Bandit is sprawled on his back on the bed, one arm hanging off the mattress, the other draped over his eyes.

I freeze, my feet digging roots into the floor. My eyes, however, follow their own path. They start at his long and elegant toes and move up. Past the sheet twisted around his midsection to the well-defined planes of his abs and chest. The air gets stuck in my throat. He, uh…doesn’t sleep with a shirt. Hell, maybe he doesn’t sleep with any shorts, either. The sheet blocks my view, and I certainly won’t be moving it to find out.

But wow. He looks good draped in blue light. Really good. Surprise, not at all surprised.

I release a shaky breath. Where is the Voice when I need her? I could use someone to order me around right about now. To prod me unmercifully with electric shocks until I comply.

Come on, Voice! Zap my brain. I don’t know if I can do this by myself. I need you.

Instead of a wave of electricity, however, memories wash over me. Bandit’s cinnamon toothpaste taste when he kissed me on the balcony. The way his eyebrows lift, haughty and aloof. His undisguised pain when he talked about my photo of the little boy and his grandmother.

I try to stem the tide of memories, try to recall the mantra. Kill Bandit, don’t think, kill Bandit…

It’s no use. So effective before, the mantra’s now just a mouthful of words whose meaning I can’t comprehend.

Can I really do this? Can I actually aim a gun at this guy’s chest—and kill him?

I’m shaking now, trembling from head to toe. I’m not a murderer. But I never thought I would tell a stranger I loved him, either. I never dreamed I would frame my best friend.

Extraordinary circumstances require extraordinary actions.

I may not want to kill him, but I have to. The lives of millions of people are at stake. The life of my child, with her springy curls.

I swore I would go to the ends of time to keep her safe. Well, here’s my chance to prove it. Because after I kill this boy, I will surely go to hell.

The breath flows out of my body until I’m completely, utterly still. Until my mind is devoid of all thought, all memory. I cross to the bed in three long strides and pick up his hand. So warm, so alive. But not for long.