Page 112 of The Guy Next Door

I’m a fit of spasms.

*

I’m still tremblingfrom the shock of Isaac’s repeated assaults.

I think I lost consciousness for a minute there. As my vision unblurs, I notice I’m lying facedown on my bedroom floor. My arms are behind my back, and I attempt to move them, noticing the strain against my wrists.

I feel movement at my legs and glance over my shoulder. Isaac wraps a zip tie around my ankles, and by the time I’m able to struggle, it’s too late.

Fuck me.

Isaac feels around my ankles and yanks the hem of my jeans up. “Ah, what do we have here?” He slides my knife out of its holster.

Dammit.

“Guess that’s one down. Now you just have to tell me where your gun’s at.”

“Fuck off.”

He snickers as he crawls over to face me. He runs the blade across my cheek.

“Zane, you’re gonna learn real fast that I love when they pick the hard way.”

“What did you do to my brother, asshole?”

“You tell me where your gun is, and I’ll tell you that. And don’t try to pretend you don’t have one. I’ve been listening in on you and your boyfriend’s little conversations.”

The way he says that, it sounds like he fell for our ruse, but then why did he come here now? Did he realize he needed to take me out first to get to Leif?

“Where is your gun, Zane?” He presses the blade harder against my flesh, and when I don’t reply for a few moments, his nostrils flare. His eyes widen. And then he smiles.

The expressions are disturbingly erratic, impossible to read.

As he continues applying pressure with the blade, I’m waiting for him to draw blood, but he restrains himself, pulling back.

“It’s too early to damage this beautiful body,” he whispers as though it’s not even intended for me. “Fuck it, I’ll find it myself.”

He’s placed my backpack on the bed; that’s where he goes first.

Of fucking course.

He rifles through and pulls out the case. “Well, they weren’t gonna let you take this where you were going anyway.”

Is he gonna realize it’s strange that I would have taken that over to Leif’s, even after I’d assured him there wasn’t any real danger?

“Where the fuck is my brother?” I ask, trying to get his attention off what might cast doubt in his mind about our real plan.

I struggle with my restraints, but it’s for show since I know better than to waste my energy on what would be a futile attempt at escaping. At least while he’s got his eyes on me.

“You should be more concerned about your fate than Michael’s. It’s already been two months since he passed, so you’re wasting your tears.”

Passed?

He might as well have decked me in the gut.

My body curls toward the floor, a rush of adrenaline from all the excitement colliding with the blow of grief.

No, fucking no.

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