Chapter 32

Zander assignedpersonal bodyguards to both Scotty and Vince. Vince tried talking him out of it but that didn’t work. For now, at least. He had ways to make Zander ease up a little, though. But at the moment, he ignored the two hulking and silent figures trailing after him as he made his way through the grocery store.

In the time since they’d reunited and moved into the penthouse above the casino, Vince’s life had been so different than the one he was used to. He’d officially resigned from his job and put his former home on the market. Zander had sold the garage back in Alabama for a quarter of what it was worth to one of his former employees. He also bought a house. Dude just woke up one morning and instructed Vince and Scotty to get dressed, then drove them about half an hour away from the casino to what looked like a fucking fortress. Vince’s jaw had hit the ground when Zander had told them the compound could be their home. He’d had Vince and Scotty tour it and tell him their thoughts, and when they’d confessed to loving it, Zander had told them he’d already bought it.

And just like that, they’d moved in.

But there’d been caveats on the table. Before they truly started their lives together, they all had to agree to certain things. Everyone had to go to therapy. For Scotty, he had to do both therapy and narcotics anonymous meetings. He also wanted to go back to school, so he was in the exploration stage now, trying to figure out what exactly he wanted to study. Vince had acquiesced to Zander’s decree that he had six months to fuck around before he had to seriously consider what he wanted the next phase of his life to look like, career-wise. Clearly, Zander knew that eventually just sitting around day after day doing nothing would fuck with Vince, and he loved Zander for recognizing that.

For his part, Zander had agreed to find a second in command he could trust so that he could delegate responsibilities and wasn’t all bogged down with the business. He chose a guy named Edgar. It gave them time to be together, to strengthen their relationship, and removed some of the stress that Zander was under with the new partnership he’d entered into with the Russians and Jamaicans.

Today was their one-month anniversary in the new house, and while Scotty was in therapy and Zander was at the casino handling shit, Vince had the bright idea to cook for them. Yes, he wasn’t all that good at it, but he was trying and his men loved and encouraged him. He wanted to do something thoughtful to celebrate.

He inspected the cut of steak he’d gotten from the butcher and nodded his approval, watching as the man wrapped it up and slapped a sticker on it. Zander was of the mind that Vince should let one of the bodyguards handle things like grocery shopping and the other mundane but necessary shit that came with life. Vince wasn’t having it, though. Why would he have someone else buy his groceries when he could do it himself? Wasn’t as if he had anything else to do all day.

Life was different, that was for sure. He’d always been in survival mode, something he was learning from therapy. Always on the grind. It was good that he had a bit of ease, of comfort. It wasn’t always easy but he was learning to enjoy it, to be grateful and to accept it for what it was. He loved the life he and his men were building and that was all that mattered. He wasn’t even thinking about what he would do, career-wise, when his six-month reprieve was over.

For now, he would cook his men dinner and they would make love and he would bask in their love while ensuring they knew they had his. That they had him.

With the steak in his cart, he traveled slowly through the store, picking up everything he would need for the recipe he’d found online. It was easy and didn’t have a lot of steps, so he had confidence that he wouldn’t fuck it up. He’d have to make another stop to pick up the wine and then visit the bakery nearby for that coconut chiffon cake they’d all become addicted to. Especially Zander. Who knew that guy would have a massive sweet tooth? Cakes and cookies didn’t last long in their home, and the young woman who owned the bakery already knew all three of them by name in the short time they’d lived in the neighborhood.

Maybe he should also buy a slice of mango cheesecake, just to tide himself over until?—

“Fancy seeing you here.”

He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the aisle, head snapping up at the familiar voice. Syren stood just steps away, facing the shelves, intently studying the can of coconut milk in his hand.

What the fuck?He glanced over his shoulder to see if his guards were still around. They were hovering at the end of the aisle, talking to each other.

“Don’t worry.” Syren still wasn’t looking at him. “I didn’t come to make a scene.”

“Why did you come?” He didn’t like being in Syren’s presence. Maybe that was his lingering shame and embarrassment talking, but it was only part of it. Syren Rua should not be allowed out in public. Nothing good ever came out of it. “Did you—Are you following me?” Hadn’t they said all they needed to say to each other that day in Brooklyn?

Syren snorted, placing the can back on the shelf before facing Vince. He was dressed down… Well, as dressed down as someone like him would be wearing a white shirt under a navy sports coat and matching trousers with black shoes. As always, his clothes looked as if they’d been tailored just for his lean build. His gaze pierced Vince, a lock of white-blond hair falling over his forehead.

“I was in the neighborhood?—”

“The fuck you were.”

“—and I spotted you and thought I should say hello.” Acting as if Vince hadn’t spoken, Syren shrugged. “I mean, we’re no longer mortal enemies, right? I know I no longer feel the uncontrollable urge to drive a knife through your neck and stand by watching as you drown in your own blood.” He smiled smugly, gaze flicking past Vince just as one of the bodyguards spoke.

“Sir, is everything all right over here?”

That was Tiny. Vince didn’t break his stare with Syren to check the speaker’s identity. He’d already memorized their voices and that was Tiny, who of course looked nothing like his nickname. In fact, he was a former MMA fighter in the heavyweight division, according to Zander. Tattooed from fingertips to toes, with flowing blond hair and a full matching beard, a barrel for a belly, and standing close to seven feet tall. And somehow, Vince didn’t think Tiny could take Syren.

“Everything’s good, Tiny,” he said, reassuring him. “Just chatting with a friend.” He waited until Tiny’s footsteps retreated before he addressed Syren. “You’ve thought about it, huh? Killing me?”

Syren hummed his confirmation. “They’ve brought me such pleasure, those thoughts.” He drew closer and Vince held his position, ensuring his expression remained blank, refusing to show the other man any kind of weakness. “But all that’s behind us now, isn’t it?” There went that slick smile again. “How is Scotty, by the way? He hasn’t called.”

“Don’t say his fucking name,” Vince blurted out.

The smile got bigger, wider, Syren’s eyes lighting up as he studied Vince. Vince didn’t know what the bastard was looking for but he had no doubt Syren found it when he said, “Doesn’t feel good, does it? Another man interested in what’s yours. In what you’ve stamped your mark all over. Lights a fire in your chest, doesn’t it? Turns the best men into monsters. And the monsters?” He brushed quick fingers over Vince’s sleeve with a sniff. “Well…you just hope there’s someone around capable of reining them in.” He winked, taking a step back, dropping his gaze to the cart at Vince’s side. “Enjoy your dinner. It’s on me.” Striding away, he said over his shoulder, “Tell Scotty I’m still waiting on that call.”

That fucking?—

It took Vince longer than he would have liked to gather himself enough to finish his shopping. He didn’t like how easily Syren could get to him and he really didn’t like his fixation on Scotty. Syren was right; Vince’s chest burned at the thought of the criminal mastermind being so interested in Scotty. It didn’t bode well.

As he got to the register and began unloading his cart, he resigned himself to the fact that he would have to talk to Zander about how to handle this in order to best protect Scotty. He already knew Scotty wouldn’t want to hear it.

He sighed as he pulled out his wallet to get to his credit card.

The teenager behind the register shook his head, his prominent Adam’s apple bulging when he said, “Your stuff’s already been paid for, sir.”

“What? How is that—” Fucking Syren.

He didn’t expectZander to already be there when he returned to the house. Shaken out of deep thought as they drove through the front gates, he swallowed a curse when the driver pulled into the garage next to Zander’s black and chrome Range Rover.

Vince waited, taking several breaths before he got out when Tiny pulled his door open. The big guy eyed the bags Vince grabbed but didn’t say anything. He knew better. He’d suggested only once—as they’d exited the supermarket—that he carried the bags for Vince, who’d in turn given him the most lethal stare down he could muster before Tiny backed down, throwing his hands in the air in surrender. Vince couldn’t get out of the bodyguards following him around, but he drew the fucking line at them treating him like a goddamn damsel in distress.

Bags in hand, he made his way into the house through the garage that was large enough to hold at least six cars, though for now it only held three. He didn’t see Zander, so he went about putting the groceries away as he brainstormed how he would bring up the whole Syren situation. How would they be able to get Syren to back down? He hated Vince and now appeared to have some kind of weird fascination with Scotty.

They had to protect Scotty because it wasn’t a good thing to be the subject of Syren’s attention. Vince knew that much. Of course all of this was his fault. He wouldn’t be here worrying about Syren Rua’s next move if he hadn’t fucked up way back when.

“…the monsters? …you just hope there’s someone around capable of reining them in.”

Would it be out of line to reach out to Kane? Clearly, he was the only person capable of making his man see reason. But Vince didn’t want anything to do with either man; he just wanted this slice of life he’d somehow managed to scrape together for himself, with his men. In their house. But he would do anything, endure any hardship or embarrassment, in order to keep Scotty and Zander safe.

Still, he had to be careful. Syren wasn’t an enemy to be taken lightly or to underestimate.

Arms slid around his waist, startling him, almost making him drop the jar of pickles in his hand. He put it down on the counter, melting into Zander’s embrace, shivering when lips touched his nape.

“Hey.”

He couldn’t help the smile, eyes closing in bliss and relief and all the million other things—such good things—he felt on a daily basis nowadays. “Hey.”

Nothing else was said. They just stood there in silence.

Life was a funny thing, wasn’t it? With the help of his men and his therapist, he was learning to just let it be. Learning to accept that this was his, all of it, both of them, his.

He couldn’t allow Syren Rua to taint it.

“You’re making dinner?” Zander asked after a while. His voice rumbled in the quiet of their kitchen, twisting up Vince’s insides.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “Found a recipe that was easy enough to do without messing up.”

Zander kissed his nape again, soft lips just skating over his skin, barely-there touches that had Vince sighing and dropping his head forward. Giving the other man permission and more room to work.

“Heard you met up with a friend at the supermarket.”

Vince stiffened at the words Zander whispered in his ear. Shit, he’d wanted to be the one who shared the news, but judging by Zander’s nonchalant tone, he already knew the identity of said “friend.” He tapped on Zander’s hands that were locked around his middle and when they loosened, he turned in Zander’s embrace, meeting the other man’s eyes.

Zander’s head was cocked, watching him carefully, expectantly.

“Which one of them told you?” He didn’t know if he liked the idea of his bodyguards giving Zander a play-by-play of his every move.

“Neither,” Zander told him. “Got a call from the man himself.”

That had him blinking. “Syren called you?” What the hell was he up to? “Is that why you’re home earlier than expected?” When Zander just kept watching him, Vince sighed. “Okay, fine. What did he say?”

Zander shrugged. “He said a lot of shit, but what I heard was that he’s way too interested in Scotty.”

“Right? That shit is not good.” He grabbed Zander’s arm. “What do we do?” Because it scared him, the very idea of Syren having anything to do with Scotty. “How do we protect him without him feeling smothered and resenting us?”

Zander cupped his chin, forcing Vince to hold still, to stare into his eyes. “I already called his guards; they’re bringing him home now.” He brushed his lips against Vince’s. “We’ll figure it out, but I need you to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Blaming yourself.” Zander studied him. “Feeling guilty. Living in the past.”

Living in the past.“I—I’m…” He didn’t know where to go or what to say to that.

“We’re not letting anyone fuck with what we have going on here,” Zander told him, both voice and expression fierce, sure. “We’ll handle Syren Rua. We’re not letting him throw us off our game or knock us off our square. You’re not the man you were back then, so don’t bring his thoughts, his fears, his worries into our present.”

Vince forgot to blink, too busy staring into Zander’s eyes, drowning in them. He tried to think about where he’d been, all he’d done, both right and wrong… All of it that brought him to where he now stood in the arms of a man who loved him so much it poured out of Zander in a steady, never-ending river.

In his former life, there’d been rare moments of Vince daydreaming of what he wished he had, of what he wished he could be. He hadn’t bothered to dream about having love. Never thought he could have it, could deserve it, could be worthy of it. But if he’d allowed himself to dream about that love, it still wouldn’t come close to what he had because he hadn’t known what kind of love he wanted.

But it was this kind.

This one that felt as if it’d been tailor-made just for him.

Steady and steadfast. Everything. From a source he for fucking sure wouldn’t have accepted back in his past life. But in this life, in this surreal moment, this was all he’d ever needed.

And so he said, “Thank you.”

Zander’s lips quirked. “For what?”

Vince slung both hands around the other man’s neck, linking his fingers, bringing their faces close so he could kiss Zander’s nose. Pressing their bodies together just so Zander could maybe feel the way his heart thudded.

For him.

For the life he’d given Vince.

“For loving me.” Love was work, he’d learned since finding his men. Everyday type of work. It was effort and conscious thought, awareness, and choice. Not an easy thing. It was a commitment to wake up every day and be there for the people you swore your heart to, holding space for their hopes and fears and dreams, their well-being and vulnerabilities. Doing all that while protecting them.

Also not an easy thing.

You had to want to do it. Every day. Over and over and over.

“You love me too,” Zander pointed out. His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper and he dipped his head, rubbing his nose against Vince’s.

“I do,” Vince told him hoarsely. “Every day. Every single day, I love you more. I love him more.”

“Good.” Zander smiled. Oh, when he trained that smile on Vince, he felt in-fucking-vincible. And caught, like prey in a trap that he didn’t want to escape.

The sound of the front door opening and then closing widened Zander’s smile. “Kiss me.”

Vince fell on him, into his mouth, with a groan of desperation, opening for him and clutching Zander close at the first touch of their tongues. How he could taste so good, still, always, was a mystery Vince didn’t think he’d ever solve.

Too soon, Zander pulled away. “We’ll eat dinner.” He swiped his thumb over Vince’s bottom lip as footsteps drew closer. “We will fuck each other and then later we’ll think about things. Much later.”

“I’m here,” Scotty said loudly at Zander’s back. “What was so urgent I had to come home?”

Vince pulled away from Zander and went to the younger man, cupping his jaw and kissing him, hard and deep, but way too brief. “Help me with dinner.” He glanced back at Zander. “Then we’ll talk.”