Page 24

“What the fuck, Vince?”

Vince pulled the phone away from his ear with a wince at Russ’s near-screech. He’d finally called to check in with his boss now that he and Scotty were settled in. He turned around where he stood on the deck, peering through the window and spying Scotty stretched out on the couch inside the Airbnb they’d rented.

He’d opted for the rental as a way to decompress, to gather themselves, instead of going right back home to Jersey.

Where Zander would be by now, taking the reins over from his uncle.

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to dislodge the thought. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Zander; he’d left them and now Vince and Scotty had to find a way to move on without him.

Easier said than done.

“Where are you?” Russ asked. “Are you okay?”

He’d given his boss a quick rundown of what happened…well, the sanitized version. He damn sure wasn’t telling Russ that he’d fucked and fallen in love with two men, one of them being Murray DuBois’s nephew—one of the most dangerous men they’d ever known. Russ didn’t need to know about that. Besides, Zander was gone, wasn’t he?

Out of the picture.

He rubbed his chest, keeping his eye on Scotty. Vince worried for him, the way Scotty had withdrawn into himself with every passing day. It’d been three weeks already since they’d parted ways with Zander, and Vince felt his absence like a gaping wound that refused to heal, so he knew Scotty felt the same way. But they didn’t talk about him, the man they missed so much. They didn’t bring him up.

What use would that do?

“I’m fine,” he told Russ after clearing his throat. “I’m, uh, just outside Philly and I should be returning sometime next week. I’ll let you know when.”

“Okay.” Russ sighed loudly in his ear. “I know DuBois is gone now but word is one of his men has taken over and…” He paused. “I didn’t know it was possible but he might be way more brutal than DuBois ever was.”

Vince’s heart lurched.

“Keep your head down,” Russ warned him. “I’ll do some discreet checking around to make sure it’s safe for you to return.”

“Yeah, sure.” Vince already knew it was safe, Zander would make sure of it, but he couldn’t tell Russ that, could he?

“This a good number for you?”

“It is, yep.” He watched as Scotty sat up and glanced around before meeting Vince’s gaze through the window. “I’ll check in with you in a few days if I don’t hear from you first.” He ended the call before Russ said anything else and shoved the phone into his pocket before opening the door and reentering the house.

It was a small one bedroom in South Philadelphia that he’d booked after having Zander’s men take him and Scotty to the train station. He didn’t doubt that those men knew exactly where they were and were hiding out there somewhere in the bushes watching, but at least they didn’t approach or make contact.

Vince didn’t want to see them. He wanted Zander, but of course that wasn’t going to happen.

He went to Scotty, cupping his face, staring into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Scotty nodded, but it was a lackluster gesture. He didn’t call Scotty on it, though. He just pulled the younger man into his arms and hugged him tight. They had to make a life for themselves now, one without Zander. But Vince didn’t have a fucking clue how to even begin to do that. Where did they start?

In the days since they’d been at this place, they’d remained holed up inside, ordering in groceries or takeout. He’d made good on the promise he’d made Scotty, taking him out on a date. It was good to bond with him, to build their relationship and get to know each other on an even deeper level. It made Vince happy to see Scotty’s eyes light up, to see him smile. But it didn’t last. They would venture out on the back deck every now and again, but there was this air of mourning that surrounded them. Vince wanted to get rid of it before he took them back to Jersey. He wanted to be back on his game. He met with his therapist remotely and was in the process of finding someone for Scotty since it was beyond clear that the younger man needed professional help.

He eased back from Scotty and took his hand. “Come sit outside with me.” He led them outside, taking a seat in one of the chairs out there, waiting until Scotty sank onto his lap. “You hungry?” Vince asked him, both arms around him, face in the crook of his neck. “Want me to cook something?”

That got him a quick side eye and a lip twitch like he knew it would. The first and last time Vince had tried to cook for them, he’d fucked up the spaghetti sauce so badly it’d been unrecognizable. So he stuck to making them breakfast now; there weren’t too many ways he could fuck up bacon and eggs.

“Pizza?” Scotty asked. “Can we order pizza?”

“Yeah, sure.” He allowed the silence to descend over them, thumb stroking over Scotty’s knuckles. “We have to move on,” he finally said quietly.

Scotty’s breath hitched and he nodded. “I know.”

It was easier said than done, though. Scotty didn’t voice that part but Vince heard it. At night when he lay next to Scotty in their bed, he questioned how he’d come to feel so much in such a short time for two entirely different men. How he’d ended up where he was. And he asked himself, too, if there was anything he’d do differently to change what happened, to achieve a different outcome.

The answer was no.

The only thing missing was Zander.

“Do you regret it?” he asked Scotty. “Coming with me, choosing me?”

Scotty twisted in his lap until they were face-to-face. There was a fierceness in his eyes now. “I don’t regret a thing,” he said firmly. “I want to be with you.” He glanced away. “I just wish…”

“Me too.” Vince pressed a kiss to his jaw, his neck. “Me too.” He wished Zander was with them. They had a life to plan, to live, and they would. He would make sure that they did because Scotty deserved it. Hell, Vince deserved it.

And Zander had wanted it for them.

Zander stared at Derri. “What?”

“He wants a meeting.”

“He just walked in and demanded a meeting? Why the fuck wasn’t I informed when he entered our territory?”

Derri shrugged, but Zander didn’t miss the tension in his shoulders. “I don’t know why we weren’t alerted. I can check in with the guys but in the meantime…”

Meetings. When Zander wasn’t weeding out the disloyal rats in his organization, he was holding meetings with friends and foes alike. Forging new alliances and terminating old ones. He hadn’t expected the heavy hitters over there in Queens to come to his door. They weren’t friends nor were they enemies. They mostly tended to stay out of each other’s way.

Unless… He narrowed his gaze at Derri. “Were they working with my uncle?”

“No.” Derri dropped into the chair on the other side of Zander’s desk. “He wanted to, though. Kept begging for a meeting and they kept telling him to fuck off. They wanted nothing to do with him.”

So why were they now demanding a meeting with Zander? He blew out a breath. “Fuck. Okay. Where is he?”

“Downstairs.” Derri got to his feet when Zander did.

“Let’s get this over with.” He buttoned his jacket as he made his way to the door. “Bring me up to speed.”

His private offices were on the uppermost level of the casino and only Derri and a few trusted men were allowed up there. He held meetings on a separate level, and he and Derri took the private elevator there now, Zander struggling to listen as Derri droned on with facts and figures about the Queens organization.

It was all a distraction for Zander, something he welcomed. He didn’t sleep at night because when he closed his eyes all he saw were them. His men. Their loss lingered, heavy and painful in his chest, but he bore the pain and would continue to bear it, if it meant Vince and Scotty were safe.

Didn’t mean he didn’t wish they were there with him. Didn’t mean he didn’t miss them in ways he hadn’t known were possible to miss another human.

He shook his head in hopes of dislodging those thoughts as they exited the elevator and walked into the office where his uninvited guests were waiting. It was just two of them who’d arrived, Derri had told him, no bodyguards, no backup as far as they knew.

Did that mean they didn’t consider Zander a threat?

“Israel Storm.” He greeted the first man, the one who controlled all major criminal enterprises in Queens. He sat causally, an ankle crossed over his knee as he murmured to the man next to him. The second man was silent, gaze alert. His right-hand man, according to Derri. “Reggie Turner.” Storm’s skin was darker than Turner’s yellowish-brown, and the leader of the Jamaicans was bigger, broader than his right-hand man’s slighter build.

They were dressed similarly in jeans and hoodies, with Turner wearing a Yankee fitted perched on his head.

“Kian DuBois.” Storm grinned when Zander stood in front of him, exposing the toothpick he’d been chewing on. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Now wasn’t the time to correct the other man on the use of that name, not when Zander didn’t know what he wanted. “And I hear you just walked into my territory as if you owned it. With no backup too.” He cocked his head. “You must have a death wish.”

Storm chuckled. “I never leave my home without backup.” He dipped his head in the direction of the man sitting next to him and Turner’s lips twitched at a joke that was clearly between the two of them.

Zander refrained from rolling his eyes. “Why are you here?”

“I have something you need.” Storm unfolded himself from his seat and stood. Derri’s hand went to his waistband. Turner got to his feet as well. A menacing tension filled the room, making it damn near oppressive. “You have something I want,” Storm said, unconcerned.

Zander barked a laugh. “I think you’ve got me confused with somebody else. You have nothing of value to me.”

“Your uncle wanted to partner with me, did you know that?” Storm scoffed as if the mere thought of working with Murray was offensive. “He wanted my Russian connect and offered me all kinds of bullshit in return. But he didn’t offer what I actually wanted.”

Zander stiffened. Russian connect. If he had an alliance with Brooklyn it would be a game changer. Like Derri just shared with him, the Jamaicans in Queens and the Russians in Brooklyn had the ultimate alliance, making them untouchable. Zander didn’t know how or why that came about when at one time those two were at war, but now they only worked with each other, refusing to bring in any others. Zander knew for a fact that leadership in the Bronx had been angling for a part of that. Murray would’ve sold his firstborn to be included and now…

It was all too good to be true. He didn’t believe for a minute that Jersey would be allowed into that alliance when they didn’t know him, but he would at least listen to whatever bullshit the man in front of him was spewing. “What do you want?”

“I want this casino,”Israel Storm told Zander casually.

Next to Zander, Derri spluttered while Zander eyed the audacious sonofabitch opposite him. “You’re on jokes, I see.” He turned away, giving Israel his back. “Let me know when you want to actually talk business, until then…”

“I never joke about business,” Israel said behind him. “I want this casino.”

This casino was their biggest moneymaker. It was how they laundered their money, how they protected all the other illegal dealings, and without it everything became exposed. But Israel Storm would already know that. Zander faced the man once more, his head cocked. “You already know you’re not getting this casino, so why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

Israel stepped forward and Derri tensed as he kept coming until he stood in front of Zander, breath faintly touching his face. “Again, I don’t joke about business.” You couldn’t tell what he was thinking by his expression; he was locked up tight. Reggie wore an identical expression, though his eyes were on Israel as if Zander and Derri didn’t even warrant watching.

“I won’t ever need to be a part of your alliance so badly that I would expose my own neck for you,” Zander said coolly. “Not happening, so you can?—”

Israel smirked then. “I said I had something you needed. I didn’t say it had anything to do with the alliance.”

Zander narrowed his eyes. So this wasn’t an offer about joining his alliance? What kinda game was this motherfucker playing? “I’m too old and jaded for games. We’re grown-ass men, speak plainly.”

“An hour ago, a call was placed from a house near South Philly to a local U.S. Marshal field office not too far from here,” Reggie said, speaking for the first time. “That call lasted less than five minutes. Immediately afterward, another call was placed, from inside that same Marshal office, to a hitman. One your uncle used from time to time when he didn’t want anything traced back to him.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“There are two men inside that house,” Israel answered.

Zander tensed, dread slithering down his spine. No.

“Care to guess the identity of those two men?” Israel lifted an eyebrow, watching Zander as if he were a bug under a microscope.

Zander didn’t have time to hide the fear that chilled his veins. Didn’t have time to school his features into something that didn’t broadcast his terror. “Derri.” He barked the name while holding Israel Storm’s gaze.

“I’m on it,” Derri replied, and his footsteps hurried away.

Zander didn’t look away from the man in front of him. How could he know about Vince and Scotty? “What do you know?” How?

Israel’s expression broke a little at that moment, showing something that almost resembled pity. “I know your men won’t find them when they go looking.”

Something inside Zander screamed then. Inside. On the outside, he maintained his composure—barely—and asked through gritted teeth, “Why?”

“Because I have them.”

Zander lunged at him then, hands around his neck. Israel didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but Reggie did. He pressed his gun to Zander’s head.

“Don’t you ever in your motherfucking life call yourself putting hands on him. Let him go before I end you right here, right now.” It was the calmest, softest, deadliest threat Zander had ever received and he probably would have taken note of it. But he didn’t.

Couldn’t. “You’re gonna have to shoot me,” he told Reggie with a growl. “Do what you gotta do because I’m not doing shit until I get answers. Where are they?” He stared up into the darkness that was Israel Storm’s eyes. “Tell me!” he roared, squeezing the other man’s neck.

“Release him,” Reggie ordered. “Now.”

“Like I said,” Israel said conversationally. “I have something—or maybe somethings?”—he stressed the “s” at the end—“you need. Now lower your hands, Kian, otherwise you will never see those two men again.”

Fuck him. Zander wanted to eat that motherfucker’s smug face. Chew him up and spit him out. Fuck him, because, with just a handful of words, Israel Storm rendered him impotent and useless. And he knew. He’d known the power he had, which was why he’d been able to walk into the casino with just one man at his side. He knew the size of the weapon he was carrying. And now Zander had to bargain with him in order to protect?—

He couldn’t fucking breathe. He lowered his shaking hands from Israel’s neck and took a step back. “Are they hurt?” It occurred to him that he was allowing his weakness to bleed all over Israel Storm’s butter-colored Timbs. He was exposing his fucking insides right then, but he didn’t care. “Tell me, are they?—”

“They aight.” Israel shrugged. “For now.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you right now,” Zander lashed out. “You have the balls to fuck with a man’s heart, with his family? Do you know?—”

“I know.”Israel’s tone was grave when he said, “I know all about what love will—and won’t—make a man do.” He came in closer until they were chest to chest and he lowered his voice. “They’re your heart outside your chest. Your mistake was not keeping them close to you, where they belong. Your mistake was that altruistic bullshit, thinking about not getting them caught up in your life. That ship sailed the minute they crawled in here.” He touched a large palm to his own chest, covering his heart. “Your job was to keep them close, to protect them, and you failed.”

Zander gaped at him as Israel stepped back, standing side by side with Reggie. Just for the briefest of seconds, Zander forgot he wanted that man’s death more than he wanted to see the next sunrise. There’d been a gravity to his words, a familiarity, as if he knew what love was, as if he knew the terror and anguish spreading throughout Zander’s body with every inhale he took.

“I will kill you,” Zander told him. “Remember this moment, remember my face, remember my words. I will kill you.”

Israel grinned as Reggie stepped forward, getting in Zander’s face. “You can try,” Reggie said plainly. “But we all know that’s cap.”

“Boss.”

Zander spun around as Derri hurried into the room. He was pale, hair in disarray as if he’d been tunneling his fingers through it. “Our men are dead. The house is empty.”

Israel chuckled. “Get your boy caught up, Kian. Then send him to collect the package waiting for you in the trunk of my car outside.” When Zander turned to him, Israel lifted an eyebrow. “I assume you want to personally deal with the man who put a hit out on your”—he cleared his throat—“people?”

This motherfucker was on some next-level shit. Zander glared at Israel as he ordered, “Derri.”

“I’m sending some men now,” Derri told him.

“Cool. Cool.” Israel rubbed his hands together. “Last thing: You ever been to Brooklyn, Kian? Coney Island, specifically?”