Chapter 10

What the fuck just happened?

Zander’s head spun as he tried to recover his equilibrium, but that shit was hard to do. Control was hard to come by with Scotty pressed up against him, his arms around Zander’s neck.

Hugging him.

How did that even come about?

One minute he was trying not to kill the guy and the next he was blabbing his fucking life story? How did that even happen?

He gritted his teeth, tearing himself away from Scotty the Hugger. The younger man met his gaze with wide eyes and cheeks so red that Zander’s fingers flexed at the stupid urge to touch him. He recoiled at the mere thought. “Don’t do that,” he snapped. “Don’t touch me.”

Scotty flinched, ducking his head, and murmured an apology. “S-sorry. I d-didn’t?—”

“Hey!”

There he was, Vince the Savior, always rushing to Scotty’s rescue. Irritation flared, but Zander swallowed it down. He didn’t have time for any of this.

“Scotty, you don’t have to apologize for being a good person. It’s not your fault Zander’s a fucking psychopath.”

Zander bit back a snarl, refusing to take Vince’s bait. He got to his feet, keeping his eyes on Scotty as he backed away. “We are not friends.” Apparently, that needed to be said? “I don’t give a fuck about either of your sob stories. You’re here for a reason and that’s not to hold hands and indulge in self-pity or whatever the fuck you’re doing because of what happened to you.”

Scotty kept his gaze on the floor, but when Zander glanced at Vince he found the fed glaring at him. If looks could kill, Zander had no doubt he’d be rotting in a landfill somewhere.

“Why didn’t you tell me before that DuBois was your uncle?” Vince asked, eyes blazing.

“Why would I? I don’t know you and you don’t know me. I don’t go around telling randoms my life story.”

Vince smirked. “Clearly, you do. And it’s the so-called junkie who got you to spill your secrets.” His eyes mocked Zander and he wanted more than anything to close the distance between them and shut Vince up with a fist to the face.

“Someone is coming to kill you?” Scotty’s question broke Zander and Vince’s stare-off. “Zander’s uncle?” Fear gave his voice weight, but Zander didn’t care.

He didn’t.

“Come here.” Vince beckoned Scotty over and the younger man went to him, sitting next to Vince on the couch. Vince pulled him close, murmuring something in his ear, something too low for Zander to catch, but Scotty started trembling.

“I don’t want you to die.” Tears rolled down Scotty’s face. Big, fat drops. “I don’t want to die.”

He was a mess, a blubbering fucking mess, and Zander took a step toward him before he caught himself. He stopped, but not fast enough. Vince noticed. Because of course he did. And he didn’t break Zander’s gaze as he told Scotty, “Zander will not let you die. Zander will protect you.”

He really thought he could give Zander orders, didn’t he?

“But what about you?” Scotty asked Vince before he turned to Zander, eyes wet, lashes clumped together. “Will you protect him?”

“I’m protecting no one.” There should be some vehemence behind those words. There should be more force, more surety. What kinda voodoo had those two done on him? “If my uncle wants you dead then you’re dead.”

Vince’s eyes darkened. “You walked away from your uncle. Why?”

That was the very last thing Zander was about to discuss. Vince stared at him, and he stared right back at Vince, barely registering Scotty getting up with a sniff, wiping his face as he walked out of the room.

“My business with my uncle has nothing to do with you,” Zander growled.

“Of course it does!” Vince shot back. “You’re about to hand me over to him, Zander. Of course it does.”

“I didn’t do shit!” Zander snarled, poking his own chest as he closed the distance between them. “Your people handed you over a long time ago. Just your dumb luck you ended up at my shop.” He’d bet anything that Vince never considered the possibility that his own people, those he trusted the most, would sell him out. Likely those same people never thought they’d do it either, but his uncle always found your weak spot. And everyone had them.

Vince gazed up at him. “You could do something,” he said softly. “You could let me go. You could let Scotty go. You could?—”

“No. Not happening.”

Vince lifted his chin and Zander pretended he didn’t see the hurt and disappointment in his eyes when he said, “So I’ll be your bargaining chip? And what will Scotty be?”

Scotty would be whatever Zander needed him to be. But he didn’t answer Vince. No need. He broke their stare, going over to the drawer where he kept the burner phone hidden and then retrieving it. As Vince watched, he powered it on and it vibrated, alerting him to multiple missed calls and texts from Derri.

He immediately dialed his ex.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Derri greeted him with a hiss in his ear. “I’ve been calling and texting you.”

“I was busy,” Zander told him. “What’s up?” He kept his back to Vince and his voice low. “Talk to me.”

“Company is just about over an hour out.”

Fuck.

“The order is to keep the marshal alive and take him back to Jersey.”

Zander cocked his head. “Okay, that’s new.” They don’t usually take hostages. By the time DuBois’s killers showed up, it was to do just that…kill.

“Exactly!” Derri’s voice lowered. “And if you think about it, why is Dubois himself coming to deal with the marshal? Why not let the guys handle it?”

“Because it’s personal,” Zander murmured.

“Yup. The marshal has something he wants.”

Ah. And just like that, the plot thickens. Zander turned around slowly, eyeing Vince as he reclined on the couch. “Derri, I’m gonna go, but I’ll keep my phone on. Call or text if anything comes up.” He ended the call before his ex responded, shoving the phone into his pocket as he advanced on Vince once again.

“That name is familiar. Derri.” Vince repeated it with a frown. “Derri Parker, right? Got lots of surveillance images of the two of you.”

“He’s my ex.” Zander willingly gave up that bit of info because it didn’t really matter.

“Oh.” Vince blinked. “We didn’t know that.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Zander snorted. “You guys don’t know half the shit you think you do.”

“Why did you leave him behind when you left?”

Oh, they definitely weren’t talking about that. “What do you have that DuBois wants?”

“What?”

“You heard me, so I’m not gonna repeat myself.” Zander lowered himself into a crouch, bringing himself eye to eye with Vince. “My uncle doesn’t involve himself in shit like this. If he wants you dead then he sends out people like me and Derri to handle it, but now he’s coming for you personally. And you’re not to be killed, at least not right away. He’s taking you back to Jersey with him.”

Vince just stared at him.

“He wants you alive for a reason, and that can only mean you have something, be it information or otherwise, that he wants.”

Vince’s expression gave away nothing. “Promise me you’ll protect Scotty when I’m gone.”

Zander bristled. “I’m not?—”

“Fucking promise!” Vince gritted out as he struggled into a sitting position. “You strike me as a man who keeps his word. I know people like you always have these weird honor codes and shit. I want you to promise you’ll protect Scotty, from himself, from his uncle. Zander, please! I’m begging you to do something good for once in your fucking life. Protect him.”

“Why do you care?”

“Nobody cared about me. No one protected me.” Vince’s eyes glistened. “And I know you think this has something to do with David, the boy I didn’t save—and maybe it does—but I see something good in Scotty. He never had a chance because no one ever gave him one. He deserves a good life, so when I’m dead, I want you to make sure he gets it.”

That was— “You’re trusting me with that?”

“Yes.” Vince nodded. “Promise you’ll do it and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

The door opened then and they both turned toward it as Scotty entered, clutching a bag of potato chips that he hesitantly held out to Zander when he got to his feet.

“Here. I said I’d get you one if you told us your story.” Scotty fidgeted, lips worrying his bottom lip, eyes still red but dry. “I try to always keep my word.” He paused. “And you deserve it.”

Something inside Zander quivered. The fuck? He turned to Vince as if the marshal might have the answer to what was happening, but all Vince did was smile. At Zander. At Scotty, whose hand was still outstretched, offering Zander the chips.

“Thanks.” He couldn’t help the gruffness in his voice as he took the snack, fingertips brushing Scotty’s. “I’ll do it,” he blurted out, turning to Vince. “You have my word.”

Relief washed over Vince’s face and he nodded. “Good.” He patted a space on the couch next to him. “Now, sit down, you two. I have a story to tell.”