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“Hmm.” The Russian’s contemplative gaze traveled over to Scotty and then Vince before returning to Zander. “Then let’s get down to business, Zander.”
“Is that what this is about?” Vince asked with a scoff. “Business? You broke into our place, killed those men, and kidnapped us. You terrified our—terrified Scotty because of business?”
Zhirkov’s gaze shifted over to him. “Should there be another reason for terrifying your Scotty?”
Smug bastard. There was nothing Vince wanted more than to punch him in the face, but that would be an act of suicide, so he struggled to swallow the anger burning his chest. “I know who you are,” he shot back. “All of you.”
Zhirkov smiled and shrugged. “S’only right. We know who you are, Vince Hardin.”
“Enough,” Zander barked. “Don’t speak to him,” he told Zhirkov through gritted teeth. “You wanted my attention. You got it.”
“Maybe we changed our minds,” Israel Storm told him. “Maybe we should be having this discussion with the marshal here.” He nodded at Vince.
Vince scowled.
“We want the casino your man has out there in Jersey,” Zhirkov said. Seemed he and Israel were the only ones in the group doing the talking. Turner leaned against the nearby wall with his ankles crossed, looking bored, though something told Vince that was just an act. Derri looked like he was minutes away from losing his shit.
Vince couldn’t afford for that to happen. Zander and Derri were outgunned. Vince knew that, so Zander definitely had to know that. He had no clue what Zander had in the way of backup but that wouldn’t matter. They weren’t on their home turf.
“That’s why you took us, to force his hand?” Vince rolled his eyes. He knew about the casino. It was one of Murray DuBois’s biggest moneymakers and clearly Zander had inherited it. Why would he give that to Russians? Or to Israel Storm? “He’s not giving you the fucking casino. What else you got?”
Zhirkov chuckled, stepping in closer. Zander stiffened next to Vince while Vince tried not to feel as intimidated as he did when the Russian’s blue-green eyes bored into his.
“You know…” Zhirkov bit his bottom lip when he and Vince stood chest to chest. “You’re growing on me. I think I might like you.” He smelled sugar-sweet, like candy. Marshmallows, maybe. Whatever it was, it bordered—too fucking closely—on mouthwatering, bringing a distinct discomfort.
But to move away from him would broadcast a message Vince couldn’t afford. Not right then.
“Step back,” Zander warned the Russian, tone dark. “Right now.”
Zhirkov did with a chuckle, lifting both hands, palms out in mocking surrender as he licked his lips. He was a beautiful man, no denying that, but there was more than a hint of crazy swirling in his eyes. A whole lot of reckless danger that had Vince on guard and it had nothing to do with the tattoos wrapped around the other man’s throat.
“I told you before and I’m gonna tell you for the last time, I’m not handing over my casino or any of my other businesses to you people,” Zander said firmly as he slid a hand in Vince’s, thumb stroking, soothing. “I’m not about to reward you for scaring the fuck out of the?—”
“The men you love,” Israel finished for him with a gleam in his eyes. He shoved both hands into his pockets, a smug smile curving his full lips. He didn’t possess Zhirkov’s pretty boy features but he was still gorgeous with that dark skin and the air of danger that clung to him like the most carnal cologne. He was like Zander in that regard. “Tell us what else you won’t do for the men you love.”
26
Zander didn’t get the opportunity to truly experience the happiness and relief that flooded him when he finally had Vince and Scotty in his arms again. They were safe. They were solid and real. And still in danger. Now, he faced his enemies: Israel Storm and Dima Zhirkov. He didn’t know how he’d managed to appear on their radar or why they’d truly taken an interest in him, but he refused to allow them to terrify Vince and Scotty.
Mostly Scotty, who sat silently on the couch with his knees hugged to his chest, face pale. Zander wanted nothing more than to reassure him that everything would be alright, but he couldn’t. Not when he didn’t know the real reason for whatever was happening.
Next to him, Vince didn’t seem to give a fuck that he’d been kidnapped by two of the most powerful men in New York. He was going toe-to-toe with Israel and Dima, and Zander loved him for it even though it had him tense. He’d brought only Derri with him, because at the end of the day, Derri was the only person he trusted with his life. They might be in enemy territory, but Zander was far from helpless. He always had an ace up his sleeve and he’d already called it in. All he had to do now was stall.
He didn’t give a fuck how big and bad the men facing him were. He would do whatever he had to do to protect his family because that was who Vince and Scotty were to him.
“Tell us what else you won’t do for the men you love,” Israel goaded him.
Between him and Zhirkov, Zander judged Israel to be the bigger threat. Oh, Dima Zhirkov was crazy, but everybody knew that shit. Zander knew what to expect from the Russian. He’d never seen Israel in action, couldn’t imagine him relinquishing that tight grip he had on his control. Everything about him was calculated and methodical. Too cool. Too calm. He was a thinking man, and that more than anything else had Zander on alert.
“You wanted me in Brooklyn,” Zander addressed Israel. “Away from my own turf. Why?” Vince had gone stiff next to him, and Zander reached for him without looking. He placed his hand on the small of Vince’s back, applying subtle pressure as a silent message for him to hold his tongue and let Zander take the lead.
“Is it still your turf?” Israel smirked. “Last I heard, you’d given it all up to go hide out in fucking Alabama. New name and everything.”
They’d been keeping tabs on him for a long time, it seemed. That was the only way they could have known about Vince and Scotty. “You had someone inside my uncle’s organization.” That was no question. It was the only explanation. Fuck. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”
Scotty made a distressed sound.
Dima all but rolled his eyes. “If we wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have lived long enough to meet these two. We would have put you out of your misery the first day you rolled into Alabama. Before you bought that mechanic shop from Ed.”
