Chapter 11

Zander didn’t haveto spell it out. Vince recognized his waning hours in the depths of the other man’s eyes. Maybe it was the pain in his shoulder influencing him, but he refused to dwell on the things he couldn’t change.

Or maybe he was just tired and only saw benefit in giving up.

Either way, he waited for Zander and Scotty to draw close enough that he didn’t have to lift his voice when he spoke. Zander still held himself aloof, standing over them instead of sitting, but Vince wasn’t fooled. Something about what Scotty said or did had resonated with their reluctant host. Scotty rattled Zander. It was a pity Vince wouldn’t be around to see more of Zander looking all clueless and shaken…if only for the briefest moment.

Murray DuBois was on his way, drawing ever closer on his quest to get to Vince. He would take his secrets to the grave…after sharing a little bit of it with the two men waiting for him to speak.

“I don’t know how I ended up in this field,” he began with a low chuckle. “I didn’t allow myself to do stupid shit like dream or have goals when I was younger. Dreams were for the fortunate ones. Goals were for those who could afford them. I wasn’t fortunate and I could barely afford to keep myself from starving most days. But someone, somewhere, saw something in me and offered a hand when I needed it. He gave me my first job, which led to me discovering I liked helping people, liked righting wrongs. It took off from there.”

Sometimes it felt like yesterday. Other times, it felt as if he’d been alive and struggling to remain that way for eons.

“I felt as if I finally found where I belonged when I got this job.” He sighed, allowing a self-deprecating smile to curve his lips. “I fell in love with someone I worked with and I assumed they felt the same.” He glanced away, that familiar shame tightening his shoulders and turning his words bitter. “I was wrong.” So wrong. He thought about the spectacle he’d made of himself, refusing to accept the rejection all because he was afraid to go back to who and what he truly was…alone. “I spent some time in a hospital, got diagnosed with anxiety and depression, and began working on myself. I was making progress. Then a few months back, armed men ambushed me in my home.”

Seated on the floor facing Vince, gaze locked on him, Scotty shifted. Above them, Zander didn’t show any outward reaction.

“They figured I knew the true identity of one of the most dangerous men you never wanted to meet.” He held Zander’s gaze. “They wanted me to tell them who he was.” And Vince had appeared on their radar because he’d been careless. He’d allowed his hurt feelings to cause him to make dangerous mistakes. Even thinking about it now, he had to briefly close his eyes at his fucking stupidity. He’d spoken to one person—one—when he’d been three beers and two whiskeys deep.

And that was all it took.

He licked his lips and reopened his eyes to find Zander watching him, gaze hooded. He probably didn’t even care what Vince had to say, but he was listening. He’d promised to take care of Scotty if Vince told him his secret, so Vince would follow through on that bargain. “I am ashamed to say I considered it for the briefest moment.” Just uttering the words gutted him. That he even thought about it… “Because you see, the man they wanted was the one I’d lost to.” Wasn’t as if there’d been any real competition. “He’s married to the person I loved.” He swallowed. A hand settled on his knee and he glanced down to find Scotty touching him, soothing him with wide eyes and a tender expression as if he understood.

Nobody could, but Vince appreciated the gesture for what it was.

“I knew immediately who they were, the people who broke into my place and destroyed it before jamming a gun to my face and demanding things.” He turned back to Zander. “I knew they worked for DuBois. I gave them nothing so they retaliated by giving me two bullets and leaving me to bleed out.”

Scotty made a sound.

Vince had thought for sure he’d been a goner then. He’d been almost angry when he’d woken in the hospital with a weird feeling of déjà vu.

“They kept coming once they figured out I was still alive. Killed one of my colleagues. Destroyed my home.” He swallowed. “After a while, I ran.” Because apparently, he wasn’t that eager to die. Who knew. But his time was up, thanks to some fucking cosmic joke that brought him to this place and to DuBois’s goddamn nephew. Vince lifted his chin, daring Zander, “If you think I’ll be giving up that information to you, you can go ahead and put that bullet in me yourself. Right now.” In a weak moment, he’d almost destroyed lives, all because he’d been rejected. No one had promised him anything, he’d simply gotten ahead of himself. He’d been the only one with their heart invested and there was nobody to blame but him. He refused to be so petty and vindictive as to destroy a family simply because he’d gotten his feelings hurt.

Zander smirked as he drew closer. Vince tensed. Scotty must have caught on because he shifted closer to Vince, the hand on his knee trembling slightly.

Once he was within touching distance, Zander lowered himself to the floor, sitting with his legs crossed under him, his head cocked as he studied Vince. Everything in Vince wanted to hide. He didn’t have to ask to know Zander wouldn’t even be tempted to rat out his people, to give them up for any reason.

And Vince almost chuckled, because was he really sitting there, coming out on the losing end of a comparison between himself and a trained killer?

“Do you want to know why I left my uncle and his world behind? Why I went through the trouble of finding a body that was close in size to mine, have it burned beyond recognition, and have Derri pass it off as mine so my uncle would think I was dead?” Zander’s voice rumbled, lifting the hair on Vince’s nape.

Scotty shifted as if he were suddenly restless, staring between Vince and Zander, expression enraptured. This had to be a whole new world to him because as fucked up as his own life appeared to have been, the one Scotty now found himself trapped in was something entirely different, and he seemed to just be catching on to the danger he’d walked into.

“Why—” Vince cleared his throat. “Why did you leave?” he asked Zander.

The killer smiled. In all the surveillance photos and videos Vince had studied of him, not once had he ever smiled in them. Not even when he’d been side by side with who Vince now knew was his ex, Derri Parker. Zander’s smile now was no tender thing. No. This was feral and cutting and filled with darkness.

And beautiful.

So very beautiful, Vince held his breath for a moment.

“I found out everything he told me about my family’s death had been a lie.”

Vince frowned. “How so?”

Something lit Zander’s gaze from within and Vince understood, staring into the charged depths of Zander’s eyes, just why he’d been the deadliest of all of DuBois’s men. “He was the one behind it.”

Vince blinked.

“Wait. You think your uncle killed your entire family?” How Scotty was able to put voice to that unimaginable act was beyond Vince.

Zander’s gaze broke from Vince’s and shifted to Scotty. “I don’t know the whys yet and I don’t have proof—yet—but yes.”

“My God.” If that were true…the kind of betrayal Zander must feel.

“W-why did you leave then?” Scotty asked Zander. “Why not stay and get the proof you need?”

“Because I would have killed him and I need him alive. I had to get out of there. Derri is helping me search for answers. We figured my uncle wouldn’t be as careful if he thought I was dead and no longer a threat,” Zander said. “I was driving south with no real destination in mind. I only stopped in this town because my eyes were burning and I needed some rest. I stayed in a dingy motel overnight and the next morning, while checking out, I heard a guy complaining about possibly shutting down his garage. I’d always been good at fixing up cars so I bought the place off him then and there, and here I am.”

Vince sat up straighter. “And your uncle is headed here for me…” He let his words trail off as a dastardly picture came into sharp focus.

“He wants you.” Zander shrugged. “And I want answers.”

And he would use Vince as the prod to get his uncle to talk. He’d already hinted that Vince would be his bargaining chip, hadn’t he?

“You can’t do that!” Scotty shot to his feet, fists bunched at his sides as he glared at Zander, who remained on the floor, a bored expression on his face. “You can’t do that to Vince.”

“Scotty.” Vince held out a hand to him. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“But it’s not fine.” Scotty’s body trembled. “You can’t do that to him!” He jabbed a finger in Vince’s direction. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Scotty. Calm down.” Vince spoke to Scotty, but he kept his gaze on Zander. He didn’t want Scotty getting hurt, and it would take nothing at all for Zander to decimate him. His heart thudded painfully in his chest when Zander stood and faced Scotty. “Zander, don’t. I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t hurt him.”

But Zander ignored Vince. Scotty too. They just squared off as if about to start throwing punches and God bless Scotty, but he was so out of his fucking league. Vince swallowed the pain that lanced through him and struggled upright, lowering his legs to the floor.

“You can’t use Vince to get back at your uncle.” Scotty had apparently found his backbone? His voice? And he was using it to protect Vince. Well, he was trying. Zander wasn’t someone you reasoned with, and Vince had to make sure Scotty understood that before shit got out of hand. “I won’t let you.”

Zander chuckled at that as Vince pushed to his feet, standing—and wobbling—on shaky legs.

“You won’t let me?” Zander stepped closer to Scotty. “How will you stop me? Show me.” His hand shot out, lightning fast, and he grasped Scotty by the throat.

“No! No.” Fuck. Vince reached out to grab Zander’s t-shirt with his good arm. “Let him go! Don’t you fucking hurt him.” A stab of pain shot through him and his grip on Zander faltered, his knees giving out.

He would have crashed to the floor if hands didn’t immediately catch him.

Zander’s hands, tight and sure.

Scotty’s, not as steady, but there on him.

“Easy.” That was Zander muttering to Vince. “Lift him,” he said to Scotty. “Let’s take him back to the couch.”

They did, working together to lift Vince and carry him the short distance back to the couch, where they helped him to lie back down.

“Are you okay?” Scotty hovered over him, expression worried, wringing his hands. “You shouldn’t have gotten up.”

Vince opened his mouth to speak, but Zander leaned over him and snarled, “Don’t you fucking move from that couch. Not without one of us helping you.”

Vince grabbed Zander’s arm. “Don’t put your hands on Scotty. Not like that.”

“Vince, I’m fine,” Scotty protested. “You don’t?—”

“And you.” Vince swung his gaze to Scotty. “Don’t go picking fights with a fucking professional killer. He will literally kill you and I don’t want that. Please.”

A flush colored Scotty’s face and he ducked his head. “I just wanted to protect you.”

“I know.” Vince sighed. “And I appreciate it, but Zander has made up his mind. Nothing we can do about that.” He squared his shoulders. “Come sit next to me.” He realized then he was still holding on to Zander, who could’ve moved away but hadn’t.

No, Zander was staring between Vince and Scotty as if he’d never seen them before.

“You can sit next to me too,” Vince told Zander as Scotty settled at the end of the couch, picking up Vince’s legs and draping them over his lap. Vince scooted backward, toward the back of the couch, making room for Zander, then added quickly, “If you want.” Zander’s nostrils flared. “I know?—”

“Didn’t we already establish you feds don’t know shit?” Zander lifted an eyebrow, holding Vince’s gaze as he sank into the space Vince had made for him on the couch.

Vince stared at him.

Zander stared back.

And Scotty made an amused sound while stroking Vince’s legs.