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“Here.” He handed one of the noodle cups to Scotty, then turned to Vince. “I’m feeding you.”
Vince’s eyes flashed. “I can?—”
“Not up for debate.” He could’ve let Scotty feed Vince. Or yeah, Vince could’ve maybe handled it himself, but Zander liked the way Vince’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. The way his lips tightened. Don’t look at his mouth. Except he had to, didn’t he? His dick twitched in the strangling confines of his jeans and he wanted to take himself in hand so badly.
This was unexpected.
He didn’t like unexpected.
But the whole fucking night had been just that, hadn’t it? Scotty and Vince barging into his life and turning it upside down.
Unexpected. That and everything that occurred since.
Vince didn’t speak as he forced himself to sit up straighter. Zander had checked his wound and changed the bandage earlier and from what he could tell it was looking good. So far. He still had to watch to ensure Vince didn’t contract an infection.
What did it matter, if Murray was only gonna kill him in the end?
His chest tightened at that reminder, but he pushed it aside, blowing on a forkful of noodles before holding it up to Vince’s mouth.
The agent rolled his eyes. “You’re treating me like an invalid.”
Zander lifted an eyebrow. “Do you or do you not have a hole in your fucking body, delivered by your boyfriend over there?” He shoved the food into Vince’s mouth when the other man’s lips parted as if to respond.
Vince chewed, holding his gaze. Then he spoke after swallowing. “Careful or I might think you’re jealous.” He licked his lips, and fuck him, Zander felt that wet swipe in his nuts.
“What’s there to be jealous of?” he asked hoarsely.
Vince’s lips twitched. “You tell me.”
“Are you talking or feeding him?” Scotty demanded. “Because I can do it. I can feed Vince.”
This guy. Zander glared at him. “I liked you better when you were scared of me.”
Scotty’s face reddened. The tips of his ears too. And how the fuck did Zander find the sight adorable? Christ, what was happening?
“I’m just saying?—”
“Don’t say shit!” Zander barked at Scotty. “Just eat the fucking food. God.” Why was he still keeping Scotty alive? He didn’t even know. Then he met Vince’s eyes and remembered he’d made a promise. Given his word. Goddamn it. He fed Vince while grinding his teeth. His stomach was empty, the aroma of the noodles making it rumble, but he held out until he’d finished feeding Vince and handed him a bottle of water.
“How’s the pain? You need painkillers?” If anyone ever told him he’d be taking care of a federal marshal, one who’d been after him for years, he’d have laughed and shot them in the face. But here he was. And he wasn’t going to acknowledge the feeling that wormed its way through his veins when he’d first walked into the room and spotted Vince and Scotty kissing.
He wasn’t going to admit to the want that had knifed his gut so deep and sharp.
“I’m fine.” Vince caught Zander’s wrist.
Zander froze. He knew he was supposed to pull away, put distance between them, but he couldn’t. Just like he couldn’t help it that his gaze dropped from Vince’s eyes to his mouth. Funny how one minute Zander was in control, devoid of any feelings, then suddenly those two bum-rushed their way into his life and now he couldn’t get a handle on who he used to be.
Those two had him spilling his secrets.
Wanting things.
Questioning himself.
What the fuck was happening?
He found the strength somehow to yank away from Vince’s grip. He shot to his feet, taking his own food with him as he left the room. It occurred to him that he was running and the man he used to be would never do such a thing, but he kept going anyway. Making his way out to the cars, he sat on the bumper of a Ford Focus—facing the office entrance—and angrily shoved noodles into his mouth.
He should call Derri.
