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I pinch my brows together. “That doesn’t raise any alarm bells for you?”
When he told me about the other men on his menu, he had so much detail. He told me about their crimes, their personal lives, and even some of their few good contributions to society. I concluded that Gabriel was big on doing his own research. It kind of made me feel as if he wasn’t just out here killing because someone told him to. Don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely a rule follower, but he isn’t a mindless sheep. That’s why his response seems odd.
Instead of answering me, he grunts. I don’t harp on it. He knows more about this shit than I do. Maybe this is a special case, and he doesn’t need any details. I go back to enjoying my tacos.
After I’ve made it through about three of them, he cuts into the silence.
“Why did you eat this, but not the food at the diner?”
I look up to find his eyes on me. He’s finished his food, but he isn’t rushing me to finish mine. Which I appreciate.
Using a clean napkin to wipe my mouth I reply, “I wasn’t hungry then. But also, I love Mexican food. It’s about the only thing I’ll never pass up.”
“You pass up food often.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question, but I answer it anyway.
“Sometimes,” I say, clearing my throat nervously.
As I’ve said, I haven’t necessarily been good to my body.
I finish the rest of my food while telling him all about the best Mexican restaurants I’ve visited. I wrap my last taco up, too full to eat another bite. I go to place it in the tray we were using for trash, but he holds out a hand to block it.
When I look up at him, he cocks a brow at me. Without saying a word, I know what he wants. Sighing, I drop the taco back down in front of me and unwrap it.
It only takes me a few more minutes to finish the last one. Once I’m done, I ball the paper up and toss it in the tray.
“Happy now?” I ask.
“Yes.” He grabs our trash and takes it to the trash can.
Standing, I try to grab his black duffle off the ground, but the thing has to weigh at least fifty pounds. How the hell has he been carrying this around all night so effortlessly. I try again to lift it using both hands.
He comes over, knocks my hands away, and easily lifts the bag up. I don’t miss the slight tilt of his lips.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “I could have done it.”
“You will need a few more tacos before you can lift this.”
I stick out my tongue at his little dig. He swings the bag over his shoulder and starts to walk off. I follow like the obedient captive that I am.
“Tell me about your mother?” I ask after another block of walking and talking.
I’ve talked so much about my life, trying to appeal to his humanity, that I haven’t found out anything about him. Will knowing more about him help me stay alive? Doubtful. But at this point I’m kind of interested.
His shoulders tighten and he has yet to respond to my question. This is usually when I would let him off the hook. However, I did admit to him that I’m possibly batshit crazy like my father. I’m not going to be the only person exorcising demons tonight.
When he still hasn’t responded after three minutes, I ask another question.
“Is she dead or alive?”
This time, he cuts his eyes over to me and I can read on his face he doesn’t want to discuss this topic. Tough luck.
“Oh, I see. You can ask me about my shit, but I can’t ask about yours. Good to know where we stand in this relationship.”
“This isn’t a fucking relationship,” he growls as he spins around to face me.
I stop in my tracks. It’s not like the fear of this man has ever dissipated. However, being around him and talking to him made me a little more comfortable with him. But having him glare down at me the way he is reminds me again of his capabilities.
“We aren’t on a date, nor are we friends. Despite your blatant attempts at it. Need I remind you that you will die tonight by my hands.”
