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Vince paused his pacing, fists clenched, and glanced over to the bed where Scotty was curled in on himself, staring unblinking up at the ceiling. He barely ate, hardly slept, and only offered up single-word responses whenever Vince spoke to him.
Worry tore at Vince—worry for Zander, worry for Scotty. He didn’t know the first thing to do because it felt as if lately any move he made turned out to be the wrong one.
Scotty would be better if they weren’t locked up in this house. It was large, from what little Vince had seen when they’d first arrived. The trip from the parking garage to their destination had taken them about half an hour or so, the drive made at breakneck speed out of fear for Zander.
How was he?
Vince could yell and pound his fists on the locked door again, but all that would get him was a sore throat and aching hands when it was all said and done. Nobody would come, he knew that now. Nobody would answer.
Would Zander approve of how Derri treated them? Would he see Derri’s side of things? Or would he care that Scotty cried out for him in his sleep and didn’t settle until Vince wrapped both arms around him and stroked his back? Would Zander care that Vince didn’t have an appetite, but he forced himself to scarf down whatever food Derri’s men brought in just so he could have some strength if worse came to worst and Derri decided to kill him and Scotty?
Scotty made a sound, and Vince shook himself out of his reverie, striding over to the bed and climbing on. Scotty didn’t move.
“Hey.” Vince stroked his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
The younger man didn’t answer.
Vince swallowed. He was losing Scotty, he knew that. But he was powerless. There was no escape, not from this windowless room with men ready to kill them waiting on the other side. Hopelessness washed over him and he tugged Scotty close, hugging him to his chest, cupping the back of his head. Vince also wanted to curl up and mope, but he couldn’t. Someone had to take care of Scotty. Someone had to be on alert.
Scotty didn’t pull away from him, but he didn’t do anything else either. He just remained stiff in Vince’s arms.
Vince blinked fiercely, pressing his lips to Scotty’s temple. “When we get out of here, I’m gonna take you on a date,” he murmured, staring at the opposite wall. “I can’t remember the last time I went on one, but we’ll do it. Dress up all fancy and shit, get a car service so we can drink as much as we want. We’ll go to one of those fancy places where you can’t even pronounce half the shit on the menu.” Scotty didn’t utter a word. “You’ll love it, I promise.” He paused. “I need you to hold on for me. Just a little bit longer.” His voice broke. “Hold on for me, Scotty, please. For Zander.”
Hesitant arms, trembling slightly, wrapped around him and Vince closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, chin quivering. Fuck, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this—useless, lost. His medication was back at Zander’s shop, in his car, clearly lost now. He would have to get a new prescription, but who knew when he’d get the opportunity to call his doctor?
He should have had a plan. Should have figured out a way out of his predicament already, but it wasn’t just himself he had to worry about. It wasn’t just Scotty, either. He couldn’t leave without knowing what was going on with Zander, whether he was alive or dead. If only he could?—
The jangle of keys at the door caught his attention and he frowned. They’d had dinner not even two hours ago, so they shouldn’t be having visitors for the rest of the evening. He released Scotty and got off the bed just as Derri entered, flanked by three of his men, fully armed.
The fully armed part had never really made sense to Vince. Why would they need so many guns and men to watch over Vince and Scotty when they were clearly defenseless? Derri hadn’t offered up a response when Vince had asked that question. Now, he lifted an eyebrow at Derri, who stared at him, hatred on full display in his blue eyes.
Aside from making it his life’s work over the past few years to take down DuBois and his men and put them behind bars, Vince couldn’t figure out why Derri hated him so much.
“Come,” Derri barked.
Vince folded his arms. “I’m not leaving.”
“I could make you.”
“You could try,” Vince retorted, though that was all false bravado. If Derri really wanted him gone, Vince had no doubt he would be because there was nothing he could do about it.
“He’s awake and he wants to see you,” Derri said begrudgingly.
It took a while for the words to register and when they did, Vince’s body jolted. “He’s—Zander? Zander is awake?”
On the bed, Scotty gasped.
Derri turned away, giving Vince his back. “You and the pathetic one”—the way he referred to Scotty— “let’s go. Now!”
“He’s awake.” Vince spun around, taking Scotty’s hand with a grin. “Let’s go see Zander.”
Scotty blinked big, red-rimmed eyes up at him and then crawled off the bed. His body wavered when he stood in front of Vince, but Vince steadied him with a gentle touch on his shoulder before sliding his hand down to link their fingers, holding him tightly as they followed Derri and his men out of the room.
They set off at a trot, Vince and Scotty hurrying to catch up. Heart lodged in his throat, Vince clung to the hope that bloomed hot and bright in his chest. Zander was awake so that must mean he was healthy. And he wanted to see them.
What did it mean?
He bit his tongue to keep from flinging questions at Derri’s back.
