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Scotty touched Vince’s knee. “Do you need more pain pills?” All Zander had available were over-the-counter pain meds, but Vince had told Scotty earlier that they helped a bit.
Vince shook his head at the question. “No. I’m okay.”
Was he, though? “What did he—” Scotty flicked his gaze to the door and then back to Vince. “Did he hurt you?” Not as if he could do anything if the answer turned out to be yes, but he still had to ask.
Vince’s lips twitched. “No, Zander didn’t hurt me.” But there was a heaviness to his voice and words that Scotty didn’t miss. Vince shook his head slightly as if to clear it and blew out a breath. “Tell me about yourself, Scotty.”
Scotty stiffened, he couldn’t help it. “W-what do you want to know?”
Vince watched him, eyes a little bit knowing. “Whatever you feel comfortable sharing.”
“And will you…” Scotty licked his lips. “Will you also tell me about you?”
Vince nodded. “I will. Yes.” He paused, then asked, “Would you like me to go first?”
“Yes, please.” The words couldn’t leave Scotty’s mouth fast enough, but Vince didn’t seem to mind.
He was a cop, but not just any old cop. A federal marshal. He probably saw and heard bad things every day. Scotty didn’t have to tell Vince his life story. But he wanted to. He ached to share it with someone who wasn’t on a first-name basis with his uncle, who wasn’t afraid of the man or dependent on him for their livelihood. Yes, he would share his story with Vince.
“Well, I’m forty-three and I’m from New Jersey,” Vince said.
“That’s close to New York, right?” He’d never left Alabama. Never left the town where he’d grown up. Not for a day or even an hour. For all that Don hated him and wanted him dead, his uncle also preferred to keep him close.
“It is close to New York.”
“You have family there?” Scotty used to dream of a large family. Back when he’d thought somebody out there would come and rescue him.
“I don’t.” Vince shook his head. “I grew up in foster care, didn’t have anyone. Now it’s just me.”
So they had that in common. “No children or-or a wife or husband?”
Vince grinned and the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that shouldn’t be appealing but somehow…was? “No children. No husband. Or wife either.”
For some reason, it made Scotty sad, the thought of Vince being alone. “Do you like being a federal marshal?’
“I do. It’s the only thing I’m good at apparently.”
Scotty didn’t know what that meant, but he knew it couldn’t be true. He parted his lips to tell Vince that just as the office door opened and Zander stepped inside. Scotty wanted to take away the sudden melancholy that darkened Vince’s eyes. But instead, entirely different words came out of his mouth. “I watched my uncle kill my mother.”
Zander froze in his tracks at Scotty’s words.
“I watched my uncle kill my mother.”
His gaze flew to Scotty, who was staring at the floor, teeth worrying his bottom lip, then to Vince, whose eyes had widened to at least twice their normal size.
“Fuck.” Vince was the one who spoke, touching Scotty’s shoulder. “Scotty, I’m?—”
Zander should leave. He didn’t want to be a part of…whatever this thing was. The marshal and Scotty bonding. He didn’t want to be involved, didn’t want to know anything about Scotty that he didn’t already know.
But his feet refused to work, so he found himself locked in place with his back against the door. An unwilling witness as Scotty spoke, voice soft and sounding as if it came from far away.
“It was my birthday and they were arguing.” A red flush crept up over his neck and throat, then covered his face completely.
Zander couldn’t stop staring at him, at the pain his posture broadcast.
“I don’t know what they were arguing about, but I entered the room just as he slapped her. She swung back at him and he—” Scotty’s voice seemed to collapse then and his gaze lifted, settling on Zander, who tensed.
Why him?
