Chapter 16

“Hold him still!”

Scotty tried, but he was helpless. A feeling he was too familiar with, one he’d never hated as much as he did then. Zander was bleeding out in the back seat of the Charger, where they’d laid him after Scotty had helped Vince carry the unconscious man over to the car.

The stench of blood filled his nostrils, immediately taking him back to a place he would rather not revisit, but he had no defense against the memories assaulting him. His mother on the floor. Dark blood framing her head like a macabre halo, the odor thick and overpowering.

Vince’s head was bowed, his forehead creased in concentration and worry as he worked to staunch the bleeding from the huge cut in Zander’s side. A cut that had bled enough to soak the car seat, its sharp scent permeating the air. Scotty didn’t know how Zander had gotten hurt but he could guess.

But he’d made it back to them, so did that mean they were safe?

Dumb question, because they weren’t.

Zander wasn’t, and Scotty couldn’t do shit to help him but stand there and shake with his hands red and sticky with Zander’s blood.

“Here.” Vince grabbed Scotty’s hands and tugged him forward. “Put pressure on it, let me get more cloth.”

His words were muffled by the sound of rushing water in Scotty’s ears, and was the trembling in his knees getting worse? Because he felt as if it was. His mouth was so dry, he’d give anything to have a bottle of water right then.

“Scotty?”

These were the moments that usually drove him out onto the streets in search of something strong to numb the pain and dim the memories. He’d curl up somewhere dark and wait it out. The episodes never lasted long, but fuck, they laid him flat every time.

The sound of his mother’s head hitting the edge of the counter.

The pool of blood under her head slowly getting bigger and bigger.

And the coppery smell.

Fresh and so sharp, he tasted it at the back of his throat.

That scent had remained in his nostrils for months afterward.

“Scotty!”

He flinched, lashes fluttering wildly. “Wh-what?”

Vince got up from his crouch and grabbed Scotty’s chin. His hands were wet.

With blood.

They shook, too, though not as badly as Scotty’s. “I need you here with me,” Vince told him softly. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for you to melt down.” He pursed his lips and glanced down at Zander. “He needs us.”

Zander looked so vulnerable. Scotty hadn’t thought he’d ever witness Zander in that state, but there the mechanic was, out cold, helpless to protect himself. That job now fell to Vince and Scotty, and he—He couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry.” The tears welled up in his eyes unbidden. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t want to disappoint Vince. Didn’t want to disappoint Zander. But the blood… With every inhale, his heart thumped harder and harder, louder and louder.

And he sweated. His armpits were damp, his hairline too.

“Hey, just stay with me. Okay?” Vince peered into his eyes, wiping Scotty’s cheek with a thumb. “Stay with me. I need you.”

He’d never been needed before. The enormity of it hitched his breath, but Scotty wanted to be worthy of that kind of trust. He wanted to be someone not ruled by their demons, not too afraid to push past them. He nodded shakily, inhaling. “Okay.”

After one last look, Vince jerked his head in Zander’s direction. “It’s just the three of us. I don’t know who we can trust. I don’t know what’s waiting for us out there, but we can’t stay in this parking garage forever. The sun will come up in a few hours and we can’t be here.” He dropped his hand from Scotty’s face, expression grave. “He’s bad,” he murmured, almost as if he couldn’t bear to speak the words. “And I don’t know what the fuck to do.” He blew out a breath. “Come, put pressure on the wound.’’

Clearly, Vince was afraid and unsure, but he wasn’t allowing it to freeze him up. The least Scotty could do was follow the other man’s lead. So he crawled back into the car through the front driver’s side and crouched between the two front seats, leaning into the back and doing as Vince instructed, pressing down on Zander’s wound.

Zander flinched, head tossing back and forth. Both of the car’s back doors were open, his head hanging out one side, his legs the other. His skin was ashen, lashes moving though his eyes didn’t open.

When he’d collapsed after exiting the tunnel, Scotty had screamed, sure Zander was gone. He’d clamped a hand over his mouth to smother his cries while Vince had checked Zander over and declared him still alive.

Still alive but hurt badly.

What were they supposed to do? How were they going to keep him alive? If they couldn’t stay in their location, where could they go that would ensure their safety?

Vince crawled through the back, careful not to jostle Zander’s legs, holding several strips of cloth. “Okay, move your hands. Help me with this.”

Scotty did as instructed, easing Zander’s body onto one side, then the other, in order for Vince to wrap the cloth around his torso and then pull it tight enough to be effective in helping to slow—or better yet stop—the bleeding.

As Vince tightened the makeshift bandage, Zander jerked awake with a cry, legs kicking out.

“Shit, Zander! Scotty, hold him!”

Scotty held Zander’s shoulders down. “Zander, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He kept murmuring it over and over, even though his voice wobbled and his vision blurred. Eventually, Zander stopped moving.

Scotty’s heart stuttered, but when he blinked to clear his vision and gazed down at the wounded man, he found Zander’s eyes open.

Unfocused and heavy with pain, but open.

“Zander! Vince, he’s awake! You’re okay,” Scotty told Zander. It wasn’t true, but it didn’t matter, not then. “We’re gonna take care of you.”

Zander’s lips moved and Scotty bent over him, trying to make out the words. “Derri. Call...”

Vince squeezed in next to Scotty, bending closer to Zander’s moving lips. “A number.” Vince jerked his head up, gaze frantic. “It’s a phone number. He wants us to call Derri.” He gestured wildly. “Get me one of the phones.”

Scotty scrambled out of the vehicle ass-first, racing around to the trunk where they’d left the bag stashed with the money and phones. He powered on one of the phones and raced back to Vince’s side.

Zander’s eyes were closed once again, but Vince didn’t look as grave as before when he got out of the car and took the phone from Scotty, punching in the number Zander had given him. He put the call on speaker and they waited impatiently as it rang.

Could they trust Derri? Maybe he would save Zander, but what about Vince? And Scotty? Scotty wanted to ask Vince, but the words stuck in his throat.

“Yeah.”

“Is this Derri?

A pause. “Who is this?”

“Zander is hurt.” Vince uttered the words bluntly. “He gave me this number and—” He fisted his free hand, jaw flexing. “He’s been stabbed and it’s not looking good. I?—”

“Is this the marshal?”

“Yes. But I—” Vince scrubbed a hand over his face. “Listen, I don’t know what happened with DuBois, but Zander is unconscious. He gave me this number, but I need to know if you can be trusted. He seems to think so.”

“Give me your location,” the person demanded, tone brusque.

“How do we know we can trust you?” Scotty blurted out.

“Listen, I don’t give a fuck about you, but I’m not about to let Zander die. Give. Me. Your. Location.”

Vince hesitated.

Scotty stared at him, chewing on his bottom lip. They had to go with Zander’s decision. He’d wanted them to call this guy. So Scotty put his trust in Zander and hurriedly shared where they were. “A parking garage a block over from Zander’s place. Parking level three.” Vince’s fingers tightened around the phone, but he didn’t speak, allowing Scotty to continue. He did. “Zander gives a fuck about us. You don’t but he does. He protected us, so if you or your people hurt us, Zander will be pissed.”

The voice on the other end simply grunted. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Guess that meant in ten minutes they’d know if Zander’s trust was misplaced or not.

Derri showedup with two other men.

Vince stood outside the car with a knife in his hand, a pale and clearly exhausted Scotty slumped in the front passenger seat, his head tilted back, eyes closed.

Zander was still out, stretched out in the back seat, moaning every so often.

One minute everything was still and silent, and the next, three men were in front of him. Vince tensed. He recognized Derri, a tall and slender motherfucker with a scar on his chin, blue eyes that held the same scary darkness as Zander’s, and severely cropped blond hair. His gaze bounced off Vince and then Scotty, lips curling in obvious distaste. But when he finally spotted Zander, he began barking orders.

Vince watched intently as they worked on Zander. One of the men had to be a doctor because he pulled out a bag and started removing vials and shit.

Scotty got out of the car and stood at Vince’s side, taking it all in just as quietly. Vince remained tense, on high alert. His eyes burned and he was beyond exhausted, but he couldn’t rest. Zander had trusted Derri, but Vince didn’t. The only people he trusted were Scotty and Zander, and Zander was unconscious, fighting for his life.

He’d gotten hurt while dealing with his uncle on Vince’s behalf. Vince swallowed the guilt, fisting his hands when the doctor guy finished cleaning Zander’s wound and began stitching him up.

Zander cried out when the sharp needle punctured his skin, but he still didn’t wake.

“Be careful with him,” Scotty pleaded. “You’re hurting him.” He moved forward but Derri stepped in front of him.

Zander’s ex didn’t bother hiding his contempt when he said, “You two can take off. We’ve got this.”

Vince shook his head. “We’re not leaving.”

Derri lifted an eyebrow. “No?”

“Did Zander know you’d be coming down here with his uncle?” Vince tossed back at him. “I’m guessing not. He thinks he can trust you, but I don’t, so I’m staying”—he put an arm around Scotty’s stiff shoulders—“we’re staying until Zander tells us to leave.”

Derri cocked his head, eyes and words condemning Vince when he said, “He’s in the condition he’s in because of you. I could deal with the two of you now and beg his forgiveness later. He’ll give it.”

“Will he?” Derri’s words made Vince’s insides tremble because he didn’t know if they were true or not. Derri and Zander had a relationship that spanned years; they’d built trust and respect between them. What did Vince and Scotty have? Still, affecting a bravado he pulled out of his ass, Vince shrugged. “Do what you have to do but we’re sticking to you motherfuckers like glue. Someone needs to look out for Zander.”

Derri scoffed and opened his mouth to say something else, but the doctor called out to him.

“D, I’m done. We gotta get him out of here.” He stood and tugged bloodied gloves off his hands, dropping them into a garbage bag the third guy—silent so far—held out.

Without looking back at Vince and Scotty, Derri turned away, addressing the doctor. “Can we move him? Is it safe?”

“We have to.” The doctor gazed down at Zander, expression pinched.

Vince caught the worry on Derri’s features before he smothered it. Derri cared about Zander’s well-being. That had to be a good thing. It meant he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Zander, right? But did that extend to Vince and Scotty? Would Derri see killing them as hurting Zander?

Scotty took Vince’s hand, threading their fingers, and Vince held him tightly as they watched the three men maneuver Zander, getting him out of the car’s back seat and taking him over to a large SUV parked a short distance away that Vince hadn’t even seen or heard pull up.

What the hell?

The men got Zander into the car and Vince was grateful that they took their time with him, careful not to jostle him too much. Vince released Scotty’s hand to grab the bag with money and phones Zander had stashed in the trunk of his getaway car, wincing with the act. He’d been so focused on other things he’d forgotten about his wound.

“Bring them,” Derri barked.

Then the silent guy—clearly he was the muscle—was there, grabbing Vince by the injured shoulder.

Vince hissed in pain, the bag falling from his hand that was suddenly useless. “Fuck, take it easy.”

“Don’t hurt him!” Scotty yelled, pushing Muscle Man away.

In a blink, the guy had a gun pressed to a terrified Scotty’s forehead, eyes gleaming with obvious bloodlust.

Shit! “Hey, take it easy. Put that fucking gun down.” Vince tried to keep his voice even, but he could feel Scotty shaking next to him. Vince didn’t know how he would manage it, but he was going to kill that fucker if he even left a mark on Scotty.

Muscle Man didn’t twitch, didn’t speak, he just kept the gun in Scotty’s pale face until Derri yelled out from the front passenger side of the SUV. “Trem, get your ass in gear, we don’t have time for this!”

Muscle Man—Trem—lowered the gun reluctantly, securing it in his waistband, and gestured for Vince and Scotty to go to the SUV. Scotty picked up the bag Vince had dropped and Vince took his free hand, tugging him close.

“Are you okay?” he murmured. But of course he knew the younger man wasn’t. From the moment Zander had collapsed upon coming out of the tunnel, Scotty had been struggling.

Scotty made a muffled sound. “Where are we going?

“I don’t know,” Vince admitted. “But we have to stay with them to make sure Zander is okay. Once he’s awake, we’ll take it from there.”

Scotty nodded shakily.

Behind them, Trem waited until they climbed into the SUV, then poured what looked like gasoline onto the Charger, dousing it completely. Then he lit a match and tossed it.

Scotty gripped Vince’s forearm with a gasp as the vehicle caught fire.

Vince understood the act. They couldn’t leave any evidence behind. He couldn’t think about what any of it meant with him being the law and the others around him being criminals. Things were different, the rules were different, and he didn’t know how he would proceed when it was all said and done.

Once he was satisfied with his work, the car quickly becoming fully engulfed in flames, Trem got into the driver’s seat of the SUV. The doctor was in the back with Zander and Derri rode shotgun.

Vince glanced behind him to see they’d laid Zander out in the SUV’s third row. He was so pale. So vulnerable.

Vince hated it.

“Let’s go,” Derri ordered, and Trem sped off with a squeal of tires.

Was Derri the one in charge? “Where is DuBois?” Vince asked into the vehicle’s silent interior. “What happened between him and Zander?” Other than Zander almost dying.

Nobody answered.

They could be taking Vince, Scotty, and Zander to DuBois. Why hadn’t Vince thought of that? He’d offered himself and Scotty up so fucking easily. “Are you taking us to DuBois?” he demanded. “Zander protected me from him and now you’re gonna hand me over, is that it?”

Scotty clutched him, burying his face in Vince’s neck, body shaking. It was too late. Whatever was waiting for him on the other side, he had to protect Scotty. Had to protect Zander. How would he do that?

Goddamn it, what had he done?

“Let Scotty go and I’ll come with you.”

“Vince, no!” Scotty held him tighter.

“Fucking fed. You believe this guy?” Derri shook his head from the front with a snort. “DuBois is dead, so you can table the false bravado.” He glanced over his shoulder at Vince. “You wanted to come with us, so you’re coming with us.” He winked. “Buckle up.”