Sticks and Stones (8 page)

Zane took a deep breath of the clean air and gave him a smile. “Thanks,” he said with a nod.

Deuce waved him off. “Don’t let Dad get to you,” he advised. “If you can deal with Ty, Dad should be a cakewalk for you.”

“I don’t care about offending Ty,” Zane answered. “Although I do have to work with him, so I try not to piss him off too badly.”

“A fair plan. And Dad isn’t easily offended,” Deuce told him with a smile. “What are you worried he knows about?” he asked curiously.

“I don’t exactly have the best track record in the Bureau,” Zane said quietly as he looked around at the trees.

“You’re still in it, though, and I know Ty doesn’t rate second-hand partners,” Deuce countered.

Zane would have answered in the affirmative, but he wasn’t quite sure if he really fit the bill. “I guess I’m a little off balance,” he said vaguely, gesturing to the surroundings.

“High altitudes will do that,” Deuce replied, the sarcasm practically dripping from the words.

“You talk like him,” Zane said wryly, hearing the smartass echo in Deuce’s voice that so reminded him of Ty.

“How’s that?” Deuce asked in interest.

“That tone of voice,” Zane said, fixing his eyes intently on Deuce. “Ty sounds like that all the time. Droll. Like he’s humoring me.”

Deuce laughed. “I apologize,” he offered with an open, honest grin.

Zane’s smile was more genuine this time. “I’d say you don’t know how annoying that can be, but….” Deuce laughed harder as the screen door creaked behind them.

“We’re gonna have to start slipping Dad Valium or something,” Ty muttered as he joined them. He handed Deuce a thick cigar that he’d had hidden in his pocket.

“Cuban?” Deuce asked in delight.

“Cuban,” Ty answered with a nod as Deuce slid the cigar under his nose and sniffed it.

Zane frowned. “Where’s mine?”

“You haven’t earned illegal Cubans yet,” Ty informed him seriously.

“Earned?” Zane asked, voice rising toward the end. He looked at Deuce and jerked his thumb toward Ty. “See? This is what I deal with almost every day.” He sniffed. “Earned,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I thought acting as a human paintball shield qualified you for illegal Cubans?” Deuce asked Ty in an innocent voice. Ty began snickering before he’d even finished speaking.

Zane rolled his eyes. “I still have bruises,” he said plaintively.

“Boo hoo,” Ty offered. “You smoke too much for cigars,” he reasoned.

Zane shrugged at Ty’s logic. He was used to it by now. “Better hope no one with a grudge catches you with one of those.”

“Everyone has a grudge,” Ty told him with a smirk.

“My brother has no morals,” Deuce sang lightly, and he cackled gleefully as he slid the cigar he’d been given into his pocket.

Ty grunted at him. “I’m running low, and Charlie’s getting discharged in three months, so enjoy it while it lasts,” he told Deuce in a disgruntled growl.

“You’ll just have to find some other shady character at Gitmo,” Deuce counseled seriously. “I’m gonna go unpack some things and sit with Grandpa before he gets the shovel out,” he added with a smirk. He gave Ty a pat on the arm before walking away, leaving them alone in the cold, fresh air.

“Shovel?” Zane questioned.

Ty shook his head. “Later,” he promised.

Zane shifted his weight and tried to let the tension from breakfast go as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. He took in the sun rising above the trees, and there was a full minute of quiet before he spoke. “Your family is… nice,” he said with difficulty.

That caused Ty to start laughing. Hard.

S
OON
enough, Ty was making his way around the house toward his Bronco to retrieve the bags of camping equipment they’d brought with them. Zane remained in the back yard for a moment, finishing his cigarette in the cool, crisp air and looking around at the peaceful surroundings. For some reason, he couldn’t imagine Ty having grown up here.

His lips twitched. In the barn, maybe.

As he joined Ty at the truck, Zane caught sight of Chester sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, eyeing them silently. He also saw that the old man now held the aforementioned shovel across his thighs as he rocked.

Zane leaned over toward Ty. “Is that
the
shovel?”

Ty hefted a bag out of the back of the Bronco and glanced up at the porch. “Yep,” he said with a smile. “He sleeps with it, too, so don’t go sneaking around at night.”

Zane took one of the bags. “He sleeps with it,” he repeated.

Ty hummed affirmatively. “Not sure where he keeps it, but I can tell you with certainty that he wakes up swinging. He goes everywhere with it.” He pointed to the old blue and white Ford Ranger that had a gun rack mounted in the back window. “When he drives, there’s a cane and his shovel in that thing.”

“It’s not
that
weird. I sleep with a gun,” Zane said with a shrug, though he was bemused. “You used to sleep with any number of weapons. Why not a shovel?” He paused and bit his lip. “What kind of damage can he do with that thing?”

“Broke my nose when I was fifteen,” Ty answered with a fond smile. “He can hit a snake from ten yards away. Moving target’s iffy since his eyesight started going,” he added seriously.

Zane couldn’t stop the laugh. “Broke your nose? What were you doing?”

“Sneaking in,” Ty said unashamedly as he pulled out another heavy pack and thumped it on the ground. “Me and Deuce. I was on point that night. Turned the corner and
bang
!” he said as he waved his hand in front of his face.

Zane snickered. “After curfew,” he said knowingly.

“You bet,” Ty said with a nod. He looked over to the house and smiled at his grandfather, who was rocking contentedly, the shovel held loosely in his fingers. “Grandpa fought in the Pacific Theater in World War Two,” he told Zane in a low voice. “Grandma always said he came home with a shovel and never put it away.” He glanced at Zane and shrugged. “On the Pacific islands, sometimes a shovel was a Marine’s only defense from enemy fire. Dug for your life,” he explained. “We always figured something broke up there,” he said with a tap to his temple. “The shovel made him feel… whole.”

Zane nodded slowly as he picked up one of the bags and hung it on his right arm before picking up another. “It’s great that you still have him.”

“He’s still here most of the time,” Ty responded with a sigh. “Sometimes I think he’s putting on just so he don’t have to deal with us,” he added with a smirk.

“Like I haven’t seen that before,” Zane said, nudging Ty in the ribs with this elbow.

“I don’t play at crazy,” Ty warned with a smirk he couldn’t quite hide. He reached into the Bronco and dragged out one last bag, throwing it over his shoulder. Zane fixed a look of disbelief on his partner. “What?” Ty asked angelically as he picked up the first bag and began heading for the house.

“You don’t play at being an asshole either,” Zane informed him as he followed him.

“No, I don’t,” Ty agreed happily as he tromped across the yard with the bags.

“Oh, the things I could say,” Zane muttered, reminding himself Ty’s family was around.

“What was that?” Ty asked with a look over his shoulder. He was grinning widely, his hazel eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“You heard me,” Zane drawled, his heart skipping a beat or two. Ty was rarely in this mood lately. Not since New York, in fact. Ty winked at him and thumped up the steps.

“Hey, sonny,” Chester said to him as he rocked. “How far’s the trek this time?”

“Too far for you, old man,” Ty grunted with a smirk.

“Damn straight,” Chester said happily as he looked back out at the mountain and patted his shovel lovingly.

“Maybe I’ll stay here and keep him company,” Zane suggested. “He can protect me from the snakes.”

“Ain’t no snakes this time of year,” Chester scoffed. “Damn fool federal agents,” he muttered sorrowfully with a shake of his head.

Zane chuckled. “Sorry. There’s snakes year-round in Texas.”

“Garrett,” Ty warned under his breath, shaking his head.

“Does this look like Texas to you, son?” Chester asked irritably. He easily picked up the weighty shovel with one gnarled hand and waved it in Zane’s direction.

“No, sir,” Zane answered smartly, stepping a bit behind Ty. “I’ll be sure to pay better attention.”

“Smartass,” Chester muttered as he returned his attention back to the view and began rocking again.

Ty reached behind him and patted Zane’s hip, urging him to get inside as they sidestepped past. Zane cleared his throat as he allowed Ty to shuffle him inside. Ty just shook his head again and dropped the heavy bags inside the living room. “Don’t piss him off,” he warned in a low voice as he headed for the kitchen.

“I think he puts on being pissed off to keep you in line.”

“It works,” Ty returned immediately.

Zane chuckled, trying to keep it quiet. “Wow,” he observed.

“What?” Ty asked defensively.

“It just explains so much about you.”

Ty turned to look at him, circling the kitchen table warily. “How?” he asked in confusion.

Zane braced both hands on the tabletop and leaned toward him. “It’s not just you. Your whole family’s cracked, but somehow, you all make it work. That’s so unfair.” A hand slapped him hard on the back of the head just as he finished speaking. “Ow!” His hand flew up to rub the sore spot.

Mara whisked past with a bushel of apples on her hip. “Be nice,” she chastised distractedly.

“It was a compliment!” Zane protested as Ty laughed.

“I know bullshit when I hear it, kiddo. I raised that one,” Mara told him with a jerk of her thumb at Ty as she plunked the apples down on the table. “Get out of my kitchen or help me,” she ordered as she wiped her hands on her apron.

Ty went to the nearest cabinet and opened it, extracted a white tub labeled “Flour” from the highest shelf, and set it on the nearest counter. He gave his mom a kiss on the cheek and then promptly headed for the door. That was apparently all the help she’d get.

Zane trailed after Ty into the living room. Ty flopped onto the couch and looked at him critically. “Shut up,” Zane said as he sat opposite him in an armchair.

“You really think I’m crazy?” Ty asked him curiously.

“Crazy, yes. Cuckoo off your rocker, no. There’s a difference,” Zane answered. “Ask your brother,” he tacked on. Ty raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ask your brother what?” Deuce called as he thumped down the stairs into the living room. He had changed clothes into something more appropriate for the mountains rather than driving from Philadelphia in a Lexus.

“Whether I’m crazy,” Ty answered as he leaned back and slumped into the soft cushions.

“Completely certifiable,” Deuce provided without looking at either of them as he examined a bowl full of peanuts on the coffee table.

“There’s a difference between crazy and cuckoo off your rocker,” Zane repeated.

“That’s true,” Deuce agreed as he looked up at Ty and nodded. “Are these Dad’s?” he whispered as he pointed at the peanuts. Ty merely nodded, not looking away from Deuce. Zane glanced between the two, interested in watching them interact. There didn’t appear to be any rivalry. In fact, they seemed to be truly at ease with each other. Deuce deflated a little and abandoned the peanuts. He sat in the old wooden rocking chair near the fireplace and sighed heavily.

“Zane thinks we’re all crazy,” Ty told him with a smirk.

Deuce was nodding even before Ty finished speaking. “Right on, brother,” he said to Zane as he held his hand up in a fist and then smacked it down on the arm of the rocking chair.

“See?” Zane shrugged. “I said it was a compliment. Deuce understands.”

“I wouldn’t call it a compliment,” Deuce argued. “Doesn’t mean it ain’t true!” he added cheerfully.

Zane couldn’t help but laugh and relax a little into the armchair. “Refreshing.”

Deuce cocked his head and studied Zane. He looked remarkably like Ty when he did it. The whole family, even Chester, was capable of the same expression, like they knew something about you and didn’t plan on telling. The longer Deuce peered at him, the more Zane wondered what was up. “Something on your mind, Deuce?”

“Not usually,” Deuce responded with a grin. “I’m just sort of curious,” he added thoughtfully as he looked over at Ty. “About you two,” he clarified.

Zane’s eyes slid to Ty to check his reaction. His partner had narrowed his eyes at his brother, but he was still smiling slightly, like they were about to play a game he enjoyed.

“Another interrogation?” Zane said, amused. This could either go well… or not. There was potential for all sorts of questions Ty might not want answered for him.

“I don’t interrogate,” Deuce answered with an easy grin. “That’s my brother’s job. I just listen when you give me answers.”

“I’m sure you listen very well,” Zane allowed after a long moment’s pause. But before he said anything else, he glanced over at Ty for some sort of comment.

Ty rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to dance around it. He knows.”

Zane’s brows jumped. “Knows…
what
… exactly?”