Page 110 of The Guy Next Door

His jaw tenses up, and he approaches. “I was not using you as fucking bait, Leif. I wasn’t even sure anything was going to happen. I was working off intuition and blind determination. How else was I supposed to handle it? Abduct you myself to protect you from this psycho?”

He sounds irate, like he’s furious that I’m even entertaining this idea. But I know I’m right.

“Zane, we have to do this. You know this is the only way.”

“I refuse to believe that. We just have to think.”

“Fine. Let’s say that’s the plan until we think of something better.”

He glares at me. “I’m not agreeing to that.”

“You would if you thought there was even a possibility we’d think of a better plan.”

“Stop being so right for one second.”

A gentlechirpcomes from nearby.

“Could you stop upsetting Kyra?”

He huffs. “I can’t believe you’re trying to crack jokes right now.”

“I don’t know how the fuck else to get through talking about potentially sacrificing myself to bait a psychopath.”

He’s quiet.

“You have to do this, Zane. For Mike.”

His chin quivers, his eyes watering. “Why would you say that?” He doesn’t sound angry anymore; he’s hurt.

It was a low blow, but he needs a better reason to disregard my plan than the fact that he doesn’t like it.

He shakes his head. “If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“And I can’t live needing you at my side every waking moment of my day because he might be around the next corner. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if six months from nowthere’s a news story about a new guy going missing. And then another after that. And another after that. Especially knowing there might have been a way for me to stop it.”

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I saw his brother’s body in the news, knowing we might have been able to save him.

“This is too much. I refuse.” Zane tears up. He shakes his head.

But I know why he’s reacting this way—he knows what I’ve already realized; this is the way we can end this once and for all.

He approaches me. “I hate this. I hate this with every fiber of my being. I hate that this is one of the reasons I fucking love you. And I hate you for being right.” He places his hand against my cheek. “I can’t lose you.”

“Then you’d better make sure this plan works,” I say, and now I’m tearing up, overwhelmed with emotion.

He lurches toward me and takes a kiss, and I let myself have this. It’s a welcome distraction from this fucked-up conversation.

He pushes me back onto the bed and crawls on top of me.

We’re already kissing like it might be the last time. When our lips finally part, he rubs his nose against mine before pulling back, his gaze shifting away from me.

I imagine he’s doing what I’m doing, trying to run through every possible scenario. Trying to think of some solution that doesn’t involve putting my life at risk.

But when his gaze returns to me, he looks resigned.

Fuck. What the hell are we doing?

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