Cut and Run 07 Touch & Geaux (33 page)

“What sort of job?”

Ty opened his eyes as the buzzing in his ear continued. He was breathless, but that was good. It gave his words an element of truth, made it harder to detect a lie. “I hunt vampires.”

Gaudet stared for a few seconds before straightening with a loud sigh. “Vampires.”

“You have a very serious vampire problem here.”

Gaudet rolled his eyes and scrubbed at one cheek. He looked at his son. “Shine? Make him sorry for pulling my leg.”

The big man began to wrap a strip of cloth around his knuckles.

“No, Shine,” Ty groaned. He shook his head. “Down boy.”

Shine began to laugh. “Boy, you got bad gris-gris sticking to you. Almost like you’re cursed.”

“That was you, huh?” Shine nodded and Ty chuckled, even more breathless and hoarse than before. “Is this a bad time to talk about how I fucked your sister?”

Shine backhanded him hard enough to tilt the chair.

Gaudet sneered. “You got a smart mouth on you, boy. Always did. Shine’ll fix that right up, though.”

“He better hurry,” Ty managed to say. He gulped for air, trying to force himself to hyperventilate. He had to be convincing.

Gaudet bent in front of him, narrowing his eyes. He waved at Shine. “He’s having one of those damn allergy attacks,” he said, disgusted. “I told you not to use that damn powder, boy, now he’s gonna die before he can talk!”

“How in the hell are we supposed to search an entire neighborhood of ruined houses?” Owen hissed.

Zane pulled out a top shelf bottle of whiskey and didn’t offer to share.

Nick sat beside him and leaned close so no one else would hear him. “You want to go easy on the hooch, Garrett?”

“What’s it to you?” Zane whispered. He stared at the tabletop, unable to get Ty’s face out of his mind.

“You’re sitting here drinking when Ty’s in trouble. That doesn’t seem like the Zane Garrett I met.”

“That man died last night.”

“I get it,” Nick said. “He lied to you.”

Zane glanced at him then looked away quickly. The last person he wanted to talk to about this with was Nick O’Flaherty. Hell, the man was probably standing in line waiting for Ty to be single.

“You know what, Zane, he lied to us too. In fact, I don’t know a single person Ty hasn’t lied to, including himself.”

Zane huffed and took another drink of whiskey. “You must be one hell of a loyal bastard.”

“He’s earned it.”

“Has he? Has he really earned that from you, O’Flaherty? Because I thought he’d earned it from me too, and then I found out the truth. I found out he uses things like love and loyalty as tools.”

“You have no idea what love and loyalty mean to him if that’s what you really believe.”

“No?” Zane took a gulp of whiskey. “Why don’t you educate me then, O’Flaherty, because you know him so fucking well.”

“I know Ty’s not all there,” Nick said, tapping his temple with a finger. “He has always been a step away from the wrong path. One screw comes loose, and he’s gone. The only thing keeps him on the side of the righteous is his loyalty. His sense of purpose. You take that from him? And you’re looking into the eyes of a monster.”

Zane glanced at Nick, surprised by how hard the words hit him.

“So you question his motives. You question his tactics. But you be damn sure you know what you’re doing before you question his loyalty.”

“Two days ago, I was trying to decide how to ask him to marry me,” Zane whispered. “Tonight I’m trying to figure out if I can even love someone like him.”

Nick was silent for a long while, long enough for Zane to drain his glass. Then he leaned closer. “You ask yourself if you’re in love. You’re not asking the right question.”

Zane laughed bitterly. “What’s the right question?”

Nick pressed a finger onto the table. “Would you bust him out of prison?”

“No,” Zane answered immediately.

Nick sat back, eyebrows climbing high. “No?”

“No,” Zane said again. He poured another glass, gritting his teeth. “I wouldn’t let him make it to a cell.”

“How is that not enough?”

Zane glared. “Look, I know you’re the team mother or whatever, but stop. I’m not part of your team.”

Nick tilted his head. “You are now. And I know if Ty were here, he wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Zane slammed a hand on the table and grabbed Nick’s shirt collar. “Well Ty’s not here!”

Nick didn’t retaliate or try to break his hold. He just put a hand on Zane’s shoulder. “So help me find him. And I’ll help you break him out of jail.”

Zane wanted to lash out, to shout again or to shove him away. But it was nearly impossible to remain angry and sullen under Nick’s calming influence. Besides, Ty needed them. He let go of Nick’s shirt and sat back. Nick reached slowly for the bottle, giving Zane a chance to stop him; Zane shook his head and stood up, running both hands through his hair. “Just put it where I can’t find it.”

Liam cleared his throat loudly. “Now that
that
crisis has passed, can we focus here?”

Zane glowered at him, but Liam merely leered in return.

“Okay, we can narrow it down,” Digger said. He took out his combat knife and gouged a deep line across the table. “This is the canal. When the levees broke, the barges in the canal and the storm surge took out most of the houses alongside it. What’s left in these first few blocks,” he said, slashing the table into a grid, “is nothing but empty lots or rebuilt homes.”

Zane studied the grid closer. “So we
can
narrow it down.”

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.