Fuck. I shiver at the possessive words and scramble to cover my dick just as she returns. I like being his.
Chapter fourteen
Mac
Mypetisgorgeous.As he curls up to sleep on the couch after eating, his head on my thigh, I can’t help running my fingers through his soft, thick curls. He looks healthier than he did two weeks ago, likely from eating regularly and not being on his feet for hours.
If I thought he’d struggle adapting to being out in the world, I was wrong. He seems built for adaptability where I need structure. But then I had a relatively easy, if cold childhood. My parents both had similar personalities to mine, and I hadn’t shed a tear at their death when I was a freshman in college.
E has dealt with constant trauma and rejection, so it’s no wonder he likes someone telling him what is expected of him while also adapting to his situation. I find myself wanting to kill his father even more than I did before. Maybe I’ll really take my time with him so he understands that no one is allowed to hurt what’s mine.
He doesn’t know it, but I kissed his forehead when he first fell asleep leaning on my shoulder. Kissing isn’t something I enjoy, and I only did it when I was forced to look like I was in a relationship, though itwas only for the cameras. In college, it was a girl who my frat brothers wouldn’t leave me alone about. Then, last year, I dated a model my publicist set me up with. She was an asexual woman who needed to boost her profile, while I needed to get the gossip rags off my back.
Di pointed out that if they think I’ll always be with a particular person, they’ll notice me less when I’m alone, and it did help with a murder I pulled in Monaco. We parted ways when she got a TV show hosting gig in Australia, but it was mutually beneficial.
Nothing about E is easy or helpful to my goals. Having him with me means people are speculating about my sexuality. It puts a spotlight on me in a way that makes what I do in public spaces significantly more difficult.
When you regularly go off alone with men to drug them, you don’t need people wondering if it is more than a coincidence. And it is mostly men. I’ve killed only two women, a ‘humanitarian’ using a charity to hide a slave trade in Myanmar, and the woman who helped sell Di when she was kidnapped the first time.
Getting to Di in time was almost impossible the first time, since I had almost nothing to go on. My investigative skills came in handy, but my murder toll doubled with that rescue. It took Di a couple weeks before she was healed from injuries, but she got on her computer and helped to cover my tracks.
This time, I don’t want to leave a trace. Plus, I have her notes, which includes notes about her house and mine being under surveillance by Thomas Miller’s people. I wish she’d told me, so I could have hired security or moved her to my house, but that’s in the past.
Carefully pulling her laptop open on the table attached to the arm rest, E grumbles in his sleep and clutches onto my thigh. He’s a clingy thing, but I find I don’t mind for once.
He should be attached to me, Ethan Miller belongs to me and no one else.
Though his new passport says Emanuel Gonzalez, his birth name. I felt he should have one that was more accurate, and also hope it keeps his dad from tracking his movements with me. Though if Miller can see my travel, he can see who I’m traveling with.
Let him find me. It will lead me to finding Di faster and killing him that much more quickly.
Opening the folder Di helpfully labeled ‘Mac’s Pet’ —which I’m sure she thinks is hilarious—I find her notes and transcripts for E. He started kindergarten in the Upper East Side of Manhattan, but was shuffled around every couple years. If I had to guess, it looks like his dad changed schools whenever E was there long enough to feel comfortable. If he trusted people, he might tell them what he saw and how his dad treated him.
My pet never has to worry about his dad again.
The captain announces we’re descending towards Houston and E stirs. I reach over to check that his seatbelt is secure, then go back to petting him with my free hand. No reason to wake him, his bent position is safer in a crash because my body can protect his head.
Who would ever believe I could be so attached to one person in this way?
The only person I’ve ever come close to being vulnerable with is Di, and now that number is two. I’ve never gotten to indulge with one person like this. One man. I have been so focused on my career fordecades, and now I’m forty-six and alone. I accepted it. Considering that I’m closeted and famous, and also a serial killer, I don’t need anyone too close.
Now, though, I plan to keep him.
If he’s not working with his dad. That’s the only unknown in this situation.
We don’t need to disembark in Houston, but I do allow E to walk around the plane. He tells me about how he loved a visit to Austin, Texas to see an indie festival, and I tell him about covering the event twenty years ago when I was a fresh-faced journalist.
“I was in first or second grade twenty years ago,” E quips and then rolls his lips to suppress a smile as I narrow my eyes. The flight attendant interrupts to tell us we’ll be taking off soon.
Not waiting until she leaves, I ask, “Are you calling me old, E?”
His eyes widen, likely a mix of hearing me use the nickname because a stranger is still within hearing distance and worry over my reaction. “Not…old. Just older than me?”
“Is that a question?”
“Um, no, Sir,” E bites his lip before straddling my lap, not sparing a glance for the open curtain to the front of the plane. He runs gentle fingers from my temple to the back of my head where he scratches at my scalp through the short hair. “I like that you’re older than me. The salt and pepper look is hot.”
“If you say so.” I shrug and grab his ass to emphasize my next point. “You’re not allowed to leave this old man unless it’s in a body bag.”