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“Derri, it’s me.”
The man on the other end inhaled sharply. “You’re taking risks.”
Something Zander didn’t usually do, but things were a bit different now. “I’ve got him.”
“Him who?”
“The marshal, Vince Hardin.” If there was one person he trusted in this entire fucked-up world, it was Derri. Zander knew without a doubt his ex wouldn’t betray him.
“How the—” Derri spluttered in his ear. “What do you mean you have him?” he hissed into the phone.
Zander faced the office, keeping his eyes on the two men in there with their heads together, murmuring to each other. “Just what I said, I have him.”
“Then DuBois is gonna find you,” Derri pointed out. “He knows where the marshal is. He’s been tracking him the entire time since he left Jersey. Last I heard, they’re a few hours out.”
Zander squared his shoulders. “Let him come.”
“Fuck. Are you ready?”
Was he? But did that even matter if he had the element of surprise on his side? His former boss would never suspect he’d be walking into Zander’s trap. On Zander’s turf. “Keep your line open,” he told Derri. “I’ll check in later.”
“Zander. Zander, wait?—”
He hung up. He hadn’t expected all this to fall in his lap when he and Derri had concocted their plans, but it would work. He would make it work.
Shoving the phone into his pocket, he returned to the small back office and gestured to Scotty. “Go somewhere else. The marshal and I need to have a chat.”
Scotty shot to his feet and scampered off despite Vince telling him he didn’t have to leave.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Zander chuckled when Vince glared at him. “You two looked mighty cozy. Did I interrupt your escape plans?”
“Jealous?” Vince shot back.
Lips twitching, Zander dropped into a crouch so he’d be at eye level with the other man. “What’s there to be jealous of? You think either of you will survive if you leave here?”
“You think you can stop us?”
Look at him, so defiant. So confident. Zander stared at him, ignoring the stir of approval in his chest. “I think you ran from the frying pan and landed in the fire, Marshal.” He grinned when confusion darkened Vince’s eyes. “As we speak, Murray DuBois and his assassins are closing in on you.” He named his former boss, the same man who wanted Vince dead, and watched the blood drain from Vince’s face.
“What—How do you know that name?” he whispered.
“Why wouldn’t I know it?” Zander lifted a shoulder casually. “I’m his top assassin.”
7
Vince’s hand shot out before he’d had a second to think, grabbing Zander by the throat and squeezing. “What did you say? What the fuck did you just say?”
Zander didn’t fight his grip, even though Vince squeezed him as tight as he could despite the pain and effort it took.
But he couldn’t— “I’m his top assassin.” That didn’t make sense. He knew every single one of Murray DuBois’s men. Those motherfuckers were the worst of the worst. His eyes widened and he stared at Zander, who watched him, lips curled into a sneer. His features were perpetually arranged into a scowl. No remorse. No fucking morals.
Recognition turned Vince’s hand limp and it fell away from Zander’s throat. “You’re Ki?—”
“Don’t you fucking speak that name!” Zander snarled in his face. He lowered his head, nose almost touching Vince’s, eyes flashing a warning that set Vince’s insides roiling. “The person who once had that name is dead. Speak it and it will be the last thing you ever do.”
The threat shook Vince out of his surprised stupor. “Let that be the last time you threaten me, asshole. I don’t give a fuck who you used to be. You don’t scare me.”
