There was another long pause. He could feel the other man staring at him, probably trying to decide if it was a really dark joke.
“You’ve been kidnapped before?” Walker finally asked.
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 havebeen 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 youkill people because you like it or because you, like…needto 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.
