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“You wanted to see me, boss?” the guy who had to be Carmine asked.
Zander didn’t recognize him; he’d probably come into the fold after Zander had left. Zander didn’t acknowledge him; instead, he held out a hand to Trem. “Your piece.”
Derri took a step forward. “Zander.”
Zander shot him a look that shut his ass up. Trem and Carmine were clearly confused, but Trem did as Zander asked; he pulled his Glock from his waist and strode over, placing it in Zander’s palm. Zander nodded his thanks, then finally turned to Carmine, who was watching with a frown. He was a tall guy and big, too, with short dark hair and a trim goatee.
“You hit Vince—the marshal—with your gun?”
“Zander, come on.” Derri hadn’t learned to shut the fuck up yet. Zander would have to teach him.
“Uh.” Carmine blinked at Zander. “Yeah, he was trying to—” He didn’t get to finish. Zander shot him between the eyes and his body jerked before crashing backward to the floor.
“Let it be known…touch Vince or Scotty and you die,” Zander said calmly. His fingers flexed on the gun’s trigger and he relaxed his grip, putting the weapon down beside him on the mattress. “Those two are not to be touched. In fact, you treat them the way you would treat me. And that’s a fucking order.” He held first Trem’s then Derri’s gaze. “Is that understood?”
“Yes, boss.” Trem nodded.
It took a while before Derri jerked his head in the semblance of a nod, jaw ticking, eyes narrowed to flints. Zander didn’t give a fuck what he thought. He’d issued an order and it would be followed or there would be grave consequences.
Because he was the one in charge. His uncle’s empire belonged to him now.
18
Running a criminal organization was an all-consuming thing, even though Zander had been preparing for the task for quite some time. It’d been the plan he and Derri had put in place once Zander had begun to suspect his uncle could be the one behind his family’s murder.
Kill the head and take over.
He’d waited patiently for the time and it’d arrived way sooner than he’d anticipated. And not without complications. Two of whom he didn’t get to see nearly as much as he wanted to.
He had some decisions to make, and he didn’t know if he could be in Vince’s and Scotty’s presence and do the right thing.
Cutting off all ties with them would be the right thing—put distance between himself and them. Now that he was on this path, he couldn’t afford distractions or weaknesses.
Vince and Scotty were all of that.
And more.
Still, he yearned for them in ways he didn’t think himself capable of feeling.
“The Albanians want a sit-down.” Derri’s voice cut through the noise in Zander’s head. “They could be our strongest ally—” He paused. “—or our biggest threat.”
He wasn’t saying shit Zander didn’t already know. He’d thought he was ready. Was he?
“You need to make a decision,” Derri said urgently. “When are we leaving this place?”
This place was the house they’d brought Zander to when he’d been unconscious. A loaner from another ally. But Derri was right; they weren’t on their home turf. Zander had meetings and shit to do that couldn’t be handled remotely. His uncle had left a mess back in Jersey and it was now all on Zander’s shoulders to clean up. But clean it up he would because he’d already promised himself he would be nothing like that fucker.
But leaving this house, leaving Alabama, would mean leaving Scotty. It would mean leaving Vince. Because Zander didn’t know who they were outside of Alabama. He didn’t want to find out for fear that knowledge would bring its own consequences.
Maybe he was a coward for real.
“Zander.”
He turned to find Derri staring at him, concern in his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Zander grunted. “I’m fine.”
