Chapter 25

Vince saidthey were in Brooklyn. As in New York.

Scotty stood on the balcony of the penthouse they’d been deposited in, staring out over blue waters, a large wheel in the distance, his hands squeezing the metal railing.

They’d almost died.

Vince had been the one to shake Scotty awake, and he’d come to awareness with gunshots ringing in his ears. A shootout had happened right outside their closed bedroom door. Terror had frozen him then and if Scotty had to be honest with himself, that terror hadn’t left him yet. He’d almost fucking wet himself when their bedroom door was kicked in and armed men rushed in, their faces covered. Vince, even with the two guns Scotty knew he had, had no opportunity to defend them, and he and Scotty had been overpowered in no time.

He’d expected death, had clung to Vince—who’d gripped him just as tightly—with tears streaming down his face. Scotty had been sure they were about to die. But instead, the armed men had led them out of the bedroom, past the fallen bodies that littered the house—bodies that had to be Zander’s men, according to Vince—and outside into waiting vehicles. They’d separated them and that’s when Scotty had found an ounce of bravery to fight, to scream. Vince had done the same; Scotty had heard him yelling, cursing, threatening.

But it had done no good.

They were shoved into separate vehicles, mouths taped shut, bags over their heads, and handcuffed. Scotty had tried to hold on to his bravery. He’d tried to act the way he’d seen Vince and even Zander act, but the truth was he’d been scared shitless, convinced whoever had kidnapped them was taking them to their deaths. He wouldn’t see Vince again. Wouldn’t see Zander. Would Zander even know what happened to them?

The drive had felt endless until it actually ended and he was led, the bag still over his head, to this place. When they’d finally removed the obstruction over his eyes, the tape over his mouth, and the handcuffs, Vince had been waiting for him. Scotty had held on to his tears just until they were left alone, then he’d collapsed into Vince’s arms. They were locked in with masked and armed men outside the door and had no phones, no way of contacting anyone. And there’d been no explanation as to who’d taken them or what they wanted.

But Vince suspected it had to do with Zander.

They just had to wait, he’d told Scotty.

They’d been taken in the early hours of the morning. Now, night was only a few hours away. Food had arrived with a knock on the door, but other than that there’d been no contact with anyone else. Scotty was trying to be brave, but he knew he wasn’t pulling it off. He’d experienced so much trauma with his uncle growing up, with his time doing drugs on the streets, but this life was something entirely different. This world he’d stepped into, the one that Vince and Zander occupied, was something else.

His heart was loud in his ears, breaths even louder as he blinked and blinked to clear the tears from his eye. His mind kept racing, kept seeing those dead bodies, replaying everything over and over. No escape. He had no escape.

Fuck!

He spun away from the view of Coney Island, hands lifting to grip his hair, doubling over.

“Scotty?”

He couldn’t even react to the panic in Vince’s voice as the other man rushed over, wrapping strong arms around him.

“Hey.” Vince cradled his face. “Look at me, look at me.”

But Scotty couldn’t see him, not with the tears in his eyes.

“Ssh. Come here.” Vince kissed his forehead. “You’re okay.” He hugged Scotty close, rubbing his back. “Breathe. Breathe for me.”

Scotty was trying, he was, but it felt as if his throat was locked off, trapping the air in his lungs. His chest was too tight, blood ringing in his ears. And he just wanted to drop to the floor.

“Fuck.” Vince dragged them back into the penthouse, over to the couch. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He kept repeating those words as he kissed Scotty all over his face, rocking them back and forth. “I’ve got you.”

Tears leaked from Scotty’s eyes and he buried his face in Vince’s neck, hiding his shame. Hiding his weakness. He was useless, wasn’t he? Vince was trying to figure out a way to get them out of this predicament and here Scotty was, crying, losing his shit.

Maybe he wasn’t meant to be with them. No wonder Zander had left. Maybe Scotty wasn’t supposed to have this life. He should have stayed back in Alabama and kept living the life he was accustomed to, the one he knew. That one didn’t have as many dangers. That one didn’t have so many things—people—he could lose.

“I’m here for you,” Vince whispered at his temple. “Whatever you need, I’ve got you.”

If it weren’t for him, Scotty might have folded in on himself a long time ago. But Vince refused to let him. He gave love generously, endlessly, and greedy Scotty gobbled it all up and kept going back for more. Vince was steadiness and comfort and care.

But what was Scotty? What did he offer?

What did Vince get from him?

He lifted his head, wiping the tears from his eyes as he parted his lips to ask, but a sound came at the door. They both stiffened, Vince releasing him to reach for his waistband, searching for a gun that wasn’t there because their kidnappers had taken it.

The door opened and someone filled the doorway and then stepped through.

Scotty gasped.

Vince made a sound.

Zander.

There were other men with him, but Zander… Zander was there. He’d come for them. When his concerned gaze landed on them on the couch, he rushed over, dropping to his knees before them, arms going around both Scotty and Vince.

“Fuck,” Zander breathed out, eyes closing briefly. “You’re okay? Are you okay?” He touched Scotty’s face. “Baby?—”

Scotty launched himself at him. Zander fell back on the floor with a muffled “oomph” as Scotty wrapped himself around him, hands around his neck, legs wrapping around his waist when Zander managed to sit up. Scotty held him so tightly he didn’t know how the other man managed to breathe, but Scotty could.

Vince joined them down on the floor, a hand on the small of Scotty’s back just under where Zander’s hands were.

Scotty could breathe now. Vince had been included in their embrace and Scotty held on to them both, the way Zander held on to them both, the way Vince held on to them both. They were ignoring the fact that there were other men in the room, witnessing all this.

Zander didn’t seem to care as he whispered promises meant to stay between the three of them.

“I never should’ve left you. I’m so fucking sorry. I missed you. I’m here now. I’m here now. I’m here now.”

He was. He’d come for them.

“I love you two so fucking much.”

There was so much that needed to be dealt with. But Zander had come for them. He loved them. And for that moment, Scotty could breathe.

As relievedas Vince was to put eyes on Zander again, as much as his heart leaped in his chest at Zander’s declaration of love, he couldn’t focus on the men who held on to him so tightly.

Not when their audience was made up of the most dangerous criminals in all of New York.

The moment the door opened, in that split second before Zander raced toward them on the couch, Vince had recognized the men at Zander’s back. Derri, yes. Also Israel Storm and the serious dude that never left his side, Reggie Turner. But those two weren’t the only threat.

Dima Zhirkov was mere inches away. Tall, tattooed, looking very much like someone you never wanted to cross. He was the head of the Russian mafia, controlling much of New York.

They had to be the reason for the ambush. For Scotty being scared out of his mind. For Vince wondering if they’d make it out alive. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening, but he needed answers. So as much as he wanted to bask in the warmth of Scotty’s and Zander’s embrace, as much as he wanted to bare his soul right then and there and verbally reciprocate Zander’s feelings of love, now wasn’t the time.

“What’s going on?” He whispered the question between the three of them, hoping Zander had the answers. “What’s happening here?”

A throat cleared in the room and Zander stiffened. Vince lifted his head when he heard footsteps.

“Don’t come any closer.” He jerked away from Zander and Scotty, meeting Israel’s amused gaze. “Don’t fucking do it.” He didn’t know why these men were present but it couldn’t be for anything good. He held Israel’s gaze when he asked, “Zander, what’s going on?”

“Go sit on the couch, baby,” Zander told Scotty softly. “It’s okay,” he promised when Scotty made a low sound. “You’re safe. I’m here and I’m not gonna let anything happen to either of you. Go.”

After a brief hesitation, Scotty did as he asked, scrambling back to the couch, hugging his knees to his chest as he sat there, silent but pale.

“Vince.” A hand settled on his shoulder. “I got this. Chill.”

And just how was he supposed to do that when the people responsible for practically all the crime in New York were within spitting distance, breathing the same air as him? The same air as the men he loved? How was he supposed to chill when he knew they were responsible for ambushing him and Scotty in their bed and kidnapping them? Scotty was fucked up and it was because of them.

Getting to his feet, Vince didn’t acknowledge Zander. Instead, he stood in front of Israel Storm. “Why are we here? What do you want?”

Israel’s lips twitched. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that. But my business is with Kian.”

“His name is Zander,” Vince spat, fists balled. “Use it.”

Israel’s head cocked.

Zander put an arm around Vince’s shoulders. “I’ve got this,” he murmured in Vince’s ear. “Let me handle it.”

“That’s what you’re calling yourself now?” Dima Zhirkov spoke for the first time, addressing Zander. “Zander?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” The Russian’s contemplative gaze traveled over to Scotty and then Vince before returning to Zander. “Then let’s get down to business, Zander.”

“Is that what this is about?” Vince asked with a scoff. “Business? You broke into our place, killed those men, and kidnapped us. You terrified our—terrified Scotty because of business?”

Zhirkov’s gaze shifted over to him. “Should there be another reason for terrifying your Scotty?”

Smug bastard. There was nothing Vince wanted more than to punch him in the face, but that would be an act of suicide, so he struggled to swallow the anger burning his chest. “I know who you are,” he shot back. “All of you.”

Zhirkov smiled and shrugged. “S’only right. We know who you are, Vince Hardin.”

“Enough,” Zander barked. “Don’t speak to him,” he told Zhirkov through gritted teeth. “You wanted my attention. You got it.”

“Maybe we changed our minds,” Israel Storm told him. “Maybe we should be having this discussion with the marshal here.” He nodded at Vince.

Vince scowled.

“We want the casino your man has out there in Jersey,” Zhirkov said. Seemed he and Israel were the only ones in the group doing the talking. Turner leaned against the nearby wall with his ankles crossed, looking bored, though something told Vince that was just an act. Derri looked like he was minutes away from losing his shit.

Vince couldn’t afford for that to happen. Zander and Derri were outgunned. Vince knew that, so Zander definitely had to know that. He had no clue what Zander had in the way of backup but that wouldn’t matter. They weren’t on their home turf.

“That’s why you took us, to force his hand?” Vince rolled his eyes. He knew about the casino. It was one of Murray DuBois’s biggest moneymakers and clearly Zander had inherited it. Why would he give that to Russians? Or to Israel Storm? “He’s not giving you the fucking casino. What else you got?”

Zhirkov chuckled, stepping in closer. Zander stiffened next to Vince while Vince tried not to feel as intimidated as he did when the Russian’s blue-green eyes bored into his.

“You know…” Zhirkov bit his bottom lip when he and Vince stood chest to chest. “You’re growing on me. I think I might like you.” He smelled sugar-sweet, like candy. Marshmallows, maybe. Whatever it was, it bordered—too fucking closely—on mouthwatering, bringing a distinct discomfort.

But to move away from him would broadcast a message Vince couldn’t afford. Not right then.

“Step back,” Zander warned the Russian, tone dark. “Right now.”

Zhirkov did with a chuckle, lifting both hands, palms out in mocking surrender as he licked his lips. He was a beautiful man, no denying that, but there was more than a hint of crazy swirling in his eyes. A whole lot of reckless danger that had Vince on guard and it had nothing to do with the tattoos wrapped around the other man’s throat.

“I told you before and I’m gonna tell you for the last time, I’m not handing over my casino or any of my other businesses to you people,” Zander said firmly as he slid a hand in Vince’s, thumb stroking, soothing. “I’m not about to reward you for scaring the fuck out of the?—”

“The men you love,” Israel finished for him with a gleam in his eyes. He shoved both hands into his pockets, a smug smile curving his full lips. He didn’t possess Zhirkov’s pretty boy features but he was still gorgeous with that dark skin and the air of danger that clung to him like the most carnal cologne. He was like Zander in that regard. “Tell us what else you won’t do for the men you love.”