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Vince stood outside the car with a knife in his hand, a pale and clearly exhausted Scotty slumped in the front passenger seat, his head tilted back, eyes closed.
Zander was still out, stretched out in the back seat, moaning every so often.
One minute everything was still and silent, and the next, three men were in front of him. Vince tensed. He recognized Derri, a tall and slender motherfucker with a scar on his chin, blue eyes that held the same scary darkness as Zander’s, and severely cropped blond hair. His gaze bounced off Vince and then Scotty, lips curling in obvious distaste. But when he finally spotted Zander, he began barking orders.
Vince watched intently as they worked on Zander. One of the men had to be a doctor because he pulled out a bag and started removing vials and shit.
Scotty got out of the car and stood at Vince’s side, taking it all in just as quietly. Vince remained tense, on high alert. His eyes burned and he was beyond exhausted, but he couldn’t rest. Zander had trusted Derri, but Vince didn’t. The only people he trusted were Scotty and Zander, and Zander was unconscious, fighting for his life.
He’d gotten hurt while dealing with his uncle on Vince’s behalf. Vince swallowed the guilt, fisting his hands when the doctor guy finished cleaning Zander’s wound and began stitching him up.
Zander cried out when the sharp needle punctured his skin, but he still didn’t wake.
“Be careful with him,” Scotty pleaded. “You’re hurting him.” He moved forward but Derri stepped in front of him.
Zander’s ex didn’t bother hiding his contempt when he said, “You two can take off. We’ve got this.”
Vince shook his head. “We’re not leaving.”
Derri lifted an eyebrow. “No?”
“Did Zander know you’d be coming down here with his uncle?” Vince tossed back at him. “I’m guessing not. He thinks he can trust you, but I don’t, so I’m staying”—he put an arm around Scotty’s stiff shoulders—“we’re staying until Zander tells us to leave.”
Derri cocked his head, eyes and words condemning Vince when he said, “He’s in the condition he’s in because of you. I could deal with the two of you now and beg his forgiveness later. He’ll give it.”
“Will he?” Derri’s words made Vince’s insides tremble because he didn’t know if they were true or not. Derri and Zander had a relationship that spanned years; they’d built trust and respect between them. What did Vince and Scotty have? Still, affecting a bravado he pulled out of his ass, Vince shrugged. “Do what you have to do but we’re sticking to you motherfuckers like glue. Someone needs to look out for Zander.”
Derri scoffed and opened his mouth to say something else, but the doctor called out to him.
“D, I’m done. We gotta get him out of here.” He stood and tugged bloodied gloves off his hands, dropping them into a garbage bag the third guy—silent so far—held out.
Without looking back at Vince and Scotty, Derri turned away, addressing the doctor. “Can we move him? Is it safe?”
“We have to.” The doctor gazed down at Zander, expression pinched.
Vince caught the worry on Derri’s features before he smothered it. Derri cared about Zander’s well-being. That had to be a good thing. It meant he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Zander, right? But did that extend to Vince and Scotty? Would Derri see killing them as hurting Zander?
Scotty took Vince’s hand, threading their fingers, and Vince held him tightly as they watched the three men maneuver Zander, getting him out of the car’s back seat and taking him over to a large SUV parked a short distance away that Vince hadn’t even seen or heard pull up.
What the hell?
The men got Zander into the car and Vince was grateful that they took their time with him, careful not to jostle him too much. Vince released Scotty’s hand to grab the bag with money and phones Zander had stashed in the trunk of his getaway car, wincing with the act. He’d been so focused on other things he’d forgotten about his wound.
“Bring them,” Derri barked.
Then the silent guy—clearly he was the muscle—was there, grabbing Vince by the injured shoulder.
Vince hissed in pain, the bag falling from his hand that was suddenly useless. “Fuck, take it easy.”
“Don’t hurt him!” Scotty yelled, pushing Muscle Man away.
In a blink, the guy had a gun pressed to a terrified Scotty’s forehead, eyes gleaming with obvious bloodlust.
Shit! “Hey, take it easy. Put that fucking gun down.” Vince tried to keep his voice even, but he could feel Scotty shaking next to him. Vince didn’t know how he would manage it, but he was going to kill that fucker if he even left a mark on Scotty.
Muscle Man didn’t twitch, didn’t speak, he just kept the gun in Scotty’s pale face until Derri yelled out from the front passenger side of the SUV. “Trem, get your ass in gear, we don’t have time for this!”
Muscle Man—Trem—lowered the gun reluctantly, securing it in his waistband, and gestured for Vince and Scotty to go to the SUV. Scotty picked up the bag Vince had dropped and Vince took his free hand, tugging him close.
