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Chapter Twenty Two Raya St Claire
Clouds were darkening the sky as Ezra and I walked down the sidewalk after our fun at the abandoned amusement park an hour ago.
We were walking hand in hand and in sync next to each other.
Ezra’s thumb kept brushing the skin above my thumb and it was a gesture so sweet that I forgot why we were walking out here alone in the first place, and I guess it was something I wanted to forget, anyways. It wasn’t something I could run away from, though. I needed to get back to the mansion and I know I needed to face Archie again. To confront him. But having Ezra holding my hand like this told me that I wasn’t completely alone in this world, and it meant something.
“That was fun, newcomer.” I admit, looking at him when he glanced at me with a smile.
“You’re calling me newcomer after what we’ve done at the amusement park? I thought we were on a real name basis right now. I thought we were past the not-calling-you-by-your-name shit.”
“Well, you’ll always be the newcomer to me, newcomer.” I squeeze his hand a little tighter. “But if you’re complaining about me holding your hand, then—” I made a move to take my hand out of his grip, but he squeezed my hand tighter.
“Don’t. I like it when you’re holding my hand. It fits like a puzzle piece.” He has a big grin on his mouth when he examined our intertwined fingers, and sure enough, it really did fit like a puzzle piece. I also loved how safe my hand felt in his, it was like nothing could break it apart.
I spot an empty bench on the sidewalk and pull Ezra toward it. I sit down on the bench first, turning on the seat to look at him seated beside me. “I want to know more about you, newbie.”
He slightly shrugs. “What do you want to know, princess?”
“Why did you become a contract killer? When did you become one? Do you have a family?”
He chuckles, shaking his head at my babbling. “One question at a time, princess, or I’m going to start charging you for them.” He starts to fiddle with a piece of loose thread of my pants, avoiding eye contact with me. I wouldn’t exactly call it avoiding eye contact, it was almost as if he was nervous about the questions I asked him, and whether or not he wanted to answer them.
“Okay, uh, why did you become a contract killer?” I ask him.
“I’m a very good shot, that’s why I became a hit man. I started when I was eighteen, I guess. I got my very first contract after both my parents passed away. I was alone, on the streets just like you until someone came up to me and asked me what I was capable of…” His words trail off as he looks at me, but it was like he was looking right through me. “And to answer your previous question, I do not have a family.” His shoulders slumps and his mouth were set in a firm line.
