“Tell you what?” There. That sounded good, no slurring, no hesitation. We’d moved from the chair to the floor. She was still semi-straddling me, her left leg behind me, while her right was across my lap. I liked it too much to complain about the fact that I couldn’t feel my ass anymore.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“Andi—”
“Fine, I’ll go first.” She scooted closer to me, laying her head on my shoulder and wrapping her hands around my arm. “I shot a husband and wife in front of each other.”
Horrible that in that moment I wanted to shrug and say, “Big shit. That all you got?” Instead, I nodded slowly, my brain still buzzing from the alcohol, my tongue heavy. “That’s not so bad, Andi.”
“Story’s not over.” She patted my knee. “I shot the husband and wife in front of their kids. Granted their kids were in high school and well on their way to being spies, but hey…” She shuddered. “…I let them live… tried to walk away, then got a text… no loose ends.”
“So you went back.” I filled in the blank.
“We always go back, don’t we, Sergio? People like you and me. We do the job, we get it done, we try to keep our emotions out of it — and the scary part? We’re good at it, aren’t we? Until one day, you wake up—”
“And suddenly you feel,” I finished, “everything.”
“Maybe that’s our punishment for being so damn good, Sergio. You think? This feeling of invincibility wears off, and humanity kicks in.”
“Humanity sucks,” I grumbled, trying to keep the emotion from my voice.
“Sometimes…” Andi pressed her cheek to my shoulder. “…sometimes I think I was given cancer as a punishment.”
I jerked away from her like she’d just shot me in the stomach. “Andi, no, you can’t believe that. Tell me you don’t really think that.”
She shrugged.
“If that was the case, I should already be dead, and that’s the truth.” I turned and cupped her face in my hands. Tears were welling in her pretty brown eyes. “I count them.”
She blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I count every single person I kill.” I licked my lips. Maybe if I bit down on them, I’d stop talking; instead, everything came out so fast you’d think I was confessing my sins at church. “It started out as a way to keep control over what I did. If I counted, they were just a number, right? They weren’t actually a person. So I started with one, then two, then three… after a while it became this weird obsession.”
Andi trailed her fingertips across my jaw. “What do you mean?”
I tensed, but the alcohol didn’t allow me to stay that way. I pulled back from her enough to pull up my shirt and turn. I’d always kept the tattoo semi-hidden. She hadn’t seen it when I was in the shower because my arm did a good job of covering the tally marks.
I had exactly thirty-seven.
For every life I’d taken.
And space to continue — because I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that would be my final number, not by a long shot.
“You tattoo them?” She trailed her fingers over the small black marks. “Why?”
“To remember.” I shrugged, pulling my shirt back on. “Or to remind myself. I don’t know…”
“One of them looked new.” Her eyes met mine. “The FBI agent?”
“How do you even know about that?”
She shrugged. “I know a lot of things I shouldn’t know. I know she was going to get killed the minute she stepped foot back in the building. I also know you did her a kindness, even though you probably regret having to be the one to do it.”
“But that’s the thing…” I let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t regret it one bit. I gave her control over what happened to her. I could see it in her eyes. She was begging me, Andi. Begging me to end her, so I did.”
“She was already dead.”
“Does that make taking her life right? Or my right?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s late. We should probably go to bed.”
Andi gripped my hands then lifted herself onto my lap, straddling me for the second time that night. “What are you afraid of?”
“You sure get deep when you drink vodka.” I tried ignoring her question; confession time was over.
“Italy…” she warned, kissing both cheeks, “tell me.”
I sighed and hung my head. “Then bed?”
“Show me yours, I’ll show you mine…”
I blew out air between my cheeks. “I’m afraid that one day I’ll stop being afraid. And that’s the truth.”
“Fear makes it real.”
“Fear makes me real.” Shrugging, I tried to explain. “It means I’m still human. The minute you stop feeling fear…”
“You turn into a sociopath.” She winked. Leave it to Andi to add in some humor to my morose thoughts.
“Right.” I chuckled.
“Bed?” She tilted her head.
“Not so fast.” I gripped her hips. “What’s your fear?”
“You mean other than the dark?” she whispered, the heat of her tongue colliding with my neck, making me want to maul her against the floor.
“Yeah.” My breathing slowed in anticipation of what she would say.