Page 17 of Captive

Ezra shrugs. “There’s no timeline or anything.”

“Yeah, it ain’t like if we don’t go out and kill we go crazy. There’s no schedule,” Royal says, mimicking how I talk with his mouth full.

No timeline. Interesting. But I guess I don’t have a timeline, either. It isn’t like I need to do what I do, more like I want to. After what happened, after who I lost… it’s a hardcore want, a desire so deep inside of me it’ll never go away.

I could survive without it, if I had to. I could go the rest of my life without killing again. Of course, I’d spend a lot of time thinking about it, a hell of a lot of time imagining it, but I could do it. I’m not an addict.

“So, if there’s no schedule, and if you don’t have day jobs… what do you guys do for fun? Do you visit family or anything? Girlfriends?” That last word is out of me before I can think better about it, kind of like that comment I made to Hawthorne in his office earlier.

Hey, these guys are easy on the eyes. You can’t blame me for wondering their status.

Again, the two guys glance at each other. This time, however, their exchanged look is longer-lasting, there’s more to it, although I’m not privy to whatever they’re saying to each other with their eyes.

Ezra finally says, “We don’t really see our families much at all these days. And when it comes to girlfriends…” He looks at Royal yet again, and this time I get it.

I totally get it. I get it so fast it hits me like a train, to the point where I wonder why the hell I didn’t get it before.

“Oh,” I say. “You guys are together. Say no more. That’s totally cool.” And it is. It is cool. A little sad for me, but cool. A serial-killing gay couple who have a code they follow. How freaking cool is that?

Royal’s low, harsh voice cuts through my thoughts, “What? No, fuck no. We aren’t—we aren’t fucking together. That’s not what he was trying to say. None of us are together, for the record, in case that was your next fucking question.”

Seems I struck a nerve. Didn’t mean to.

Ezra is much calmer when he tells me, “What Royal is trying and failing to say is that, while we aren’t together, we also don’t have girlfriends. It’s not because we don’t like girls or don’t want them. It’s…”

Oh, now I really get it. For real this time. “You don’t let yourself have girlfriends or anything because of what you do,” I say, and Ezra nods. Royal, on the other hand, is still frowning into his food like I insulted every choice he’s ever made in his life. “Makes sense. You guys don’t like complications, and having a significant other could be a big complication.”

“Or,” Ezra says, “collateral damage if we were ever to get caught. It goes hand-in-hand with the rules we follow. We don’t kill women, we don’t date women. We’re like lone wolves, keeping to ourselves because it’s better for everyone that way.”

Though they each seem fine with it, I couldn’t imagine a life like that. So isolated. Granted, it’s been a long, long time since I’ve dated any guy or even hooked up with one, and I haven’t exactly wanted to because lately every man I look at I instantly assume is a piece of shit, but the option is always there if I want to.

Sometimes there’s nothing better than some physical stress relief, when things are done right. You know, when the man has some skill.

“Doesn’t that ever get old? Don’t you guys get lonely?” I ask.

“No,” Ezra says quickly, but with the speed at which he answers, I can tell he’s not being truthful. He wants to believe he never gets lonely, but the actual truth is more complicated. He’s human. Just as we’re violent by nature, we also seek out companionship on a regular basis, and having friends-slash-serial-killing-coworkers doesn’t cut the same.

Royal, on the other hand, has a different response: “Why? You offering to cure that loneliness?” The very second the question leaves his mouth, Ezra shoots him a deadly look, one he dutifully ignores. His black gaze is narrowed in my direction, the scar going through his left eye making the whole expression more intense.

I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me or being serious, but if I have to guess, based on the way Ezra responded, he’s being serious—and I have to admit, I am a little curious how these guys would be in the sack.

I’ve seen them kill a man, for goodness sakes. They’re very capable with sharp objects. If they’re half as capable with certain parts of their bodies, then I’m sure a night with them would be one I’d remember for the rest of my life.

Since I’m so intrigued by the possibility, I say the only thing I can, “Maybe I am. What then?” My response causes Ezra to give me a look, although the expression he sends my way is way less acidic than the one he just gave Royal.

Ezra says, “Hawthorne would never allow it.”

“Does Hawthorne control everything you guys do?” The question is posed in good fun, but I can tell immediately it strikes a nerve with Royal. “All I’m saying is, I already know who you guys are and what you guys do. I get the whole not dating outside of this house thing, but, you know, technically I am inside the house, so I don’t see why it should matter to Hawthorne.”

“Don’t let Hawthorne hear you say that,” Royal quips.

“We should change the subject,” Ezra says. “Let’s talk about anything else.”

I think about pushing the subject more, but I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes just yet. These guys are still strangers to me, and as much as I am curious how they are in the sack, I also don’t want to get on anyone’s bad side, including Hawthorne’s. I don’t think I’ll die here, but maybe… just maybe I can prove to these guys that I can be a part of the team.

Not a captive. Not their kidnapped witness. Just a woman who’s capable of meeting them where they’re at. A team member. Hey, maybe I could learn a few tricks of the trade from them, earn their trust, and they’d let me leave this house whenever I want. It’d be a risk, but maybe.

I let Ezra pick the topic of conversation after that, but I notice the way Royal keeps glancing at me. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s thinking about.