The Guy Next Door

Chapter 31

31

LEIF

I haven’t needed my key to Zane’s before this plan. He’d usually met me outside even on my short trek to his place, and it’s a surprise to be using it for the first time as I enter Zane’s place.

Could you come over real quick and help me with a few things?

I thought he was only bringing a bag tonight so we wouldn’t look like we were up to something, but maybe he forgot something he needed to put in the basement.

As I close the door, I notice the place is eerily quiet before I hear a sound coming from upstairs. It’s strained, muffled.

Something’s wrong. Get out. Call the cops.

I whirl around and grab the doorknob when I hear behind me, “You walk out that door, and your boyfriend’s dead.”

I freeze in place; the strained cry from upstairs is even louder.

I spin around, looking up the stairs.

It’s him: the dark-haired man from the photo Zane showed me.

Isaac Tolle.

He has a gun in his hand, aimed at Zane, who has his arms behind his back and a gag in his mouth. The way Isaac’s gripping the back of his shirt, it’s clear he dragged him to the top of the stairs.

The text was a trick to lure me here, and now he’s got us both right where he wants us.

“Hello, Leif.” Isaac’s voice is a whisper. There’s something unsettling to how calm he seems in a situation that has my adrenaline spiking. His lips curl into a smile, something wicked in his gaze.

Zane continues crying out behind his gag, his eyes wide, as though he’s trying to plant a message in my head. I’m sure it’s something simple like, “Get the fuck out of here!” He’d want me to leave so at least one of us could turn Isaac in.

Or maybe a part of me knows that’s more reasonable than taking on an armed man.

Heartbeat racing, breaths hastening, my thoughts are running through scenarios, like shit out of a Fast and Furious movie, where I’m able to use quick thinking and strategy to disarm him and save the day. Like the night Zane dragged me into the closet, I figure I could have taken some goddamn self-defense classes to be prepared for this.

If only…

“Get your phone out,” Isaac says. “Throw it up here.”

My gaze meets Zane’s; I can tell with every fiber of my being he wants me to get the hell out of here, but knowing what will happen if I leave, I can’t risk that. I obey Isaac’s instruction, aiming for his head, but he moves aside so the phone goes flying down the upstairs hall.

He chuckles. “Like the fight. Now come on up. We have things to discuss. I don’t think I need to tell you that if you leave, I have no reason to keep Zane alive.” He drags Zane toward his bedroom.

Zane continues pleading with me from behind his gag.

I’m running through my options. How easy it would be to spare myself right now.

I could get help.

But the thought of leaving Zane here to meet his end is too unbearable to consider, and before I know it, I find myself mounting the stairs, heading toward my fate, whatever that may be.

I consider my mom’s pepper spray, which I have in my jeans pocket. I think about reaching in for it now, but Isaac will be suspicious if I get to the top of the stairs with my hand in my pocket. No, I need to wait for the right moment.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I turn toward Zane’s room. Isaac stands inside, aiming the gun at Zane.

“In here,” Isaac says.

“I’m fine out here.”

“I could shoot Zane right now. Is that what you want?”

But he could have shot him already.

If he wanted to kill us both, he could aim and have a chance of offing me before I got away.

That’s not what he wants. He has other plans for us…

“You killed Jason Kilbourne,” I say. “And you took Mike. If I come in there, you’ll just kill us both.”

He snickers. It’s a disturbing reaction.

“Leif,” he says. I cringe at him speaking my name. “I hope you don’t assume I want this. That I’m some kind of monster. I’m not.”

I’m expecting him to have a wild look in his eyes, but he seems subdued. There’s something disarming about his presence, even with everything happening before me. I can imagine how easy it was for a guy like this to lure Mike or Jason with that sort of calm demeanor.

“I didn’t plan to kill Jason. I enjoyed seeing him around campus. I think a lot of people enjoyed seeing that beautiful man. And he was so kind and curious about the world. I thought I was attracted to him, but as time went on, I knew it was something else. I wanted power over him. Not just once either. I wanted to make him wholly and totally mine. And so I did. But every time I was with him, I felt guilty afterward. I knew it was wrong. Monsters don’t know that, do they? I swore I would never hurt another soul. Promised it to God. And then I saw Mike…and the impulse came again. I fought it. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I did. I don’t want to hurt anyone, Leif. I’d think you and Zane of all people would understand that this is something in me, like your depression or Zane’s bipolar disorder. A switch flips, and then I’m stuck having to act on these urges.”

“You could get help for that; you don’t have to hurt anybody.”

He chuckles. “But both of you know how hard it is to get help once you snap. No, this thing has me. But I’m as much of a victim as Mike or Jason. Or you or Zane.”

The way he says it, it’s clear he’s already made up his mind. We’re his next victims. But there’s a plea in his expression, like he wants understanding, sympathy even, for what he plans to do to us.

“Outside of this,” he adds, “I really am a very good man.”

Although, he must know, even if this were his only fault, it disqualifies him from being that.

Isaac stares me down for a few moments longer. “I said come on in.”

Again, his words are so gentle, so contradictory to what’s happening. Almost lulls me into a false sense of security—but only almost as a series of hellish imaginings from true-crime TV shows flash through my mind.

I could still run.

I can still make that choice.

Leave Zane and call the cops.

But what if he kills Zane? Or what if he tries to take him somewhere? I could follow him, but what if I lost them? What if I was left wondering where he was, the way Zane was left wondering about Mike? I might as well be fucking dead. And this isn’t just about Zane and me. If I stay, Zane and I can die together. At least then the cops might have a chance of finding our bodies and seeing who did this to us before he finds his next victim.

I take a breath, then step over the threshold. I’ve made my decision.

Maybe it’s not the right one. Maybe this is the dumbest fucking thing I could do right now.

But I don’t give a fuck.

I can’t leave Zane here with this psycho. I won’t leave him.

I know he disagrees. I can tell as he continues pleading with me from behind his gag.

Isaac licks his lips and glances me over, like he’s sizing me up. He orders me to step away from him, move farther into the room, to the foot of Zane’s bed. I obey, and when I’m where he wants me, he says, “Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I look to Zane, whose eyes are shooting daggers at Isaac.

Maybe this will buy us some time. Or get him to let his guard down enough that I can at least make a go at him.

Or it will just end as it’s most likely to end.

I remove my shirt and toss it on the bed.

Isaac’s gaze travels over me; it’s as though it’s burning into my goddamn flesh.

Goose bumps prick across my arms as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

He licks his lips again and approaches.

“Now your pants.”

I can’t do this and look at Zane.

This can’t lead anywhere good, but I remind myself that if he approaches me, this might give me the opportunity to gain the upper hand.

I unfasten my belt, unbutton my fly, and pull my pants down. Once I remove them, I pull them up to my waist, sliding my hand in my front pocket for my pepper spray.

Isaac walks toward me. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

A chill runs up and down my spine, my fingers tickle the end of the bottle, but I remain still to keep from rousing further suspicion.

“You know I meant your briefs too—which I like, by the way.” He snatches the pants from me and tosses them in the nook beside the bed.

There goes my pepper spray.

Fuck.

My stomach churns.

“Sorry, I’m shy,” I say.

He steps even closer, and I notice Zane in my periphery.

He’s moving. What’s he doing?

I refuse to look since I don’t want to draw Isaac’s attention to whatever he’s attempting.

Isaac presses the gun between my pecs, runs it down my torso.

My stomach clenches. I feel fucking sick, and I’m sure the only reason I’m not vomiting right now is because some part of me realizes that could be the difference between life and death.

As the head of the gun touches my belly, near my navel, I’m shaking.

“Take. Them. Off,” he says softly.

I feel a rush of determination. I’m probably about to die, but that was probably how this was going to end anyway. I take my chance, moving fast, seizing his armed hand and dragging him to the floor with me. I’ll keep the gun out of his reach if it fucking kills me, but suddenly I feel something press against my shoulder blade, followed by a jolt of energy rushing through me, my body vibrating.

As I lose sensation in my limbs, I barely have a chance to process what’s wrong before I’m releasing the very thing I shouldn’t have let go of under any circumstances.

I collapse on my back, my muscles twitching and spasming as I see Isaac with the gun in one hand and a stun gun in the other.

“Feisty,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk before he turns the gun on me again.

A growl comes from behind him, and Zane jumps up, throwing his arms, still locked together, over Isaac’s head, clamping them back quickly as he puts Isaac into a chokehold.

Zane must’ve shimmied his wrists down and pulled them to the front.

Isaac pulls the gun back, aiming it at Zane’s head.

“No!” I call out just as I hear a click .

I wait for the explosive sound of a bullet firing and anticipate the horror of having to watch my Zane endure the brunt of it.

But there’s only that click .

Isaac’s eyes widen as he pulls the gun back and fires again. Still without success.

Is it empty? Is the safety on?

Whatever the hell is wrong, I struggle to my feet to help Zane, fighting against the echoes of Isaac’s attack that still reverberate through me.

By the time I’m up, Isaac’s thrown the gun to the floor and raises the stun gun, pressing it against Zane’s neck.

Zane rears his head back, releasing another muffled scream as I reach Isaac, seizing his arm and pulling the stun gun away from Zane, who still seems to have a good grip on our attacker, Isaac struggling for air.

I manage to pry the stun gun from his grip, and he collapses on top of Zane, crushing him beneath his weight.

Zane still has his arms locked around Isaac’s throat, choking him. Isaac’s face is bright red as he struggles in the hold, thrashing about. By now it’s apparent he’s not fighting anymore; these movements are his body’s last incoherent attempts at surviving before he goes limp.

His eyes roll back before closing. His limbs relax beside him as Zane studies him, checking to ensure the deed is done.

A rush of visceral relief moves through me.

It’s done.

Isaac’s unconscious.

And Zane is safe.

That’s all that fucking matters.