by Abigail Roux
Digger nodded.
“It wouldn’t be near the canal then, nor would it be near businesses or large thoroughfares,” Zane said.
Digger scratched his cheek with the large knife, then marked the approximate areas Zane had mentioned. “Also, most of the houses with no one living in them will still have markings on the sides.”
“What sort of markings?”
“A spray-painted X. Little markings in each quadrant. They were used when rescue crews went through the houses to show when they were there, which crew it was, what sort of dangers there were. And the body count.”
Zane nodded, wincing. He remembered Ty talking about the rescue efforts he and others had been involved in after Hurricane Katrina hit. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the horrors.
“Some of those houses still have their markings. Means the owners haven’t been able to return to rebuild. Or they ain’t coming back. We find a marked house with a vehicle near it, I guarandamntee you that’s our spot.”
“So we can find him,” Owen said. He was standing behind Digger’s chair, unable to sit still.
“We don’t even know if they have him,” Nick said. “If the Colombians got him first, he’s dead.”
“And if he got away, he’s sitting in a casino, drinking a cocktail in front of a security camera,” Zane said.
“In that case, our only avenue is to search for him here,” Liam said, tapping the table. “If he’s dead, we’re no use to him. And if he’s sitting somewhere safe, he’s no use to us.”
Nick tucked his gun into the back of his jeans. “So we go to the Lower Ninth Ward and split up.”
“No, the hell we will,” Owen growled. He pointed at Liam. “Last time we split up, this bastard ran away, Doc got shot, and Grady disappeared. We stay together.”
Nick studied him for a long moment and finally nodded. “We need a plan if we find the place. How do we take it?”
Zane gripped the back of a chair. “Shock and awe.”
“Care to explain?” Nick asked.
Zane nodded and locked eyes with Liam “I want it. Right now.”
Liam raised both eyebrows and sat forward. “Pardon?”
“Your jacket is armored and your boots are for riding. Where’s your bike?”
Ty worked the ropes at his wrists as Gaudet and his son argued, taking fast, shallow breaths, trying desperately to fake an allergic reaction.
“Hey!” he finally croaked. He shook his shoulders from side to side. “Get these ropes . . . off my chest . . . so I can fucking breathe!”
“The hell you say,” Shine growled. “Let him die, what’s the problem? We’re going to kill him anyway!”
Gaudet smacked Shine on the side of the head. “I need information before I can let him kick off. Where’s that doohickey Ava gave you?”
Ty groaned. A woman scorned was nothing to mess with. He’d remember that if he lived.
Shine began to dig in his pockets. “She found it in his room at the bar,” he said, pulling out one of the EpiPens.
“Shoot him with it,” Gaudet ordered.
“Oh hell no,” Ty gasped. He shook his head violently as Shine turned the cylinder over and frowned at it. “Might as well . . . let him loose . . . with a Ginsu!”
“You’re awfully particular for someone who’s dying.”
Shine put his hand on Ty’s shoulder and flicked the cap off the EpiPen cylinder. He pulled it back, preparing to stab it right into Ty’s chest.
“No, no, no!” Ty wheezed. “Jesus Christ!”
“What?”
“You can’t inject . . . adrenaline . . . right into my heart. You dumb fuck!”
Shine turned it over in his hand and glanced at his father, who rolled his eyes. “Let me have it. You got to take it out of the case.”
“I thought you just stab it in.”
“But that’s just the case, boy. Let me have it.” Gaudet took it from Shine and slid the EpiPen from its case.
“Blue end,” Ty told him.
“Shut up.”
“It ain’t a needle,” Shine muttered. “Let’s just give him a sack to breathe in.”
“His throat’s closing up.”
“So we put a hole in his throat and he can breathe again.”
“Instructions . . . on it!” Ty managed. “Flip the blue . . . jab the orange . . . hold it—”
“Shut up!” Gaudet turned it over and tapped it.
Ty took a deep, rasping breath.
“Fuck it, untie one of his hands,” Gaudet finally ordered.
“You sure about that?”
Gaudet nodded, and Shine pulled a large hunting knife from a sheath at his thigh. He waved the knife in Ty’s face. “Try anything, I’ll gut you.”
Ty nodded jerkily. Shine cut through the rope around his left wrist and stepped back. Gaudet handed him the EpiPen. He flipped the end and gripped it tight, raising it above his thigh to jam it in. But instead of his own thigh, he swung his arm out and jabbed the injector into Gaudet’s chest.
The man stumbled back, pawing at the EpiPen. Shine followed, taking his arm to steady him.
“Oh, that’s gonna do so many bad things to your heart,” Ty said as he began laughing. He reached across his lap to pull at the rope that bound his right hand.
Shine yanked the EpiPen out. He threw it to the ground and it shattered as it skidded across the floor. Gaudet grabbed at his chest, doubling over.
“He’s having a heart attack, Shine,” Ty said, his voice low and urgent. “Better get him out of here, Shine.”
Shine rounded on him, the knife clutched in his huge hand. “I’m gonna make you bleed, Beaumont.”
“They’ll bury me right beside your daddy, bubba!”
Shine hesitated, and behind him, Gaudet was taking deep breaths and clutching at his chest. He waved his hand at Shine, as if telling him to go ahead and kill Ty. Shine held the knife close to his body and gripped Ty’s shoulder, preparing to stick him, but Ty grabbed Shine’s biceps, locking his elbow as Shine pushed forward. He gritted his teeth and put every ounce of strength he had into keeping that knife at bay, but he hadn’t managed to loosen his other arm, his feet were still bound to the chair, and Shine was laughing at him, pushing the tip inexorably closer to Ty’s chest.
He didn’t have to push forward to hurt Ty. He could have sliced at Ty’s forearm to loosen his grip. He could have wrenched away and come from behind to slit his throat. He could have easily killed him in so many ways, but Shine continued to push against him instead, forcing Ty to fight for his life. Ty’s fingers worked frantically at the loose ropes on his other wrist. With his feet tied, he couldn’t get any leverage. Shine laughed. He was enjoying the slow march of death as Ty lost the battle.
The knife touched the material of Ty’s shirt and he shouted wordlessly, digging deep for more strength where he knew he would find none. Fighting for his life against a man who merely wanted to play with it.
The knife broke skin. Ty pushed back against the chair, desperate for more inches. His life didn’t flash before his eyes. His evil deeds didn’t come back to haunt him, nor did any of the good he’d done revisit him. He didn’t find added strength in thoughts of the future or memories of the past. He didn’t see his family, or his teammates, or the faces of men he’d comforted as they’d died. The only face he saw as the knife bit into him was Zane’s.
“Ty?”
Ty cried out again. He didn’t know where Zane’s voice had come from, but he pushed harder against Shine’s arm, desperate to hear it again.
“Zane!”
An engine revved somewhere close. Shine pulled back, his head shooting up at the sound.
Gaudet had finally recovered from the rush of epinephrine and adrenaline enough to hit Shine in the back. “Do him!”
The engine grew louder, drawing closer. Ty could hear it both outside the thin walls and in his ear. The ear bud Shine had missed was still there. It had been buzzing in Ty’s ear all this time, and now it w
as picking up the roaring of an angry motorcycle.
Ty craned his head and saw the rider through the dirty front window, barreling toward the house through a field of weeds and brush. It was an off-white cruiser with a hulking rider sheathed in black leather and a skullcap-style helmet, face covered with a pair of sunglasses and a black bandana with a white skull printed on it.
Ty caught his breath, staring out the window as the rider pointed a gun toward the house. Gaudet and Shine seemed to be trying to decide between fight and flight. “Its rider was named Death,” Ty told them, beginning to smile. Gunshots shattered the hinges and panels of the rickety front door and continued to rain down on the occupants of the room. “And Hell followed with him!” Ty shouted as both men dove to the floor, covering their heads.
Splinters and shards of bullets flew through the air. Shine and his father both scrambled to the corners of the room, covering themselves. Ty brought his hand up to shield his eyes as the motorcycle burst through the ruined door, screaming into the room and tearing up the floorboards and remnants of carpet as it went. The rider put a foot down and caused the back wheel of the motorcycle to slide around, chewing up the wood and shooting shrapnel at the men cowering on the floor.
Ty gaped at the reflective surface of the sunglasses. The rider tossed him a small knife—Zane, it was Zane—and Ty barely managed to overcome his shock to catch it. He sliced through his ropes and struggled out of the chair. Zane held his gun up and ejected the empty magazine onto the floor. He’d used all his ammunition busting through the door and had nothing left to finish the job.
Gaudet and Shine scrambled for their weapons. Ty lunged forward, taking Zane’s hand and swinging onto the back of the bike.
He held on tight and pressed his face into the man’s back as the motorcycle took off and darted out of the house.
Gunshots chased them, but the motorcycle was too fast for their pursuers. Ty’s grip tightened, his hand clutching at the edges of the leather jacket, the same black leather jacket he’d given Zane years ago.
They took several twists and turns through the ruin of the neighborhood, then the bike slowed and Ty was able to lift his head. Soon they reached an empty intersection, and Ty saw the men of Sidewinder converging ahead.
The motorcycle pulled to a stop beside a nondescript gray van and an old Cutlass sedan, where the other men were gathered, armed and ready.
Ty rested his head against Zane’s back, breathing hard and still shaking with adrenaline. He nodded at the others, who simply stood there and grinned.
Zane reached up and pulled the bandana down. Ty tilted sideways to pull Zane’s sunglasses off, then patted his cheek. Zane nodded and turned his head away without saying a word.
The others came closer, all of them grinning like fools.
“Wicked jailbreak, Garrett,” Nick said.
“That was some shit right there,” Digger shouted, and he held his fist up for Zane to bump it. Even Owen offered him a slap on the shoulder.
Nick took Ty’s arm and helped him off the back of the bike. “You okay?”
“Pretty much. Kelly?”
“In surgery. We don’t know anything, we had to leave him.”
Ty swallowed hard as relief flooded him. Behind Nick, Liam stood with Ava near the van. She was tied up, a bandana around her mouth to keep her quiet. Ty looked back at Nick.
“We were going to trade her for you if we had to. Zane was searching when he heard you.”
Ty stepped away, turning to meet Zane’s eyes. Zane stared at him, his face as impassive as the carved angels in St. Louis Cemetery. Ty wanted to say so many things to him, but they didn’t have time. And from Zane’s expression, he didn’t want to hear them anyway.
Ty walked over to Liam and Ava instead. Ava flinched from him when he reached up to take the bandana out of her mouth, and Ty belatedly saw the bruise forming on her cheekbone. “It’s okay,” he said.
She glared at him as he pulled the bandana down.
“Did you call him?” Ty asked, voice pitched low.
She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
Before she could explain, Ty stuffed the bandana back in. She thrashed her head, but Liam held her still as Ty tightened it and silenced her. Then he turned on Liam, who grinned and patted him on the shoulder.
“That bruise your handiwork?”
Liam rolled his eyes. “She grassed us out. And she may still have got the doc killed. So don’t cry to me, Argentina, she got what she deserved.”
He moved to pass Ty, but Ty stopped him with a hand on his chest. “We all get what we deserve,” Ty whispered in his ear.
Liam cocked his head, mere inches from his face. Then he sniffed and pushed past him. Ty took Ava by the arm and pulled her with him, pointing in the direction of the house he’d been held at. “Your daddy is that way. Start walking.”
Her dark eyes glared at him, but she jutted her chin out and started off down the crumbling road without looking back.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Nick asked.
Ty nodded. “Keeping her around would be like trying to keep a raccoon in a cage. You’ll end up bloody. With rabies.”
Nick chuckled and climbed into the van. Ty looked to Zane again, feeling his chest growing tighter. Liam stepped up to Zane, breaking the eye contact between them before Ty could say anything. He held up a hand, grasping Zane’s and pulling in closer to hug him. “You’ll do all right, mate! Bloody hell!”
Ty’s attention was still on Zane when Liam turned back to him. Liam gave him a shove. “He deserves a bit more than your usual rescue blowjob, yeah?”
Ty tore his eyes away from Zane.
Liam grinned widely. “You don’t give it to him, darling, I sure as hell will.”
Ty swung at him before he’d thought it through, before it registered that Liam’s words had made him angry. Possessive. Jealous as hell. His punch didn’t land flush, though, because Liam leaned away and blocked Ty’s hand. He wrapped Ty’s arm up and twisted it, pulling Ty sideways toward him.
Ty grunted and arched his back as Liam torqued his arm and shoulder. Liam put his lips to Ty’s ear, and when he spoke it was in whispered Russian. “Now, now, darling, wouldn’t want you getting hurt in a fight for a man you’ve already lost.”
Ty managed to land a jab to his midsection before Liam shoved him away as if Ty were some untrained drunken brawler.
Liam waved a hand at Zane. “Now give me back my motorbike before I knock you off it.”
Zane sat in the passenger seat of the van as Digger drove. He didn’t know where Sidewinder had found the various vehicles they’d driven to the Ninth Ward, only that Owen claimed they had “permanently borrowed” the van from the rental place near the French Quarter. He didn’t care. His mind was roiling now that they’d pulled off the rescue.
He kept seeing Ty tied down to that chair, at the mercy of a large hunting knife wielded by an even larger man. He kept hearing Ty’s desperate cry of “Zane!” ringing in his ears. He’d forgotten all the anger, all the hurt and humiliation, forgiven it in a heartbeat when he’d thought Ty might be taken from him.
But now it was all flooding back, and the way Ty stared at him, his eyes flat and lifeless, his jaw set in a hard line, made Zane cold all over. They couldn’t even say they were back at square one, because now there was so much betrayal and anger between them, Zane could feel the chasm widening.
Nick’s words echoed in Zane’s ears. What the hell kind of person had Ty been that even Nick was afraid of him?
“Who’s got a phone?” Ty asked. He was sitting in the middle of the bench seat, between Owen and Nick.
Zane shifted in his seat to look back at him. “Who are you calling?”
Ty cleared his throat, barely meeting Zane’s eyes. “Burns. Even he can’t save my job now, but at least he can get us out.”
Zane locked eyes with him, knowing what that would mean, knowing that a life without his job, without a purpose, was one of Ty’s biggest fears. Ni
ck’s warning echoed again. What would Ty turn into without a purpose, without that anchor? He nodded, though. It was their last resort.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Nick asked.
Ty’s jaw tightened. “This is out of hand.”
“But—”
“They blew a cat at me!” Ty shouted. “Someone give me your phone!”
Zane handed his to Ty. “Put it on speaker,” he requested.
“You promise you won’t say anything to him?” Ty asked.
“Ty.”
“Swear to me, Garrett.”
“Fine, whatever, I pinky swear, just call him.”
“I feel like I missed an episode of a television show here,” Owen said.
“Blew a cat at you?” Nick asked, though he sounded like he didn’t really want the answer.
Ty muttered that he’d explain later and dialed Richard Burns’s number. He pressed the speaker button and held the phone out, leaning forward.
“Richard Burns.”
“It’s Grady.”
“Happy Easter, kiddo. How’s your dad?”
Ty closed his eyes. “I— I’ve gotten into something deep, I need help.”
Burns was silent a few breaths. “Go on.”
“I’m in New Orleans.”
“What?”
“Garrett’s with me. So are the Sidewinder boys.”
“What the hell, Tyler?”
“It’s worse. Liam Bell is here with a pink slip with our names on it. The Vega cartel has sniffed us both out, and someone somewhere told them we’d be here this weekend.”
They heard him moving, closing a door and coughing. “How did anyone know you’d be there? Why are you there?”
“It was last minute, we didn’t even know we’d be here.”
“You have a mole, someone on you.”
“Yes sir, but that’s not my concern right now. The police commander here has me pegged as a CI that gave him fits five years ago; he’s trying to kill me. He’s got us locked down. The agent we tried to contact for extraction was dirty. I don’t . . . we can’t get out.”
Burns didn’t respond for a tense moment. Ty licked his lips, meeting Zane’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Grady,” Burns finally said, his voice stern and professional. “I can’t help you.”
