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Scotty stood on the balcony of the penthouse they’d been deposited in, staring out over blue waters, a large wheel in the distance, his hands squeezing the metal railing.
They’d almost died.
Vince had been the one to shake Scotty awake, and he’d come to awareness with gunshots ringing in his ears. A shootout had happened right outside their closed bedroom door. Terror had frozen him then and if Scotty had to be honest with himself, that terror hadn’t left him yet. He’d almost fucking wet himself when their bedroom door was kicked in and armed men rushed in, their faces covered. Vince, even with the two guns Scotty knew he had, had no opportunity to defend them, and he and Scotty had been overpowered in no time.
He’d expected death, had clung to Vince—who’d gripped him just as tightly—with tears streaming down his face. Scotty had been sure they were about to die. But instead, the armed men had led them out of the bedroom, past the fallen bodies that littered the house—bodies that had to be Zander’s men, according to Vince—and outside into waiting vehicles. They’d separated them and that’s when Scotty had found an ounce of bravery to fight, to scream. Vince had done the same; Scotty had heard him yelling, cursing, threatening.
But it had done no good.
They were shoved into separate vehicles, mouths taped shut, bags over their heads, and handcuffed. Scotty had tried to hold on to his bravery. He’d tried to act the way he’d seen Vince and even Zander act, but the truth was he’d been scared shitless, convinced whoever had kidnapped them was taking them to their deaths. He wouldn’t see Vince again. Wouldn’t see Zander. Would Zander even know what happened to them?
The drive had felt endless until it actually ended and he was led, the bag still over his head, to this place. When they’d finally removed the obstruction over his eyes, the tape over his mouth, and the handcuffs, Vince had been waiting for him. Scotty had held on to his tears just until they were left alone, then he’d collapsed into Vince’s arms. They were locked in with masked and armed men outside the door and had no phones, no way of contacting anyone. And there’d been no explanation as to who’d taken them or what they wanted.
But Vince suspected it had to do with Zander.
They just had to wait, he’d told Scotty.
They’d been taken in the early hours of the morning. Now, night was only a few hours away. Food had arrived with a knock on the door, but other than that there’d been no contact with anyone else. Scotty was trying to be brave, but he knew he wasn’t pulling it off. He’d experienced so much trauma with his uncle growing up, with his time doing drugs on the streets, but this life was something entirely different. This world he’d stepped into, the one that Vince and Zander occupied, was something else.
His heart was loud in his ears, breaths even louder as he blinked and blinked to clear the tears from his eye. His mind kept racing, kept seeing those dead bodies, replaying everything over and over. No escape. He had no escape.
Fuck!
He spun away from the view of Coney Island, hands lifting to grip his hair, doubling over.
“Scotty?”
He couldn’t even react to the panic in Vince’s voice as the other man rushed over, wrapping strong arms around him.
“Hey.” Vince cradled his face. “Look at me, look at me.”
But Scotty couldn’t see him, not with the tears in his eyes.
“Ssh. Come here.” Vince kissed his forehead. “You’re okay.” He hugged Scotty close, rubbing his back. “Breathe. Breathe for me.”
Scotty was trying, he was, but it felt as if his throat was locked off, trapping the air in his lungs. His chest was too tight, blood ringing in his ears. And he just wanted to drop to the floor.
“Fuck.” Vince dragged them back into the penthouse, over to the couch. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He kept repeating those words as he kissed Scotty all over his face, rocking them back and forth. “I’ve got you.”
Tears leaked from Scotty’s eyes and he buried his face in Vince’s neck, hiding his shame. Hiding his weakness. He was useless, wasn’t he? Vince was trying to figure out a way to get them out of this predicament and here Scotty was, crying, losing his shit.
Maybe he wasn’t meant to be with them. No wonder Zander had left. Maybe Scotty wasn’t supposed to have this life. He should have stayed back in Alabama and kept living the life he was accustomed to, the one he knew. That one didn’t have as many dangers. That one didn’t have so many things—people—he could lose.
“I’m here for you,” Vince whispered at his temple. “Whatever you need, I’ve got you.”
If it weren’t for him, Scotty might have folded in on himself a long time ago. But Vince refused to let him. He gave love generously, endlessly, and greedy Scotty gobbled it all up and kept going back for more. Vince was steadiness and comfort and care.
But what was Scotty? What did he offer?
What did Vince get from him?
He lifted his head, wiping the tears from his eyes as he parted his lips to ask, but a sound came at the door. They both stiffened, Vince releasing him to reach for his waistband, searching for a gun that wasn’t there because their kidnappers had taken it.
The door opened and someone filled the doorway and then stepped through.
Scotty gasped.
Vince made a sound.
