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Fuck.
“The order is to keep the marshal alive and take him back to Jersey.”
Zander cocked his head. “Okay, that’s new.” They don’t usually take hostages. By the time DuBois’s killers showed up, it was to do just that…kill.
“Exactly!” Derri’s voice lowered. “And if you think about it, why is Dubois himself coming to deal with the marshal? Why not let the guys handle it?”
“Because it’s personal,” Zander murmured.
“Yup. The marshal has something he wants.”
Ah. And just like that, the plot thickens. Zander turned around slowly, eyeing Vince as he reclined on the couch. “Derri, I’m gonna go, but I’ll keep my phone on. Call or text if anything comes up.” He ended the call before his ex responded, shoving the phone into his pocket as he advanced on Vince once again.
“That name is familiar. Derri.” Vince repeated it with a frown. “Derri Parker, right? Got lots of surveillance images of the two of you.”
“He’s my ex.” Zander willingly gave up that bit of info because it didn’t really matter.
“Oh.” Vince blinked. “We didn’t know that.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Zander snorted. “You guys don’t know half the shit you think you do.”
“Why did you leave him behind when you left?”
Oh, they definitely weren’t talking about that. “What do you have that DuBois wants?”
“What?”
“You heard me, so I’m not gonna repeat myself.” Zander lowered himself into a crouch, bringing himself eye to eye with Vince. “My uncle doesn’t involve himself in shit like this. If he wants you dead then he sends out people like me and Derri to handle it, but now he’s coming for you personally. And you’re not to be killed, at least not right away. He’s taking you back to Jersey with him.”
Vince just stared at him.
“He wants you alive for a reason, and that can only mean you have something, be it information or otherwise, that he wants.”
Vince’s expression gave away nothing. “Promise me you’ll protect Scotty when I’m gone.”
Zander bristled. “I’m not?—”
“Fucking promise!” Vince gritted out as he struggled into a sitting position. “You strike me as a man who keeps his word. I know people like you always have these weird honor codes and shit. I want you to promise you’ll protect Scotty, from himself, from his uncle. Zander, please! I’m begging you to do something good for once in your fucking life. Protect him.”
“Why do you care?”
“Nobody cared about me. No one protected me.” Vince’s eyes glistened. “And I know you think this has something to do with David, the boy I didn’t save—and maybe it does—but I see something good in Scotty. He never had a chance because no one ever gave him one. He deserves a good life, so when I’m dead, I want you to make sure he gets it.”
That was— “You’re trusting me with that?”
“Yes.” Vince nodded. “Promise you’ll do it and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
The door opened then and they both turned toward it as Scotty entered, clutching a bag of potato chips that he hesitantly held out to Zander when he got to his feet.
“Here. I said I’d get you one if you told us your story.” Scotty fidgeted, lips worrying his bottom lip, eyes still red but dry. “I try to always keep my word.” He paused. “And you deserve it.”
Something inside Zander quivered. The fuck? He turned to Vince as if the marshal might have the answer to what was happening, but all Vince did was smile. At Zander. At Scotty, whose hand was still outstretched, offering Zander the chips.
“Thanks.” He couldn’t help the gruffness in his voice as he took the snack, fingertips brushing Scotty’s. “I’ll do it,” he blurted out, turning to Vince. “You have my word.”
Relief washed over Vince’s face and he nodded. “Good.” He patted a space on the couch next to him. “Now, sit down, you two. I have a story to tell.”
11
