Obviously.
That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. Kota definitely had a crush. Of course, he did. Only he would fall for a murderer in less than forty-eight hours. At this point, he was starting to suspect his survival instincts were mostly decorative. He’d never met a bad decision he didn’t immediately jump on.
He started walking towards the small cabin when he heard an odd noise coming from the dilapidated barn. The sound was metallic and rhythmic. Heavy. Deliberate.
He walked slowly towards the slightly gaping door, feeling like the final girl in a horror movie. The kind who definitely should not investigate the creepy noise, but did anyway, because otherwise there wouldn’t be a third act.
Inside, Walker stood, wearing a thin papery blue jumpsuit that covered him from head to toe, yellow rubber gloves thatwent to his elbows, and goggles that kind of made him look like a minion…but, like, a sexy one. Kota might have thought it funny had he not also been holding an electric saw.
If Walker saw him, he didn’t acknowledge him.
Kota leaned against the door as the saw in Walker’s hand roared to life, coming down on the shoulder joint of the man who’d tried to use those arms to kill Kota hours ago.
The sound ripped through Kota’s spine, reminding him of the sound a knife made cutting through frozen chicken—this nauseating “shuck” noise. It set his teeth on edge, but not nearly as much as watching the man’s severed arm fall onto the plastic tarp beneath the table.
The arm landed with a heavy thud. Kota immediately regretted having eyes.
“Oh, God,” Kota said, gaze wide, stomach churning as the saw quieted. “That’s… Oh, wow.”
His brain seemed unable to decide if this was horrifying, fascinating, or weirdly domestic. Sure, Walker was dismembering a body, but he was, like,reallygood at it. There wasn’t much Walker wasn’t good at. He could kill, he could drive that huge truck, he fucked like a porn star… Maybe Kota just had a competency kink.
Walker set the saw down beside the frozen, bluish-purple corpse, then set the arm on parchment paper, winding it around the limb, then tying it off with twine, like they weren’t in a barn but a butcher shop. His movements were efficient. Practiced. Almost gentle.
Only then did he acknowledge Kota, his smile dazzling.
“Hey, squirrel. How’d you sleep?” he asked pleasantly, crossing the room to Kota, packaged arm in hand.
For a second, Kota worried he might hand it to him. Instead, Walker slapped a kiss on his forehead, chuckling as he tookhim in. “You look like you lost a fight with your sleep paralysis demon.”
Kota glowered at him, trying to push down the hair he could feel standing up all over his head, skin still tingling where Walker had kissed him.
A normal person probably wouldn’t get butterflies because a man interrupted dismembering a corpse to kiss their forehead. Kota had long accepted that he was not a normal person.
“We need to stop on the way to The Morgue and get you some clothes that fit. People are gonna think I don’t know how to take care of you.”
“What were you—” Kota began, then stopped short.
What was he about to say? Was he going to ask what he was doing? It was pretty obvious.
Early’s head was missing from his body, as was his other arm and one foot. Shapes vaguely resembling said body parts sat neatly wrapped like Christmas presents on a separate steel table.
The sight should have been horrifying. Instead, his brain kept circling back to “take care of you” like a dog worrying a bone.
He glanced around the barn to distract himself from his impending downward spiral.
It was less a barn and more a slaughterhouse. The floor wasn’t dirt but cement, with a drain in the center. On the wall, there were plastic coveralls, goggles, something that looked like a gas mask, and industrial size rolls of plastic sheeting. Hoses hung from the ceiling like snakes, with strange attachments Kota didn’t recognize.
It was a disposal site. His brain wasn’t nearly as horrified as it should have been. It was still caught on Walker’s casual mention of taking care of him. Of Kota.
His heart leapt into his throat.
Did Walker want to take care of Kota? Did he plan on taking care of him? Did Walker actuallywantthat or did he just feel obligated? Did Kota want that?
The answer to that last question arrived a little too quickly.
Had he finally found someone even crazier than himself? He didn’t dare hope that was true. But he also really hoped it was.
Kota stayed rooted to the spot as Walker returned to the corpse.
