. That he knew others had it way worse than him.
He’d heard it his whole life growing up. He wasn’t special. Other people had suffered more. Other people deserved sympathy more than he did.
He didn’t want to think too hard about why Walker’s opinion mattered.
“Maybe that’s why it fucked me up for so many years.
If he had physically hurt me more, scarred me, ruined me in any way people could see that they could quantify, maybe I would have felt less guilty about turning him in.
” Walker’s booted foot against his thigh was comforting at that moment.
Solid. Heavy. Dangerous, but safe in a way Kota didn’t fully understand.
“When I saw him in court, he looked hurt, like he couldn’t believe I had betrayed him. Crazy, right?”
Even now, part of him hated admitting that. Like there was something fundamentally wrong with him for feeling guilty.
“He sounds like he got what he deserved,” Walker said diplomatically.
His tone stayed even, but something colder flickered beneath it for just a second. The expression vanished so quickly Kota almost thought he imagined it. Almost.
“I don’t know why he was so upset about getting caught,” Kota mumbled. “It was his fourth offense, and he did less than six months.”
Walker’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly once more. For a second, Kota got the distinct impression Walker was imagining exactly what he would have done in that situation.
“People suck,” Walker said with a shrug. “The courts suck worse.”
“Do you—” Kota cut himself off, trying to gather his thoughts.
His pulse had sped up again. This felt like dangerous territory, but then again, everything about Walker felt dangerous.
“Do you kill people because you like it or because you, like…need to kill people? Is—Is it—what do they call it?—a compulsion?”
Walker held his gaze for a long moment, and for the first time since they’d sat down, Kota couldn’t quite read what was going on behind his eyes.
“Are you asking if I’m a serial killer?” Walker asked, tone once more laced with amusement, like Kota was funny without even trying.
Kota sighed heavily. “Yeah…I guess I am.”
His mouth went dry when Walker leaned in, propping his chin on his palm to look at him.
The movement was lazy, almost catlike, but there was something intensely focused in the way his eyes settled on Kota.
Like the rest of the diner had faded into the background and Kota was the only thing worth paying attention to. “Still worried I’m going to kill you?”
“Probably not as much as I should be,” Kota admitted, mirroring his pose. “But I would feel better if you had a code or something. Like you don’t kill women and children. You know, Dexterish.”
“Dexter killed women. And so do I,” Walker said, studying Kota’s face in a way that made him feel like his insides were sweating. “But I don’t kill innocent people, and I certainly wouldn’t kill a child.”
“Because you have a moral compass?” Kota asked hopefully.
“No. Because there’s no thrill in killing innocent people,” Walker volunteered, moving away from him enough for Kota to suck in a much-needed breath.
The extra space should have made him feel better. Instead, he found himself irrationally disappointed.
“Thrill?” he asked, sounding strangled.
“There’s no sport in killing innocent people.”
“Sport?” Kota parroted, blinking at him owlishly.
Every answer somehow made Walker more terrifying but no less attractive. That probably said something deeply concerning about Kota, but nothing dozens of people hadn’t said before.
“Yeah. To me, killing harmless people is like those rich guys who game hunt on preserves where the guides just drive them up to some poor animal and let them kill it so they can pose for a picture.”
“So, you don’t kill innocent people because it’s no fun?” Kota clarified, again finding that both unnerving and irrationally fucking hot.
Nobody would ever come near Kota again with Walker around. The realization settled low and heavy in his chest, disturbingly comforting. It should have frightened him that the thought felt comforting at all.
Walker made a noise in the affirmative. “Let’s just say I find it…unsportsmanlike.”
“Unsportsmanlike,” Kota repeated, liking the way the large word felt on his tongue.
“Yeah, I’m not one for life on easy mode.” He met Kota’s gaze. “I like a challenge.”
The look he gave Kota made heat crawl up the back of his neck. Walker’s hand slid surreptitiously across the table to brush his thumb across his knuckles.
Kota swallowed audibly, breath hitching at the feel of Walker’s skin on his own. “I think you’ll find I’m pretty easy.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them, embarrassingly honest. For one horrifying second, he considered diving under the table and never coming back out.
Walker dipped his head, hand retreating. “Well, luckily, I don’t plan on killing you,” he said. “I already told you. I don’t kill innocent people.”
“Nobody would call me innocent,” Kota said softly. “Stupid, but not innocent.”
Walker chuckled warmly at that. “You’re so innocent I feel like I’m taking advantage of you just sitting here,” he admitted.
The words should have sounded insulting. Somehow, they didn’t.
“What does that mean?” Kota asked, hating how timid he sounded.
Walker licked his lower lip, his gaze heavy as he looked him over from beneath hooded lids.
The attention settled over Kota like a physical touch, making him hyperaware of every inch of his body.
“There’s something prey-like about you, like a skittish little squirrel.
” He leaned over the table. Kota did too without thought, holding his breath.
The sounds of the diner faded beneath the rush of blood in his ears.
“It makes me want to see how you taste when you’re afraid. ”
Heat shot straight through Kota’s stomach at those words, equal parts alarm and attraction tangling together until he couldn’t tell them apart anymore.
That seemed to happen a lot around Walker.
“Oh,” Kota managed. “N-Not literally, though, right? Please tell me you’re not a cannibal.”
Walker laughed softly, picking up a piece of the bacon he’d left on his plate and popping it in his mouth, chewing dramatically before saying, “Not the eating I was referring to. There’s a lot of ways to consume someone.”
The look he gave Kota made it very clear he wasn’t talking about food.
“I’m listening,” Kota said.
The speaker crackled overhead, announcing that their shower was available. Walker threw cash on the table and stood, waiting for Kota to do the same before he took the lead, guiding him to the shower entrance.
The moment was broken, but the tension followed them anyway, winding tight between them as they entered the area. There were a half dozen doors, each with a number overhead.
Walker led him to the one on their ticket, opening the door for him. It was large, clean, like a reasonably priced hotel bathroom. There were towels folded neatly on a rack, a toilet, a sink, and a large shower stall.
The scent of bleach and clean linen hung in the air, which was oddly comforting after everything that had happened.
“You take your time,” Walker said. “I’ll grab you some clean clothes from the truck.”
Kota grabbed his wrist, gazing up at him from beneath his lashes. The thought of Walker leaving made something anxious flutter in his chest. “Or…you could just stay.”
“Stay?”
“I…I don’t really want to be alone yet,” Kota admitted.
That was true. Well, partially true. He was fine being alone. But he didn’t want Walker to leave him just yet. Not when he’d just started getting used to the feeling of him nearby.
Walker crowded him against the door frame.
“Is that so?”
The low rumble of his voice sent another wave of heat through Kota. He gave a stilted nod. “Yes.”
For a second, Walker just looked at him.
The sounds of the truck stop faded into the background. The chatter from the nearby truckers. The rumble of engines. The distant hiss of air brakes. All of it seemed far away compared to the weight of Walker’s attention.
Kota took a step back, grabbing Walker’s shirt and pulling him inside the bathroom, then locking the door with a heavy thud.
The sound echoed through the small space, leaving them suddenly and completely alone.