Page 17
The house remained as heavily defendedas Vince imagined Fort Knox would be.
They’d spent almost a whole week locked in a house under heavy guard, watched day and night by men armed with assault rifles, their disgust at Vince and Scotty’s presence as much a part of their uniform as the black tactical gear they wore.
Not for the hundredth time, Vince questioned if he’d made the right decision, insisting on going wherever Derri took Zander.
Zander, who still wasn’t conscious.
Or, if he were, Vince didn’t know. Because Derri had forced Vince and Scotty into a bedroom that was outfitted with an en suite bathroom, a TV with no cable, and zero windows and locked them in. Derri had also made it so that nobody spoke to Vince and Scotty. They were fed, their meals brought in twice a day by muscle-bound men whose attitudes told Vince clearly that they’d rather put a bullet through his skull than food in his belly.
They didn’t answer any questions Vince tossed at them. And when he’d tried to leave the room the other day, one of them had clubbed him in the temple with the butt of his gun. He’d woken up with a splitting headache and Scotty’s tears dripping onto his cheek.
All the men around them knew Vince was law enforcement and that he’d been working on taking them—and their boss—down. They hated Vince for that. He could live with it, was used to it, but Scotty wasn’t. And there was nothing Vince could do to help Scotty. No matter how he begged Derri to let them out, Derri didn’t budge. He’d allowed his doctor to tend to Vince’s wound, at least, but not for one second did Vince think Derri did that out of the kindness of his heart.
It’d been so long since he’d seen Zander, pale and unconscious. No one would tell him how Zander was doing.
If he was even still alive.
God.
Vince paused his pacing, fists clenched, and glanced over to the bed where Scotty was curled in on himself, staring unblinking up at the ceiling. He barely ate, hardly slept, and only offered up single-word responses whenever Vince spoke to him.
Worry tore at Vince—worry for Zander, worry for Scotty. He didn’t know the first thing to do because it felt as if lately any move he made turned out to be the wrong one.
Scotty would be better if they weren’t locked up in this house. It was large, from what little Vince had seen when they’d first arrived. The trip from the parking garage to their destination had taken them about half an hour or so, the drive made at breakneck speed out of fear for Zander.
How was he?
Vince could yell and pound his fists on the locked door again, but all that would get him was a sore throat and aching hands when it was all said and done. Nobody would come, he knew that now. Nobody would answer.
Would Zander approve of how Derri treated them? Would he see Derri’s side of things? Or would he care that Scotty cried out for him in his sleep and didn’t settle until Vince wrapped both arms around him and stroked his back? Would Zander care that Vince didn’t have an appetite, but he forced himself to scarf down whatever food Derri’s men brought in just so he could have some strength if worse came to worst and Derri decided to kill him and Scotty?
Scotty made a sound, and Vince shook himself out of his reverie, striding over to the bed and climbing on. Scotty didn’t move.
“Hey.” Vince stroked his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
The younger man didn’t answer.
Vince swallowed. He was losing Scotty, he knew that. But he was powerless. There was no escape, not from this windowless room with men ready to kill them waiting on the other side. Hopelessness washed over him and he tugged Scotty close, hugging him to his chest, cupping the back of his head. Vince also wanted to curl up and mope, but he couldn’t. Someone had to take care of Scotty. Someone had to be on alert.
Scotty didn’t pull away from him, but he didn’t do anything else either. He just remained stiff in Vince’s arms.
Vince blinked fiercely, pressing his lips to Scotty’s temple. “When we get out of here, I’m gonna take you on a date,” he murmured, staring at the opposite wall. “I can’t remember the last time I went on one, but we’ll do it. Dress up all fancy and shit, get a car service so we can drink as much as we want. We’ll go to one of those fancy places where you can’t even pronounce half the shit on the menu.” Scotty didn’t utter a word. “You’ll love it, I promise.” He paused. “I need you to hold on for me. Just a little bit longer.” His voice broke. “Hold on for me, Scotty, please. For Zander.”
Hesitant arms, trembling slightly, wrapped around him and Vince closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, chin quivering. Fuck, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this—useless, lost. His medication was back at Zander’s shop, in his car, clearly lost now. He would have to get a new prescription, but who knew when he’d get the opportunity to call his doctor?
He should have had a plan. Should have figured out a way out of his predicament already, but it wasn’t just himself he had to worry about. It wasn’t just Scotty, either. He couldn’t leave without knowing what was going on with Zander, whether he was alive or dead. If only he could?—
The jangle of keys at the door caught his attention and he frowned. They’d had dinner not even two hours ago, so they shouldn’t be having visitors for the rest of the evening. He released Scotty and got off the bed just as Derri entered, flanked by three of his men, fully armed.
The fully armed part had never really made sense to Vince. Why would they need so many guns and men to watch over Vince and Scotty when they were clearly defenseless? Derri hadn’t offered up a response when Vince had asked that question. Now, he lifted an eyebrow at Derri, who stared at him, hatred on full display in his blue eyes.
Aside from making it his life’s work over the past few years to take down DuBois and his men and put them behind bars, Vince couldn’t figure out why Derri hated him so much.
“Come,” Derri barked.
Vince folded his arms. “I’m not leaving.”
“I could make you.”
“You could try,” Vince retorted, though that was all false bravado. If Derri really wanted him gone, Vince had no doubt he would be because there was nothing he could do about it.
“He’s awake and he wants to see you,” Derri said begrudgingly.
It took a while for the words to register and when they did, Vince’s body jolted. “He’s—Zander? Zander is awake?”
On the bed, Scotty gasped.
Derri turned away, giving Vince his back. “You and the pathetic one”—the way he referred to Scotty— “let’s go. Now!”
“He’s awake.” Vince spun around, taking Scotty’s hand with a grin. “Let’s go see Zander.”
Scotty blinked big, red-rimmed eyes up at him and then crawled off the bed. His body wavered when he stood in front of Vince, but Vince steadied him with a gentle touch on his shoulder before sliding his hand down to link their fingers, holding him tightly as they followed Derri and his men out of the room.
They set off at a trot, Vince and Scotty hurrying to catch up. Heart lodged in his throat, Vince clung to the hope that bloomed hot and bright in his chest. Zander was awake so that must mean he was healthy. And he wanted to see them.
What did it mean?
He bit his tongue to keep from flinging questions at Derri’s back.
Soon enough they arrived at a locked door, this one with a handful of armed guards standing outside. They were talking amongst themselves, but they straightened up when they spotted Derri, contempt in their eyes when their gazes landed on Vince.
He’d gotten used to it by now. He was the enemy after all. They just hated that they couldn’t kill him.
At a jerk of Derri’s chin, one of the guards opened the door and stepped aside. Derri entered the room. Vince followed, taking Scotty with him.
His gaze zeroed in on the figure in the bed immediately. Zander sat up against the pillows, his upper half bare, a large bandage wrapped around his left side. The doctor guy was bent over him as they conversed in a low tone.
Vince inhaled sharply.
Zander glanced toward the door.
His gaze clashed with Vince’s, and Vince didn’t miss the relief in Zander’s eyes. Or the way his posture appeared to loosen. The activity and sound around them disappeared and Vince had to curl his toes to keep from rushing over to Zander and demanding to know if he was really alright.
“Where’s Scotty?” Zander asked after a beat, forehead creasing in a frown.
Vince stepped aside so Zander could see Scotty, who was standing behind him. There went that relief in Zander’s eyes again.
“You’ve seen them,” Derri said. “Now, can we talk about?—”
“What happened to your face?” Zander ignored Derri, laser-focused on Vince.
Vince shrugged. “Met the butt of one of those guys’ guns.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and Zander’s gaze sharpened.
“Who?”
“What the fuck does it matter?” Derri’s voice rose. “We have bigger things?—”
“Derri.” Zander turned to his ex for the first time. “Get the fuck out.” His expression turned hard, cold, eyes unforgiving. “And I want whoever put that mark on Vince dead before I leave this bed.”
Derri gaped at Zander, but Zander didn’t flinch nor did he back down. Derri broke eye contact first, jaw clenched as he left the room, taking the others with him. Vince waited until the door closed behind them, then he grabbed Scotty’s hand and they raced to the bed.
Zander smothereda wince at the pain in his side as he took in the men who sat on the bed next to him. Scotty had a hand on Zander’s leg, his touch gentle, as if the younger man was afraid to put his hands on him at all. He didn’t like the way Scotty looked—pale, as if he were wasting away before Zander’s fucking eyes.
Then there was Vince, who didn’t quite hide the panic in his eyes to go along with the dark bruise on his cheek.
What in the hell had gone on while he’d been unconscious?
Derri had a lot to answer for, but first…
“Talk to me.” He turned to Vince. “What happened?”
Vince shrugged. “You came out of the tunnel and passed out. During a lucid moment, you gave us a number and said to call Derri, so I did.” He paused. “Did you know he would be coming with your uncle?”
Derri was his uncle’s right hand and the old man never made a move without Derri being at his side, so while Derri hadn’t explicitly told him he was accompanying his uncle, Zander had expected it. “I knew.” He nodded and reached for Scotty’s hand, linking their fingers. When Scotty’s gaze jumped to his, Zander smiled at him. He hoped he did it right; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled at anyone. But Scotty didn’t seem to mind it; his expression lightened just the tiniest bit.
Zander would take it. For now. But he and Vince would have to talk about what the fuck was going on with Scotty because Zander didn’t like it one bit. He listened as Vince told him about Derri and the others showing up in the parking garage and Vince insisting on him and Scotty staying with them.
Zander didn’t know what Vince said or did to convince Derri to keep them around, but it must have been a doozy. The fact that Derri hadn’t hurt them, especially Vince, was a miracle. Panic and fear, the likes of which Zander had only experienced when his entire family was killed, had swamped him when he’d opened his eyes to see Derri standing over him.
Derri had no love for the law.
But when he’d learned that both Vince and Scotty were alive and just a few doors away, he’d been unable to hide the huge sigh of relief that had escaped him. Derri had questions, but fuck him. Zander wasn’t about to give him any answers. Not yet, at least.
“He kept us locked in the room,” Vince continued. “He refused to tell us how you were or if you were even alive.” He swallowed, glancing at Scotty and then back to Zander. “It’s been rough.”
Zander could see that. On Scotty at least. Vince was much better at hiding what he felt. Still, holding on to Scotty, Zander reached for Vince with his free hand, cupping the back of his neck and bringing him in closer.
“I’m sorry about Derri and his bullshit,” he murmured so both men could hear. “If I’d known he’d do this?—”
“We would still do it,” Scotty said, speaking for the first time. “Because he took care of you when we couldn’t.” His eyes glistened, wet with relief and other shit that made Zander’s chest ache. “You’re here, so it doesn’t matter what Derri did or didn’t do.”
Vince nodded his agreement.
Maybe Scotty was right, but Zander didn’t care. He’d deal with Derri soon enough. Right now, he wanted to take a little time to be with the two men who wrecked his life in the best possible way. He’d come awake worried for them, not even giving a thought to the huge gash in his side where his uncle had tried to end him.
“Come here.” He released both of them and they crawled up the bed, each man settling on either side of his body.
“Careful,” Vince murmured. “We don’t want to hurt you or reopen your wound.”
Fuck that. “I’m fine,” Zander assured him. “Are you?” He held Vince’s gaze for a beat then turned to Scotty and asked him the same thing. “Are you?”
“Yes,” Scotty answered. It was like his fire had been doused. Inside, Zander raged even as he sank his fingers into Scotty’s hair and scraped his nails across his scalp. Scotty shivered and burrowed deeper into Zander’s side.
Zander pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then returned his attention to Vince, who watched them with the softest expression. When Zander lifted a brow in question, Vince smiled. “I’m fine now that I know you’re okay.”
At the moment that was all that mattered. There were a million things Zander had to deal with when he finally got out of bed and left the bedroom, but right now, it was almost as if they were back at his shop. Just the three of them. Nothing and no one else mattered.
He pinched Scotty’s chin, and when the younger man tilted his head back, eyes on Zander, waiting for his next move, Zander dipped his head, pressing his lips to Scotty’s. He tasted Scotty’s breathy inhale and felt the way his heart rate kicked up since they were pressed so tightly together. Zander coaxed Scotty’s lips open and when they parted, he swept his tongue inside.
Tasting all that he’d come to like so much, all that he’d come to want.
Scotty clung to him, releasing a whimper when Zander deepened the kiss. He took his time, using his tongue and lips to convey what he wanted. No words though, just breaths, the softest gasps, and the delicious wetness of Scotty’s mouth. Eyes closed, Zander gave all that he could, took all that he needed, then he pulled back, reluctantly breaking the kiss.
Scotty blinked up at him, lips wet, eyes hazy, splotches of color on his cheeks and throat. Zander grinned at him. Scotty grinned back and then Zander turned to Vince. The marshal watched them with flared nostrils, expression hungry. Zander cupped Vince’s cheek, wiping his thumb over his lips. When Vince’s mouth opened, Zander dipped the digit inside and Vince immediately latched on, sucking on him.
Zander hissed. “Fuck.” He wasn’t supposed to do shit but lie in the bed according to the doc, but after kissing Scotty and now this, Zander’s dick was more than ready for what came next.
Scotty touched a hand to Zander’s chest, sweeping down his abs as Vince inched closer, disappearing the distance between their bodies—as minute as it’d been—and taking Zander’s mouth.
Zander welcomed him in, grip tight on Scotty, trying not to move and exacerbate his wound, but fuck, he wanted to grind against the thigh Scotty had wedged between his legs. He wanted to strip both men and lose himself in the wonder of who they were and what they were becoming to him.
Vince kissed him ravenously, and it was Scotty who helped to keep Zander still when he would’ve been writhing like a man possessed, especially when Vince sucked on his tongue, his hands lifting to clutch Zander’s face.
Then Scotty was there somehow, his face in the mix, his lips joining them until Vince and Scotty were kissing, then Zander and Scotty, then all three of them. The kisses were sloppy and awkward but so hot that Zander was overheating and he couldn’t catch his breath. If they didn’t stop, he would?—
“So, this is what that is.”
Vince jerked away first. Then Scotty. Zander blew out a breath and opened his eyes to meet Derri’s hurt and disapproving stare.
“I was wondering why you even gave a fuck about a fed and a druggie, but now I see.” His ex crossed his arms over his chest, features dark and thunderous. “You’re fucking them.”
Zander licked his lips and released a resigned breath. Guess they would be having that talk sooner rather than later then. “Can you two give us a minute?” he murmured to Vince and Scotty. “Derri and I need to get some things clear between us.” Neither Vince nor Scotty moved. “I’ll be okay,” he reassured them, then lifted his voice. “And Derri will make sure nobody touches the two of you or even looks at you wrong, otherwise there will be hell to pay. Right, Derri?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Go on.”
Vince and Scotty got off the bed reluctantly, holding hands as they walked out the door.
When the door closed behind them, Zander met Derri’s gaze. “Did you do what I asked?”
Derri didn’t play stupid, which was something Zander had always admired about him. “I’m not gonna kill Carmine just because you?—”
Zander tuned him out, picking up the phone Derri had given him when he’d woken up and punching in a number. “Trem, bring me Carmine. Now.” He ended the call and sat back, watching Derri. “Something on your mind? Let it off.”
“You’re fucking the cop who’s been trying to lock us up for years? How long has this been going on?”
Zander didn’t care for the hurt he saw in Derri’s gaze. The other man should know better. “I don’t answer to you. Have you forgotten that? We also stopped being a we a long time ago, or have you also forgotten that?”
Derri’s expression hardened, his blue eyes cold enough to shoot icicles at Zander. “Fuck you! That cop can destroy everything we built. You brought him into the inner fucking sanctum. He now has all the proof he needs, and once he finds out?—”
The door opened and Trem entered, a man following close behind.
“You wanted to see me, boss?” the guy who had to be Carmine asked.
Zander didn’t recognize him; he’d probably come into the fold after Zander had left. Zander didn’t acknowledge him; instead, he held out a hand to Trem. “Your piece.”
Derri took a step forward. “Zander.”
Zander shot him a look that shut his ass up. Trem and Carmine were clearly confused, but Trem did as Zander asked; he pulled his Glock from his waist and strode over, placing it in Zander’s palm. Zander nodded his thanks, then finally turned to Carmine, who was watching with a frown. He was a tall guy and big, too, with short dark hair and a trim goatee.
“You hit Vince—the marshal—with your gun?”
“Zander, come on.” Derri hadn’t learned to shut the fuck up yet. Zander would have to teach him.
“Uh.” Carmine blinked at Zander. “Yeah, he was trying to—” He didn’t get to finish. Zander shot him between the eyes and his body jerked before crashing backward to the floor.
“Let it be known…touch Vince or Scotty and you die,” Zander said calmly. His fingers flexed on the gun’s trigger and he relaxed his grip, putting the weapon down beside him on the mattress. “Those two are not to be touched. In fact, you treat them the way you would treat me. And that’s a fucking order.” He held first Trem’s then Derri’s gaze. “Is that understood?”
“Yes, boss.” Trem nodded.
It took a while before Derri jerked his head in the semblance of a nod, jaw ticking, eyes narrowed to flints. Zander didn’t give a fuck what he thought. He’d issued an order and it would be followed or there would be grave consequences.
Because he was the one in charge. His uncle’s empire belonged to him now.