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“What’s your plan?” He opened his eyes then. “I’m guessing Murray doesn’t know you’re here?” He continued when Zander didn’t respond. “So, you’ll be a surprise. He’s only expecting me. You’ll ambush him,” he mused to himself, glancing around. “You said he’s coming with men. You’re only one man and I doubt you have an arsenal in here to take them on.” He turned back to Zander. “So what, is this a suicide mission or something?”
Zander widened his eyes in an exaggerated show of surprise. “Oh, you’re asking me?” He touched his chest. “I thought you’d already worked it all out.”
This guy. “I don’t like you,” Vince told him softly. Plainly.
“I’m heartbroken.”
“You’re a dick,” Vince said. “But worse than that, you’re a killer with no conscience. I imagine you’re all hollow inside, a dried-out husk with no feeling masquerading as a human being.”
Zander stared back at him, something like fascination peeking out behind the warning signs flashing in his eyes. When Vince finished talking, Zander leaned forward and touched his chin, stroking the rough pad of a finger across his jaw. Vince held himself still, refusing to look away.
“You’ve got a pretty mouth,” Zander said matter-of-factly. “Is that all it does, though, talk? Or do you also use it for other things?”
Did he—Did he just ask Vince what that mouth do?
8
Scotty stared down at the ground, tapping his right foot against the floor. A heavy silence permeated the space as he inhaled myriad smells inside the mechanic shop: machinery, oil, rust, dust. He couldn’t help glancing at the door. It was right there and no one was around watching him.
Yeah, Zander had warned him, but maybe Scotty could just… He chanced a quick glance over to the back office. Through the window, he made out the other two men, deep in conversation. A conversation that didn’t look to be productive, not with the scowl on Vince’s face. Or maybe that was just the marshal being in pain.
A regretful pang hit Scotty in the chest and he rubbed the spot right near his sternum.
He’d shot a man. Vince didn’t appear to blame him, it seemed as though he’d directed all his animosity toward Zander, but Scotty couldn’t get over the guilt. He wished…so many things. Mostly, he wished he hadn’t made the decision to break into this place. Zander could’ve hurt him at any time. The fact that he hadn’t done so yet didn’t mean anything.
Zander scared him, but Vince acted as a sort of buffer. Which was way more than Scotty ever had growing up.
If he snuck off—and he wasn’t even sure that he could—Vince would be left with Zander. Scotty didn’t trust the mechanic to take care of Vince, so Scotty had to do it himself. It was the least he could do.
He blew out a breath, shoulders sagging.
So, he was staying then?
His stomach roiled and he rubbed it, swallowing, hoping he didn’t throw up again. Once was enough. Even now his face heated with embarrassment that he’d almost vomited on Zander.
He would have deserved it, though.
His lips twitched at the thought as he stared at them through the window. They were closer now, the back of Zander’s head blocking Scotty’s view of Vince. He took an involuntary step toward the office.
He didn’t know what they were discussing but it was clearly something important. Zander had secrets and schemes up his sleeve. Scotty didn’t like him, but Vince… He’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And he needed medical help. Scotty couldn’t even give him that.
He shoved agitated fingers through his hair. His fingers got stuck in the tangled strands and he frowned, trying to work out when was the last time he’d gotten a haircut. He’d swept up the floors for the barber over on Fourth Street and in exchange, he’d given Scotty a trim. But that had been months and months ago. Sometimes it was so hard to keep things like that straight, to remember to take care of himself, because he’d get so lost in trying to outrun the sound of a skull cracking against the edge of a countertop or trying to wash away the memories of blood pooling around his feet.
Fuck. His breath turned ragged, chest constricting. Don’t think about it. This was not the place to have a meltdown. Maybe Zander would kill him and put him out of his misery; little did he know he’d be doing Scotty a favor. He was a coward, otherwise he’d do it himself. He’d thought about it a lot, though. What if he took a hit and never came down off that high? What if he closed his eyes and never woke up? Death promised oblivion, and that was what he’d been searching for so desperately for so long.
He made his way back to the office. When he entered, he found Vince and Zander almost nose to nose, Zander stroking Vince’s chin while Vince remained still. He didn’t know what was going on, but it felt as if Scotty was interrupting something. As if the two men had forgotten his existence, and wasn’t that the story of his life? It probably shouldn’t affect him anymore, but it did.
As if reading Scotty’s mind, Vince’s gaze flickered over him and his expression softened, smoothing out. Was he—Was he glad to see Scotty? Not that it should matter. They were strangers, the three of them, and Scotty had shot Vince, for fuck’s sake. Still, something warmed in his chest a little bit when Vince looked at him. Then Zander glanced his way, too, glowering, and the warmth in Scotty’s chest froze over.
He didn’t like that look in Zander’s eyes. Didn’t trust it. It put him on alert and he cursed himself for not attempting to escape when he’d been alone out there.
“Scotty, come here.”
Zander’s hand fell away from Vince’s chin as Vince gestured Scotty over. The marshal ignored Zander, acting as if Zander ceased to exist, his full focus on Scotty. There was a lightness in his eyes now that wasn’t there when Scotty first entered, and he wondered selfishly, stupidly, if that lightness was for him, because of him.
Fucking idiot. That sounded suspiciously like Don’s voice ringing in his head.
Scotty went over to Vince on the couch and Zander got to his feet, expression hard as he turned and walked out of the office, the door banging behind him. Vince watched him leave, forehead creased in a frown, absently stroking his injured shoulder.
