Cut and Run 09 Crash & Burn (10 page)

“If there is, we need to get you upstairs, out of sight. Can you manage it?”

Nick nodded, wincing. Ty and Zane worked together to get him off the ground again, Nick cursing them both the entire way to his feet.

“One of you puts me in a fireman’s carry, I’m kicking your ass,” Nick threatened as he slung an arm over each of their shoulders. Just doing that seemed to hurt him, though, because he cried out and tried to pull away the arm he had over Ty’s shoulders.

“You couldn’t kick a puppy right now,” Zane told him, and once they got to the bottom of the narrow stairwell, Ty was forced to let Zane take over. He followed up the steps, watching as Zane took on Nick’s weight and Nick grew weaker with each step.

How long had he been out there, injured and trying to get to help? He’d been AWOL for nearing two weeks as far as they had determined. Had he been with Liam Bell all that time? Had he been a prisoner? Who the
hell
could keep Nick a prisoner by himself for almost two weeks? Even Liam wasn’t that good. And how had he wound up in Baltimore? Ty was beyond confused, but he wasn’t willing to ask Nick questions when he was in this shape. They just needed to get some fluids into him and keep him warm and safe until Kelly could get here.

Ty took up Nick’s other arm when they reached the first landing. The guest bed was another flight up, and Nick sure as hell wasn’t going to be making it up there. They carried him to their bedroom instead, helping him out of what remained of his bloody shirt before laying him on their bed. Ty rounded the end and sat next to Nick, taking his hand. Nick grasped his fingers like a lifeline, like he’d done so many times in the past, and Ty fought the tightness in his throat as he patted Nick’s hand.

He could feel Zane’s eyes on him, and then Zane placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “I’m going to go call the others, okay? See if I can catch them. They should be here for this, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, good.” Ty glanced up at Zane. His eyes were soft with concern, and his brow was furrowed. He seemed to understand what this meant for Ty, to have Nick here and safe, to know where he’d been and to be able to physically comfort him. Ty gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, Zane.”

Zane nodded, then left the room with his phone in hand, closing the door behind him.

Ty stared after him for long seconds, until Nick rolled his head to the side and drew Ty’s attention back. He was looking at the closed door as well, green eyes still full of sorrow, sunburned face creased with worry lines.

“You two got married,” he said.

The word brought a smile to Ty’s lips, but it faded fast. He nodded. “You got my messages?”

“No.” Nick jerked his chin toward Ty’s finger. “I saw the rings. I like them. Like the ink.”

“Thanks,” Ty said, but he barely got the word out.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Nick eyes locked with Ty’s, and they were glistening, but not quite tearing up. “I should have been there. I would have been there, Tyler.”

“Hey.” Ty tapped Nick’s cheek with two fingers. He left bloody fingerprints behind and wiped them off with a corner of the sheets. “I understand there may have been some extenuating circumstances going on here, so . . .”

Nick grabbed Ty’s hand with surprising speed, his eyes going hard. “The cartel’s coming, Ty,” he hissed.

“We know. Irish, just wait ’til you’re better, okay? It can wait.”

“No,” Nick insisted, squeezing Ty’s hand tighter. “They’re coming after the two of you.”

“Is that what you were doing with Liam?” Ty asked, despite telling himself not to interrogate his friend. “A cartel thing? How’d you end up with him? And how’d you manage to kill him wounded? I mean, I know you’re good and all, but—”

“I didn’t. Didn’t kill him.”

“But you said you did.”

“No.” Nick’s eyes went distant for a moment. “He got burned by the NIA, came to me for help.
Forced
me to help. He needed evidence . . . couldn’t get it alone.”

“Why’d he come to you?”

“Leverage. And you have to know why I did it, okay?”

“Doesn’t matter, Irish, it’s okay.” Ty’s heart sped up at the mere thought of Nick being forced into working with a man like Liam. What the hell had Liam held over him? It couldn’t have been just brute force; Nick wouldn’t have taken that for two weeks.

“No, I need you to know before . . . why I did it.” Nick’s eyes fell closed, and his body was beginning to relax. It seemed he was coming to the end of his energy, but was refusing to give in to it until he got out whatever he was trying to say.

Ty put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Why you did what?”

Nick opened his eyes and stared at Ty, brow furrowing. “Why I killed him.”

“But you just said you didn’t kill him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand, Irish. You need to sleep.”

“No.”

“Okay. Then you need to slow your mind and try to make some sense for me.”

Nick closed his eyes again and took a shallow, shaky breath. “You have to know why they’re coming for you. For Zane. You have to know.”

“Are you saying
you
know? You can tell me?”

“Burns,” Nick said, his voice lowering even more. Ty couldn’t tell if his mind was wandering or if he was just confused by the conversation now. Ty was sure as hell confused, anyway. There was no telling how much blood Nick had lost, and that made your mind do odd things. Nick continued, though, undaunted by Ty’s quiet attempts to calm him. “They’re coming because of Burns. Burns did this.”

“Irish, we had this fight.”

“No,” Nick barked, and he winced as he moved to sit up. Ty pressed him back to the bed, holding him by one shoulder. That was all the force it took to keep him down. “Burns was using you. You and Garrett. He started this war. He’s not who you thought he was.”

Ty shook his head and lurched off the bed, pacing away before his hands could start to shake. “The cartel killed him, Nick. How can you possibly believe he was working with them?”

“He wasn’t.” Nick swallowed hard, closing his eyes like he was gearing up the last of his energy. “He was stealing from them.”

“What?”

“Using Garrett to do it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Did Liam tell you this bullshit?”

“Using you to clean up his messes,” Nick continued mercilessly.

“No.”

“And Ty . . . you and Garrett were his last mess. He was coming for you next. For you both.”

Ty whirled, trying to reconcile what his oldest and most trusted friend was telling him about a man he’d known since birth. “You’re saying Dick Burns was going to kill me and Zane?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

“Other agencies were onto him, he was preparing for a clean break. You were the last pieces on the board who could take him out legally; he needed you both to take the fall.”

“Bullshit!”

“Ty.”

“No!”

Nick swallowed hard.

“He was like family to me!” Ty shouted, jabbing a finger at Nick. “He wouldn’t do what you’re accusing him of. Whatever evidence you’ve got has been . . . doctored, or . . .”

“No.”

“Yes! Burns wasn’t dirty! This is someone trying to cover shit up, that’s all it is. Maybe the cartel is trying to loosen up the choke hold in Miami, maybe this is all the NIA and they need a fall guy.” Ty ran both hands through his hair. “You know what? It might even just be Liam Bell playing with you! I don’t care what it is; all I know is they killed Dick and it won’t end until I put my fucking knife through de la Vega’s eye.”

“Ty,” Nick whispered, and he looked sort of sick when Ty met his eyes. “The cartel didn’t put the hit on Burns.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t de la Vega. It was the NIA.”

Ty pulled up short, his chest twisting at the mere thought. “The NIA ordered Burns killed? How do you know that?”

“Because I was the one they pulled to do it.”

“You . . .” Ty narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“When you sent me home, to Suitland with that message. The NIA intercepted me. That was the whole reason they ordered you to tap someone for that delivery.”

“What the hell . . . that . . . doesn’t . . .” Ty covered his eyes with his hands. “No, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“I killed him, Ty.”

Ty lowered his hands to stare at the man in his bed. Nick was watching him warily, visibly struggling for breaths. Ty stared for so long he eventually registered the ticking of the clock on the bedside table as time creaked by. “What?” he finally asked, low and dangerous.

“I killed him. I broke his neck.” Nick raised his right hand and turned it over. It was trembling so violently that Ty could see it from where he stood. “Did it right-handed, so no one would recognize it as my work.”

Ty’s mind and pulse were both racing, and there was an odd buzzing in his ear he couldn’t quite place. “What are you telling me?” he asked carefully. “You killed Richard Burns?”

Nick still held Ty’s gaze, but he was shifting his shoulders like he might be preparing to defend himself. “It was either him or you.”

The continued calm of Nick’s exhausted voice was beginning to make Ty’s blood boil. He rounded the end of the bed, his fists clenching.

Nick deflated as if it took too much energy to be on guard and talk at the same time. “They showed me everything they had on him. He was dirty, Six, and you were next on his hit list. I accepted the orders to save you. You and Zane.”

“You killed Burns?” Ty shouted. He lunged toward the bed just as the door burst open and Zane grabbed him around the waist. Ty fought as Zane lifted him off his feet and started dragging him toward the hallway. “He killed him, Zane!” Ty shouted as he struggled. “He killed Burns!”

Zane shoved him out of the room and slammed the door behind them. The last thing Ty saw was Nick turning his head away as Ty railed.

Nick woke slowly, like he was dragging his consciousness behind him through the shifting sands of a desert. He’d lost a lot more blood than he’d imagined he would on the trek to Ty’s row house. He almost hadn’t made it there.

A cold dread settled into his chest when he realized he was lying awake with his eyes still closed. He forced them open, shocked by how bright everything was. Weak moonlight streamed through the curtains. His limbs were heavy, almost numb. He didn’t even try to move them. He did roll his head to the side, though, to check the door.

A man was hunched over the side of the bed, sitting in a chair with his head pillowed on his arms on the mattress. Nick squeezed one eye closed to try to focus on him.

“Ozone,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Owen jerked up, blinking away the sleep and focusing on Nick, hand on the gun at his belt. “Hey,” he said, relaxing and sounding a little surprised to be awake. Owen had always woken like that, though, moving before his brain registered awareness. “You feel okay? You lost a lot of blood, man.”

Nick nodded. “I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah,” Owen whispered, almost as if he hadn’t intended to say it. “Ty says you murdered Richard Burns.”

Nick blinked at the ceiling for a few seconds before nodding curtly. “Murdered” was a strong word, coming from Ty.

Nick lifted his hand to wipe it across his face, but the motion came to an abrupt halt with a clang and a jerk. He stared at the handcuff around his wrist for a long time.

“I tried to talk to him down,” Owen said, voice pitched low. He leaned closer and took Nick’s hand, checking that the cuff wasn’t too tight. His fingers were like ice against Nick’s palm. He met Nick’s eyes and held on to his hand, squeezing. “He’s not listening to anyone, though, not even Garrett.”

“Ty did this?” Nick gasped with another jerk at the handcuff.

Owen nodded sorrowfully. “He hasn’t called it in yet. But he’s going to. Soon. As soon as he decides whose jurisdiction it falls under.”

Something fluttered in Nick’s chest and then settled, heavy like an anchor, dragging at his heart. He’d known Ty would react badly, of course he had. But he’d expected more than a few minutes to plead his case before Ty shut him down. He sure as hell hadn’t expected to be handcuffed to the fucking bed. Now he didn’t feel so bad for bleeding all over their fancy memory foam mattress.

“How long was I out?” Nick asked after a few moments of trying to regain his composure. His words still came out shaky.

“Good part of the night.”

“Is Doc here?”

“Not yet, but he’s on his way. His flight was delayed.”

“He can’t see this, Johns. He can’t.”

“You want me to keep Doc out of here when he knows you’re hurt?” Owen smiled ruefully. “I’m your brother, dude, and I love you. But I’m not suicidal.”

Nick snorted, wincing as something in his side pulled. He craned his head, trying to get a look at the wound. “Did someone stitch me up?”

Owen pressed his lips together and frowned. “Digger.”

“
What
?”

Owen raised a hand to fend off Nick’s panic. “You were bleeding a lot, man. We had to close it up.”

“And you let
Digger
do it? Oh my God, what did he use? It’s not fishing line again, is it?”

“I don’t know, it was in his go bag. And it was . . . green.”

“Oh Jesus, it’s probably alligator sinew or something, Johns! Get it out!”