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“David had two older brothers.” Vince found himself talking, heard himself uttering the words. Shut up. Shut up. But they just kept coming, rolling off his tongue and dropping between them, filling the tiny space and turning it claustrophobic. “They were also in the system and they found me when I was nineteen. I don’t know how. They broke into my studio apartment.” His very first rental. He’d been so proud of that place even though it was barely bigger than a shoebox. “They kept me chained and locked up in there for a week.” With no friends or family, living in a place where everybody minded their own business, nobody came knocking. When they were done with him, he couldn’t walk. Couldn’t speak. “All the damage that had been inflicted on David, they did to me.” And then some. “Then they set the place on fire with me inside.”
Darkness turned Zander’s features into a macabre thing of beauty. And if Vince wasn’t so far gone, he’d probably question who that bloodlust was directed at. A sound snapped his connection with Zander, and Vince turned his head to find Scotty standing in the open doorway, tears filling his eyes.
Zander tried to move away then, but Vince tightened his grip on him, holding him in place. Zander froze. Guess he didn’t want his freedom badly enough. Or maybe he wanted to listen to Vince’s pain more. “I don’t remember being rescued, but I woke up in the hospital a week later. No burns, but severe smoke inhalation. They’d knocked a few of my teeth out, broken my left arm, my legs, fucked up my ribs, and I had a concussion.” He paused. Took a deep breath. “They left scars on my body as well. Probably to ensure I never forgot.” Those scars were faded now, but back then it’d taken a long time before he could look at himself in a mirror.
Scotty was sobbing. Vince had stopped feeling anything when he thought about that time in his life. But when Scotty came over and knelt in front of him, side by side with Zander, offering a hug, Vince finally dropped his hand from Zander’s throat and took it.
He met Zander’s eyes over Scotty’s shoulder. “Those were the consequences of my inaction. You wanted to know…and now you do.”
The harrowing details of Vince’s story pulled all the emotion from Scotty. The last thing he wanted to do was appear weak in front of the other men, but he couldn’t help it. He knew Vince had left out the more gory details of what he’d experienced, but just the little bit he’d shared had Scotty weeping for him.
Maybe this was why he felt so safe with Vince. More drawn to him.
Zander kept Scotty on his toes as he waited to see what the mechanic would do or say. But Vince provided a safety Scotty didn’t think he’d ever had; at least, not after his mother’s death at his uncle’s hands. He was all fucked up, too, as they all three knew, but it wasn’t lost on him that he could be using Vince as some kind of crutch.
At that moment, though, he didn’t care.
It felt good to hug Vince, to feel the other man’s right arm wrap around him. Scotty couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a hug from anyone or the last time he’d been touched with anything other than resentment or disgust. Weird place and circumstance to find it, but he didn’t care.
Vince did that thing he’d done before, brushing his lips over Scotty’s temple, and Scotty held back a sigh. The weight of a stare burned his nape and he didn’t have to look to know Zander was watching them—him—with those dark eyes, always judging, always angry. Scotty wished he knew what Zander’s deal was, but the mechanic wasn’t going to volunteer any details. He knew that much.
He tightened his hold on Vince and murmured, “I’m sorry for what you went through.” Somebody had to say it. He’d wished so many times somebody would say it to him. And mean it. Nobody ever did.
“I’m sorry too,” Vince said softly. “You didn’t deserve the things you’ve been through.”
Scotty swallowed a sob. Neither of them deserved it and it wasn’t fair, but that was the way the world worked, wasn’t it?
Vince released him and Scotty shifted away only for Vince to cup his face with his one good hand, peering into his eyes.
“Are you okay?” His gaze roamed Scotty’s face. “You got something to eat?”
Scotty nodded. “Yeah, and also…” He picked up the small bag of chips from where he’d dropped it on the floor next to them. “I brought this for you.”
Vince smiled and Scotty stared at him, blinking. He was such a contrast to Zander, even after what he’d shared. Not as dark or jaded or sullen. He eased away from Vince, sitting on the floor at his feet. Zander had moved, too, still on the floor but positioned farther away as he sat watching them with hooded eyes. Scotty tore open the bag of chips and held it out to Vince, who took it with a grateful smile.
Scotty couldn’t help but respond, giving Vince a hesitant smile of his own. There hadn’t been anything to smile about in his life. And their current predicament didn’t lend itself to much smiling either, but it didn’t matter. Because when Vince smiled Scotty wanted to make the gesture permanent.
“I don’t get any?”
Zander’s rumbled words froze Scotty for a beat, and when he finally dropped his hands back into his lap, they trembled slightly. Something about Zander set him on edge. Maybe because he knew the shop owner wouldn’t think twice about killing him. Maybe Zander was planning the different ways to kill and dispose of his body even now as he stared at Scotty with a raised eyebrow, lips curled in a smirk. Scotty’s heart thudded in his chest and he gritted his teeth, shifting closer to Vince.
Although…there wasn’t much Vince could do to protect him if Zander decided Scotty’s time was up.
He took a deep breath and raised his chin the tiniest fraction. “T-tell us your story and I’ll get y-your chips.” His entire body flushed hot in embarrassment at the stutter that gave away just how scared he was of Zander. Clearly, he wanted to die because why would those words come out of his mouth?
A hand touched his shoulder, Vince offering comfort as Zander stared Scotty down. It was there in his eyes, the million ways he could kill Scotty. Reaching out blindly, Scotty touched Vince’s knee, muscles bunched and ready to bolt. But it wasn’t as if he could get far if?—
“Are you blackmailing me?” Zander got to his feet slowly.
“Zander.” Vince issued the warning in a low tone, one Scotty barely heard. He was too busy holding his breath, gaze darting from Zander to the door and back.
Zander strode to them, standing over Scotty, who licked his dry lips and met his gaze, neck hurting from staring up at the tall man.
“Zander.” Vince’s voice was louder, the warning more pronounced.
“Let him speak for himself, Marshal.” Zander didn’t break eye contact with Scotty, but his voice held a bit of mocking when he said, “Looks as if he’s getting a bit of a backbone.” He lowered himself to a crouch in front of Scotty, knees apart, elbows on his thighs. “Are you, junkie?”
“I told you not to call him that!”
