Page 120 of Psychopath

Quinn lowered his gaze. “No. I don’t.”

“But it’s nice to know what you’re considering if he goes for me first.”

Despite the situation, Quinn burst out laughing. He pushed his shoulder back against Zane’s and smiled as he said, “I’m not the fastest runner.”

“I’ll do my best to take my time dying.”

Quinn shook his head. “This is so—”

“If you say inappropriate, Quinn, I’ll…I’ll…” He glanced around the van. “I’ll do something unpleasant, just give me a chance to think of it.”

Quinn leaned his head back, allowing his eyes to slide shut for a few seconds. “How long until they find us?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve seriously got to get out of these jeans.” Zane stood up and faced away from Quinn as he picked the top button open, then tugged on the zipper. He got them halfway down his legs before remembering he should’ve removed his trainers first.

Quinn snorted at him, and Zane pulled off his socks, rolled them into a ball and threw it at Quinn.

“Hey…”

“You deserved that,” Zane said, raising his eyebrow. He dropped his jeans on the floor and turned around. Quinn swallowed and avoided looking at Zane, who was only wearing a pair of tight black boxer shorts.

“Ahhh,” Zane said. “That’s better.”

Quinn fixated on Zane’s toes curling, then relaxing against the floor. He slipped his shoes and socks off soon after, but he kept his trousers on despite the material sticking to the back of his legs. Being practically naked with Zane was dangerous, and they had no idea when they’d be found or who might fling open the door and catch them being inappropriate.

“You’ll be more comfortable if you take them off,” Zane said.

“I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Zane said. “So how should we pass the time, other than the most obvious thing to do…”

“Zane…”

“I said other than.” Zane smirked. “How about ‘I spy’?”

Quinn groaned and fell to his side. His cheek ended up against the cooler floor, and he sighed, and let his eyes shut as he shifted to lie down.

“It’s nicer like this.”

Zane moved to lie down next to him, both of them on their sides, facing each other. The van was long enough for them to stretch out.

“Now isn’t this romantic,” Zane said.

“Lying on a filthy floor?” Quinn lifted an eyebrow.

“I’ve fallen asleep in worse places.”

“I believe that.”

Zane poked him.

“You could’ve been hurt.” Quinn swallowed. “You might still get hurt if Virgil comes back or if we’re not found in time. The heat in here, it’s—”

“We’re going to be okay, Quinn. Trust me.”

Quinn closed his eyes, panting for breath. The air inside the van felt thin and unsatisfying. He gasped when Zane pressed his wet vest to Quinn’s brow, dabbing it on his cheeks and his neck. He stretched out his throat, encouraging Zane to caress him more, and while Zane did, Quinn’s mind went back to Mackie.

Zane had pulled Mackie from him and kissed him afterwards in his cell in the seg unit. He’d acted concerned, and that had been a constant throughout the six months. He’d expressed worry over Damon, demanding Quinn change the locks to ensure he was safe. Then, in the van, he’d broken out of his cubicle, using his shoulder as a battering ram, and pulled Quinn behind himself to face down Virgil.

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