Chapter 9

Vince hadn’t meantto share. But the words just started flowing the longer he held Scotty. It was as if the younger man’s story had slashed a hole through Vince, allowing his own fucked-up tale to come pouring out. They all three had those kinds of stories, didn’t they?

Zander stood off to the side, expression shuttered. He didn’t speak, didn’t share, but Vince had no doubt Zander had a fucked-up story in him. From his stance, he knew the hitman wouldn’t be sharing, but for a moment when their gazes held earlier, there’d been the briefest solidarity that flowed from Zander to Vince. Or maybe that had all been in his head.

He didn’t like thinking about his past. Not now. There’d been moments when that was all he’d thought about, when his inaction as that fourteen-year-old boy had guided his acts as an adult with grave results. He would forever regret the things he didn’t do, and though his therapist had tried to get him to see it was all out of self-preservation and therefore understandable, sometimes Vince was convinced it was cowardice.

Scotty made a sound and Vince held him tighter. The younger man didn’t deserve the kind of life he’d been dealt. Vince wished there was something he could do to save Scotty. But with a bandaged shoulder and the clock on his own life ticking down thanks to stoic Zander over there, his options were zilch.

He brushed his lips to Scotty’s temple, then stiffened when he caught himself. What the hell was he doing? He jerked his head up to find Zander watching him—them. What was he thinking? Vince couldn’t read him. Was he thinking Vince had lost his mind? What did he think about Vince’s story? Did Zander regard him as a coward too? Not that it mattered. The guy killed people for a living. He had no business judging anyone. He lifted his chin at Zander, daring him to say something slick.

A muscle twitched at his temple, but Zander kept his mouth shut at least.

“Hey.” Vince leaned away, gripping the back of Scotty’s neck and tugging his head back. Scotty met his gaze with wet lashes and eyes, the tip of his nose red. The sight fucked with Vince. He didn’t like it, didn’t know what he could do about it. “You hungry, thirsty?”

Scotty licked his lips and then mumbled, “Hungry.”

“Get something from the vending machine,” Vince told him softly, smoothing Scotty’s hair. “Go on.” He couldn’t help pressing his lips to Scotty’s forehead. Shit. He should stop that, didn’t want to confuse Scotty. But all the younger man did was blink those big eyes at him. “Go.”

Scotty did, easing past Zander in the doorway.

“You need to protect him,” Vince told Zander when Scotty was out of earshot. “That uncle of his can’t keep doing what he’s been doing to Scotty.”

Zander scowled. “What the fuck do I care about the addict and his uncle?”

If Vince could, he would plant his fist in Zander’s face. But he couldn’t, so instead, he sighed. “You heard his story?—”

“Yeah, a story.”

“I know you want me dead.” And he probably should be more upset than he actually was. Maybe getting shot had numbed him more than he’d realized. “But just… Scotty deserves a chance. Please.” Things he never thought he’d do: beg a hitman to spare someone’s life. Someone who’d shot him, at that. “Protect him.”

Zander stalked closer, expression harsh, eyes blazing. “You’re mistaking me for somebody who cares.” He sank onto his haunches in front of Vince, lips twisting. “You couldn’t save the other one, so you’ve decided you’ll take a do-over with the junkie?”

The words were a slap to the face, leaving Vince gaping. “Stop calling him that, and this has nothing to do with Dav?—”

“It has everything to do with him,” Zander snarled in his face. Then he grinned. “You mentioned consequences before. Your inaction had consequences. What kind of consequences were they?”

Vince gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

Zander leaned in closer. “Oh, I’m dead serious.” His breath warmed Vince’s chin, smelling like some kind of chocolate from the vending machine. “You tell me and maybe I’ll think about saving your Scotty after you’re dead and buried.”

The reminder of his impending demise squeezed at Vince’s throat. “Get out of my face.” He couldn’t even summon force behind the words and Zander knew it because his eyes mocked Vince. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

“Make me, Fed.”

Vince’s good arm moved before he could formulate the thought, grabbing Zander by the throat, fingers digging into his flesh. Zander stilled. Vince did too. Fuck, he stopped breathing. All he had was his one fucking arm. Zander had Vince’s gun and who knew what else. He could end Vince and bury him before Murray DuBois showed up. And where would that leave Scotty? How could Vince have been so stupid? Acting without thinking?

Zander’s lashes lifted, all kinds of weird shit swirling behind his eyes as he grinned. The gesture was crooked, brutal. If that was the last thing Zander’s victims saw when he came for them then Vince understood why the hitman was so feared. Vince’s fingers spasmed, digging deeper into Zander’s flesh because apparently his limbs had stopped working and his arm wouldn’t let Zander go. Fuck!

“Look at you,” Zander murmured, calm as ever. “You got that violence inside, don’t you, Fed? You wanna choke me out with your precious Scotty just outside the door?” He lifted a brow, eyes laughing at Vince. “What would your new pet think about you then? Think he’ll let you hug him and kiss him after that?

Vince squinted. “Are you jealous of Scotty?” He cocked his head, furrowing his brow as he stared into Zander’s eyes as they morphed from laughter to fury in an instant.

Zander scoffed. “What the fuck is there to be jealous of?”

Vince studied him, fingers flexing against his skin. Zander didn’t once try to get away from Vince’s grip on his neck. He just stayed there, curved dark lashes hiding his thoughts each time he blinked. “I think you’re jealous of Scotty, yep.” He hit the “P” hard on yep. “I think you wish you were the one getting my hugs and kisses.”

The pulse under his fingertips went crazy and Vince held back a smile, easing his grip. He didn’t move his hand, simply relaxed the pressure. Zander didn’t move away. There was a wildness in the other man’s eyes that kicked up Vince’s breath until he was panting, then Zander was panting, pulse fluttering under Vince’s touch, and Vince couldn’t look away because something… Something wouldn’t let him. He didn’t like it, didn’t want it, but whatever that unnamed thing was it kept his gaze locked with Zander’s. Kept his hand at Zander’s throat.

From Zander’s expression, it seemed as if he also wanted to move but couldn’t.

“David had two older brothers.” Vince found himself talking, heard himself uttering the words. Shut up. Shut up. But they just kept coming, rolling off his tongue and dropping between them, filling the tiny space and turning it claustrophobic. “They were also in the system and they found me when I was nineteen. I don’t know how. They broke into my studio apartment.” His very first rental. He’d been so proud of that place even though it was barely bigger than a shoebox. “They kept me chained and locked up in there for a week.” With no friends or family, living in a place where everybody minded their own business, nobody came knocking. When they were done with him, he couldn’t walk. Couldn’t speak. “All the damage that had been inflicted on David, they did to me.” And then some. “Then they set the place on fire with me inside.”

Darkness turned Zander’s features into a macabre thing of beauty. And if Vince wasn’t so far gone, he’d probably question who that bloodlust was directed at. A sound snapped his connection with Zander, and Vince turned his head to find Scotty standing in the open doorway, tears filling his eyes.

Zander tried to move away then, but Vince tightened his grip on him, holding him in place. Zander froze. Guess he didn’t want his freedom badly enough. Or maybe he wanted to listen to Vince’s pain more. “I don’t remember being rescued, but I woke up in the hospital a week later. No burns, but severe smoke inhalation. They’d knocked a few of my teeth out, broken my left arm, my legs, fucked up my ribs, and I had a concussion.” He paused. Took a deep breath. “They left scars on my body as well. Probably to ensure I never forgot.” Those scars were faded now, but back then it’d taken a long time before he could look at himself in a mirror.

Scotty was sobbing. Vince had stopped feeling anything when he thought about that time in his life. But when Scotty came over and knelt in front of him, side by side with Zander, offering a hug, Vince finally dropped his hand from Zander’s throat and took it.

He met Zander’s eyes over Scotty’s shoulder. “Those were the consequences of my inaction. You wanted to know…and now you do.”

The harrowing detailsof Vince’s story pulled all the emotion from Scotty. The last thing he wanted to do was appear weak in front of the other men, but he couldn’t help it. He knew Vince had left out the more gory details of what he’d experienced, but just the little bit he’d shared had Scotty weeping for him.

Maybe this was why he felt so safe with Vince. More drawn to him.

Zander kept Scotty on his toes as he waited to see what the mechanic would do or say. But Vince provided a safety Scotty didn’t think he’d ever had; at least, not after his mother’s death at his uncle’s hands. He was all fucked up, too, as they all three knew, but it wasn’t lost on him that he could be using Vince as some kind of crutch.

At that moment, though, he didn’t care.

It felt good to hug Vince, to feel the other man’s right arm wrap around him. Scotty couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a hug from anyone or the last time he’d been touched with anything other than resentment or disgust. Weird place and circumstance to find it, but he didn’t care.

Vince did that thing he’d done before, brushing his lips over Scotty’s temple, and Scotty held back a sigh. The weight of a stare burned his nape and he didn’t have to look to know Zander was watching them—him—with those dark eyes, always judging, always angry. Scotty wished he knew what Zander’s deal was, but the mechanic wasn’t going to volunteer any details. He knew that much.

He tightened his hold on Vince and murmured, “I’m sorry for what you went through.” Somebody had to say it. He’d wished so many times somebody would say it to him. And mean it. Nobody ever did.

“I’m sorry too,” Vince said softly. “You didn’t deserve the things you’ve been through.”

Scotty swallowed a sob. Neither of them deserved it and it wasn’t fair, but that was the way the world worked, wasn’t it?

Vince released him and Scotty shifted away only for Vince to cup his face with his one good hand, peering into his eyes.

“Are you okay?” His gaze roamed Scotty’s face. “You got something to eat?”

Scotty nodded. “Yeah, and also…” He picked up the small bag of chips from where he’d dropped it on the floor next to them. “I brought this for you.”

Vince smiled and Scotty stared at him, blinking. He was such a contrast to Zander, even after what he’d shared. Not as dark or jaded or sullen. He eased away from Vince, sitting on the floor at his feet. Zander had moved, too, still on the floor but positioned farther away as he sat watching them with hooded eyes. Scotty tore open the bag of chips and held it out to Vince, who took it with a grateful smile.

Scotty couldn’t help but respond, giving Vince a hesitant smile of his own. There hadn’t been anything to smile about in his life. And their current predicament didn’t lend itself to much smiling either, but it didn’t matter. Because when Vince smiled Scotty wanted to make the gesture permanent.

“I don’t get any?”

Zander’s rumbled words froze Scotty for a beat, and when he finally dropped his hands back into his lap, they trembled slightly. Something about Zander set him on edge. Maybe because he knew the shop owner wouldn’t think twice about killing him. Maybe Zander was planning the different ways to kill and dispose of his body even now as he stared at Scotty with a raised eyebrow, lips curled in a smirk. Scotty’s heart thudded in his chest and he gritted his teeth, shifting closer to Vince.

Although…there wasn’t much Vince could do to protect him if Zander decided Scotty’s time was up.

He took a deep breath and raised his chin the tiniest fraction. “T-tell us your story and I’ll get y-your chips.” His entire body flushed hot in embarrassment at the stutter that gave away just how scared he was of Zander. Clearly, he wanted to die because why would those words come out of his mouth?

A hand touched his shoulder, Vince offering comfort as Zander stared Scotty down. It was there in his eyes, the million ways he could kill Scotty. Reaching out blindly, Scotty touched Vince’s knee, muscles bunched and ready to bolt. But it wasn’t as if he could get far if?—

“Are you blackmailing me?” Zander got to his feet slowly.

“Zander.” Vince issued the warning in a low tone, one Scotty barely heard. He was too busy holding his breath, gaze darting from Zander to the door and back.

Zander strode to them, standing over Scotty, who licked his dry lips and met his gaze, neck hurting from staring up at the tall man.

“Zander.” Vince’s voice was louder, the warning more pronounced.

“Let him speak for himself, Marshal.” Zander didn’t break eye contact with Scotty, but his voice held a bit of mocking when he said, “Looks as if he’s getting a bit of a backbone.” He lowered himself to a crouch in front of Scotty, knees apart, elbows on his thighs. “Are you, junkie?”

“I told you not to call him that!”

Both Scotty and Zander ignored Vince.

“I just thought…” Scotty swallowed. “You listened to me and Vince share our stories, so it’s only fair that you do the same.”

Zander barked a dry laugh. “Fair? Well, since you put it like that, let’s talk about fair. Is it fair that you broke into my place? That you shot that one over there?” He flicked his gaze to Vince, then brought it back to Scotty. “Is it fair that your new best friend has led my former boss—who thinks I’m dead, by the way—directly to my door?”

Scotty gaped at him, and when Zander grasped his chin, it took a while for the touch to register.

“Life isn’t fair, and you learned that at an early age, didn’t you, Scotty?” He spat out Scotty’s name as if it tasted foul, fingers biting into his skin.

Something—What was— Scotty’s head spun, too many things coming at him too fast. Zander’s grip was tight, his fingertips rough, his skin warm. Scotty wasn’t sure if he was supposed to notice that, or the way Zander’s lips curved when he spoke, or the way he smelled like warm skin mixed with the fading scent of a cologne that made Scotty want to take a deeper inhale.

“I grew up with two parents who loved me and adored each other.” Zander’s dark eyes bored into him, eyebrows thick slashes of darkness against his brown skin. His grim countenance had Scotty transfixed, tongue incapable of helping him form words. Next to him, Vince’s stillness broadcast a warning, but Scotty was too lost in the depths of Zander’s eyes to take heed. “I had an older brother who taught me shit and a younger sister we spoiled.” With every word, his expression got darker and his fingers on Scotty’s chin turned more painful. “In one night my family was wiped out by home invaders.”

Vince hissed.

Scotty’s chest cracked open.

“I was eight and I survived only because I’d wet the bed after having a bad dream and went to change in the bathroom. I did it in the dark because I shared a room with my older brother and I didn’t want to turn on the lights and wake him. He’d see me and make fun of me. I was too ashamed for him to know. So I was in our bathroom, in the dark, changing my pajamas.”

“Christ.”

That was Vince; Scotty was too shell-shocked to do anything except stare up at Zander.

“I didn’t hear a thing. It took longer than I expected because I tried rinsing out the clothes.” Zander made a sound that was probably meant to be a laugh. “All of that just so my brother wouldn’t make fun of me. When I finally came out, it was the silence and the heavy scent of blood that alerted me that something was off. I don’t know how they missed me. I don’t know why I got spared, if it’d been intentional or not.” He stopped then, a muscle in his jaw ticking, and Scotty touched him.

A shaking hand on his shoulder.

Zander stared at that touch as if he didn’t know what it was, didn’t understand it.

“I went to live with my uncle. Much later I was told it’d been an execution. A hit meant to send a message to my uncle.” Zander’s nostrils flared and he looked at Vince then. “You want to guess who my uncle is?”

“DuBois is your uncle?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.”

Scotty glanced between the two of them. What was he missing? Zander returned his gaze to Scotty and must have caught his confusion because Zander smiled, beautiful and deadly. “Your marshal has a bounty on his head, did he tell you that? There are people on their way to kill him as we speak, and they’re led by my uncle, Murray DuBois.” His teeth appeared. “You can get me those chips now.”

What the fuck? Scotty didn’t know what he was supposed to say to any of what he’d just heard, so he threw his arms around Zander, who went stock-still.

“I’m sorry about your family,” Scotty whispered against his neck. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that kind of loss. I’m sorry.” He kept on hugging Zander, waiting for the moment when the other man would inevitably push Scotty away. But Zander never did.

His arms wrapped around Scotty instead.