Page 66 of The Bait

Harry swerved the Jeep off the road and slammed on the brakes. “You think that’s okay with me? You can tell me that if something were to happen to me that you’d just eat a bullet because you can’t stand to think about life without me, yet you expect me to just go home and live happily without you? Is that what you think, Asher? Do you think I don’t love you as much as you love me? Do you think for one second that I could live without you?”

Harry was so fucking mad. And hurt. He was so hurt that Asher would think like this.

Tears burned in Harry’s eyes. His heart felt heavy and sore. “Does my love mean so little to you?”

Asher wouldn’t look at him. “I just need you to live, that’s all.”

“And I need you to live. Our best chance of doing thatis sticking together, and you know it. You’re not going in there alone.”

“What if you find a higher vantage point?” Asher tried, his voice quiet. When he finally looked at Harry, his eyes were glassy. “Take the 36s and?—”

“No.” That would make tactical sense if they had time and intel. But they had neither. And Asher going in alone was simply not an option. “We go in together or not at all.”

Asher’s chin wobbled and he let out a shuddery breath. “I don’t want it to end here. But you have to know something, Harry. If it does end today, if we don’t come out of this, I need you to know the last two years have been the best years of my life. More than I ever deserved to have.”

Harry took Asher’s hand. “Same. I love you, Asher. But you need to stop thinking about dying today. We’re gonna get through this. So enough of the martyr bullshit. Let’s go in there and kick some ass.”

Asher’s eyes studied his, then his whole face, as if he was committing it all to memory one final time.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you too, Asher.”

He let out a long breath and whispered, “I don’t like this. Everything feels wrong.”

Harry knew why it felt wrong. They were willingly walking into a trap, outnumbered, outgunned. It went against every fibre in Harry’s body. Every instinct he had was telling him this was bad.

If this was an op he’d been contracted for, he’d turn around and be long gone. That gut instinct that had kept him alive for a decade was telling him now to bail and be gone.

But he couldn’t.

Asher was going in, which meant Harry would be right beside him.

He squeezed Asher’s hand. “It’ll be okay.”

It has to be, Harry thought.

They drove the final few kilometres in silence. The litany of all the things he wanted to say went unsaid.

Because they would survive this.

Harry had to believe that.

THIRTEEN

Asher had beenin a lot of situations that felt wrong. Situations where things didn’t add up, where that sixth sense told him to walk away or run. He’d lived on his instincts since he was all of four years old, an expert on reading people, reading the room.

Driving up to the property and in through the gates made Asher feel ill.

Don’t come. Don’t do it.

That’s what Yunho had said before he was cut off.

Asher could still hear the muted thud of an obvious punch and Yunho’s resulting groan.

Of course Asher would come.

Yunho could be pissed at him all he damn liked, Asher didn’t care. Because Asher was pissed at him. He was more than pissed. He was really fucking angry.

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