Page 19 of Stalk

“What can I get you all started with?” she asks.

“Two margaritas,per favor.On the rocks. With salt.”

She nods and walks away, her long ponytail swaying behind her.

“You don’t even know if I drink.”

This time, I do smile. “If you don’t drink it, I will.” I dunk a warm chip into the salsa and pop it in my mouth. This apparently sets him off more than my baiting him.

“How can you do that after what we just did?” he grumbles lowly.

My eyebrows raise. “Dowhat?”

“Eat!” he hisses.

I stare at him, utterly confused. “It’s dinnertime.”

His face falls to his hands as he shakes his head. His silky black hair shines in the overhead light, almost looking blue. I’m at a loss. Supposedly, this person does the same thing I do for a living. If I hadn’t killed Helena, he would have. What’s the big deal? Honestly, his hissy fit is annoying the hell out of me. Sure, purposely annoying him was more than fun, but I didn’t expect…this.Then again, everything about tonight has not gone according to plan.

“You take souls for a living. Yes or no?” I ask quietly after he doesn’t lift his face back up for too long.

Finally, I receive a nod.

“Then why are you acting like you just ran over my puppy?”

That makes his head snap back up. Anger lies beneath his bright irises. Too bad this guy doesn’t scare me for shit. He may think he’s being intimidating, but his attempt just amuses me.

“How can you talk about it so—solightly?”

I blink. “I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

He swallows roughly and looks away. Like divine intervention, our waitress comes back to our table with two very large margaritas right when an awkward silence builds in the space between us.

Thank God.

The waitress asks if we want to order anything else, and I turn her away as politely as possible given my current aggravation. Despite my current hangryness, it’s apparent that my strange companion has no interest in eating, so I’ll just grab something with Marco after we’re finished here. Once the waitress walks away, before I can even bring my drink closer tomy side of the table, he snatches his glass up and brings the rim to his lips, taking a long pull.Alrighty, then.Someone’s stressed.

“What is your name?” I ask after taking a sip from my own drink.

“Not sure it’s smart to give you that information.”

“Nothing about our situation is smart,” I snap back.

He rolls his eyes and it makes me want to slam his head down into the bowl of chips between us. “My name is Ren.”

I eat another chip before responding. “Mattia.”

Ren takes a couple more sips. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’m pretty sure it’s not. I’m leaving after I’m done with this drink, so talk.

Ballsy words from someone whose flesh almost met the pointy end of my knife. I take another sip before responding, because I realize I need to approach this topic carefully. Something about Ren sets off my alarm bells, but I can’t figure out why, exactly. And the last thing I need is for him to blow both of our covers or throw another fit.

I decide to give him a little bit of information about me to hopefully build some trust—even if it’s temporary. “I am from Venice. I’m here for a few assignments, though I usually don’t leave Italy. My company has been around for generations.”

Ren’s posture relaxes ever so slightly. “Why would you be sent here when you’re based in Italy?”

I shrug. “Upon occasion, our Italian clients who have moved to the states request our services, and someone is sent over to carry them out.”

“Interesting.”

---