Lost Cause (Killer of Kings 8)

“Is everything okay?”

“You don’t want to go to sleep. Fine. We won’t sleep. You’ll sit there and you’ll talk.”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “I don’t want to talk now.”

But he noticed she was still talking.

Did this woman not stop? Did she not have an off switch?

How could someone who’d come so close to death be so fucking chipper?

She’d watched him kill. She might not have seen the complete act, but any normal person would have screamed. They would’ve been a liability, not looking so fucking adorable, as if they were the best friends she appeared to be acting like.

She kept stealing glances at him. He noticed her gaze kept on dropping to his body.

Cleo liked how he looked. Not that he cared. His body was a machine, exactly how he trained it to be for years. No one could deny his attention to the finer details.

“You’re going to get very tired. I’m just trying to get to know you. We’re clearly stuck with each other.” She pointed between the two of them. “I might also like to add that when I’m nervous, I talk a lot.”

“You think I haven’t figured that out? Do you think I’m going to rape you?” he asked.

She frowned. “Ew, no, I don’t think that at all.” A pause. “Do you … want to have sex with me?”

He had no way of knowing how they even got onto this topic.

“I don’t rape women.” That was for the lowlifes, the scum-sucking bastards who deserved to have a slow death. Ones he was more than happy to grant. He would keep those men alive just to watch them suffer.

What he didn’t do was kill innocents, which was why Cleo, even with her constant chattering, was still alive. He had to wonder if other Killer of Kings men had this same trouble. Some of the men were married, but he wasn’t close to them. He liked to keep to himself, and the only ones he had any real contact with were Boss and Maurice. The others were just … co-workers.

“That’s good to know. Do you want a badge?”

“I could kill you,” he said.

“You would have done it before now.” She shrugged. “I feel we’re getting off on the wrong foot here. I’m not trying to irritate you. I think it comes naturally to me.” She forced a smile. “Hence the constant foster homes. No one could put up with me for any length of time.”

“You never thought to change?”

“Can’t change who I am. It’s probably why I try to work the night shift. There aren’t a whole lot of people to annoy. But look at where that’s led me. I might also warn you, I don’t need a lot of sleep.” She winced. “I probably should have led with that detail, huh? I don’t sleep a whole lot, and when I do, it’s mostly from being passed out. I think I lasted up to seventy-two hours once with no sleep and very little coffee. You look like you’re going to be sick. Are you okay?”

The best of men struggled without some form of sleep, and now this woman claimed to not need much. He highly doubted that.

So far, she didn’t act like any other person he knew. She was a mystery.

“What will make you sleep?” he asked.

“How about we just talk? Is that so bad?”

“Cleo, you won’t last.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Tell that to all of my foster parents. Trust me. I can last. I even shock myself with how little sleep I need.” She folded her arms again and looked at him.

Priest had scared men into confessing all their sins with a simple stare. Cleo looked at him without a care in the world. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was … normal. He was tired. He’d been on that stakeout of Marcus Olivieri for way too long, and tomorrow he had to deal with Boss. He needed his wits about him. Sitting in the kitchen and waiting for Cleo to fall asleep wasn’t his ideal solution.

She had to sleep. He watched as she held her hand up to her face and yawned.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Were you a good priest?”