Cut and Run 07 Touch & Geaux (19 page)

When he craned his head to look through the window, Ty was still sitting where he’d left him, the toppled chair next to him, his head bowed, his hand covering his mouth.

“That looked rough,” a man said at Zane’s shoulder.

Zane glanced at him, not really seeing him. He nodded, and looked through the window again. His heart was breaking and the only person he could think to go to for comfort was still sitting at that goddamned table. “I, uh, I need to go back in there,” he stuttered, taking a step past the man.

The muzzle of a gun shoved into his side stopped him in his tracks.

“Not so fast, love. We have some catching up to do,” Liam Bell purred against Zane’s ear.

Pain blossomed at Zane’s temple, and the lights flickered out.

Ty had his phone to his ear, calling Zane’s number for the tenth time as he stepped out of the elevator. It clicked over to voice mail again, and Ty left another message. He was sounding more and more pissed and panicked with each one, but he didn’t care.

It took him three tries to get his key card to work, and he shoved his shoulder into the door to push it open.

When he stalked into the room, Nick was perched on the end of the bed. Kelly and Digger were sitting opposite him, all of them looking grim.

“No Zane?” Nick asked.

Ty shook his head, fighting past the wave of nausea, grief, and panic. “No Owen?” He asked in return, surprised when his voice cracked.

“He left the hotel,” Kelly explained. “He’ll come back, no need to track him down.”

“Yeah, unless Bell gets to him first,” Digger muttered.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Okay, this isn’t some horror movie. He’s not going to pick us off one by one when we venture out.”

“I don’t know, Irish,” Digger said. “I remember Liam being pretty gleeful about hunting people down.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not after all of you,” Ty said. “He wants
me
to suffer.”

Nick lifted his head. “Killing off the people you love is the way I’d go.”

“Dude, you’re getting creepier since you came out,” Kelly muttered. Nick winked at him.

“And if Bell’s not behind the gris-gris, who is?” Digger added.

Ty ran his hand through his hair. He dialed Zane’s number again.

“Who are you calling?” Kelly asked.

“Zane. I can’t reach him.”

“Man down,” Digger whispered.

“Shut up,” Nick hissed. He looked at Ty, frowning deeply. “Would he really disappear on you knowing what’s going down? That doesn’t seem like Garrett’s style.”

“It’s not,” Ty said as he listened to Zane’s voice mail message again. He ended the call and stuffed the phone into his pocket, staring at the floor as waves of prickling cold hit him. “He’s got him.”

“You can’t know that,” Nick tried.

Ty shook his head. “He’s got him, Nick.” He looked around his feet, searching for the crumpled piece of paper he’d found in Zane’s pocket.

“What are you doing?” Nick asked.

“Where’s the paper?”

“I put it on the counter in the bathroom.”

Ty stalked into the bathroom and grabbed it off the vanity. There was a phone number with the name. He dug his phone back out and dialed it, forcing his fingers to work.

After two rings a recording answered, a voice that had haunted his dreams for years.

“Wait your turn,” it said.

Ty gritted his teeth and forced himself not to leave a message that would have come out seething and incoherent and panicked. Instead he ended the call and stared at the phone, his world reeling. He had to think clearly, he had to get to Zane and do it now.

He slammed the paper back onto the counter and fought hard not to toss his phone. He hung his head, taking deep, calming gulps of air. His breath slid the scrap of paper across the marble, and Ty looked closer at it. Now he saw more on the scrap of paper. Streaks of yellowish stains.

“Irish!” he called. Nick appeared in the doorway. Ty picked up the paper, glancing up at the glaring vanity lights overhead. “Did something spill on it?”

“Not that I know of,” Nick said. He peered over Ty’s shoulder, then up at the hot light bulbs. “What’s it smell like?”

Ty sniffed the paper. “Citrus. Lemon maybe.”

Nick stepped closer and grabbed the hairdryer off its dock on the side wall. Ty flattened the paper out and Nick turned the hairdryer on the paper. The yellow streaks began to form words.

“Ugh, I knew I hated him when we were stationed together,” Nick grumbled. The words became clearer as the heat brought out the acid in the lemon juice. “He probably sat in a bar somewhere and used the damn lemon from his water. I hate him!”

Ty just shook his head, heart hammering as the words became clear. Liam Bell had slipped this piece of paper into Zane’s pocket, knowing it would make its way to Ty, believing Ty would keep a level enough head to find the message written here.

Liam was already outthinking him and Ty was already relying on luck.

2 AM. Jackson Square. Be there or your partner dies.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Ty growled.

Nick put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Easy, Ty.”

Ty slammed his hand against the paper. “I’ll kill him!”

He turned, but Nick grabbed him by both shoulders, holding him there and forcing Ty to meet his eyes. “Think, okay? Breathe.”

Ty lowered his head like a bull preparing to charge, but Nick faced him down, waiting for him to calm himself. Ty took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay,” Nick whispered. He released Ty.

Nick’s phone began to ring from his back pocket, breaking the spell. Ty was shaking when Nick pulled the phone out and turned away from him. He glanced up, trying to stay calm, trying not to think of the things that could happen to Zane between now and 2 AM.

Nick cursed as he checked the caller ID, walking away. “Good afternoon, Detective,” he answered with a wince. He turned to Ty. “Of course, any way we can help. When would you like us to come in?” His eyes widened and he waved at Ty. “You’re coming to the hotel?”

He pointed to the phone and then to his feet. The detective was coming here to interview them again. “No, no, that’s fine. But I’m afraid Agent Garrett isn’t here right now, maybe we can delay it until he is.”

Ty shoved his phone in his pocket and rushed to the bed to grab his jacket. He couldn’t be caught in the room. He glanced at the others, and they both waved him toward the door. Nick tapped his watch and held up five fingers:
five minutes to get clear
.

Ty made a gesture to let them know he’d find them, then wrenched the door open, only to stop short when he found himself face-to-face with a man holding a phone to his ear and a badge, two uniformed policemen flanking him.

“Son of a bitch,” Ty grunted.

“Well, Tyler Beaumont,” the detective drawled. He shut his phone, and Nick cursed behind Ty. “I should have known you’d show up with a load of trouble and a couple fake badges.”

“Wake up, darling, we’re wasting time here,” a voice said in the darkness.

It was the same name Ty called him sometimes, but it wasn’t the same word. There was no drawl to it, no affectionate smirk in the voice. It was British, said with sarcasm and disdain.

Zane forced his eyes open, wincing as light lanced through his brain. A blond man came into focus. He leaned over Zane, holding a penlight. He shined it in Zane’s eyes, and Zane groaned and turned his head away.

“Wakey wakey,” Liam crooned.

“Go to Hell,” Zane grunted.

“No need to be testy, Zane. I’m here to help you.”

Zane ignored the throbbing in the back of his head to glare at the man. “By bashing me in the head?”

“Nothing less would have stopped you from going back in that pub and making a huge mistake.”

Ty. Zane tried to sit up, but his hands and arms were tied down. He was stretched out on a concrete floor, trussed up with ropes around his ankles, knees, and wrists. Liam sat beside him on the ground. “What is this?” Zane growled.

“Merely precautionary,” Liam said. Zane was already tired of the way he talked, all dark threat laced with that cheerful British accent. “Hear me out, and then I’ll let you go.”

Zane didn’t trust that for a second, but as long as Liam was talking, Zane had a chance of slipping his ties and escaping.

“You see, I know Tyler Grady. Quite well, to be frank, and he’s a danger to you. To everyone, really, but we can’t all be perfect.”

“Tyler who?” Zane mumbled as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Oh, that’s sweet. Still protecting him even after what he’s done.”

Zane cut his eyes sideways.

“That’s right, Zane. I know what happened. I knew before you did. And I know more. Do you care to hear?”

“No.” He couldn’t stand the thought of hearing more of Ty’s sins, not from this source.

Liam leaned closer, casually resting his elbow on Zane’s chest so he could look down into his eyes. “It’s okay. I understand. Ty broke my heart too. It’s a small but spectacular club. Welcome.”

Zane licked his lips, trying to regulate his breathing, desperate to slow his heartbeat so the man wouldn’t feel it banging against his chest.

“It’s not really his fault, it’s just how Ty works. He’s easy to fall for when he’s got that mask up. He makes you love him because he knows that’s the easiest way to get what he wants from you. You trust him, you see something worthwhile, something vulnerable in him, and you think you can help. Six months later, he has all your secrets, and he’s gone.”

Zane was shaking his head as Liam spoke.

Liam reached to pop the button on his shirt. “You’re lucky your heart was merely broken.”

Zane’s eyes darted between Liam’s hand and his face, his mind whirring. Liam yanked another button loose, then another. He pulled his collar down to reveal two circular scars on his chest. Bullet wounds. He tapped one with a finger. “Courtesy of the love of your life.”

Zane stared at the scar.

“A .45 caliber MEUSOC pistol. Standard for Force Recon, you know. Back in the day.”

“You’re SAS?”

“I was. I see he’s told you the story.”

Zane was silent. This really was the man Ty had been talking about. The man he’d been involved with in the service, the man he’d shot. He was handsome and charismatic, exactly the type Ty would be drawn to. Zane could see that much. That, and he carried a gun.

Zane wanted to question him further, but doing so would reveal how much he already knew. He wanted Liam to keep talking.

“No matter. I’ve always said the past is the past for a reason, yeah? Although it does occasionally come back to bite you in the arse. Do you remember a man named Antonio de la Vega?” Liam asked, his blue eyes narrowing.

Zane’s breath caught. “Name’s familiar. Zorro, right?”

“Oh come now, Zane, don’t be coy with me. We’re all friends here. We can share.”

“Friends don’t tie friends up.”

“Oh, you’ve got the wrong sort of friends then,” Liam purred. He laughed, a surprisingly warm, pleasant sound. “I quite like you. You’re fun. Listen, Ty’s already called me once so he knows I have you. I’m not going to harm you, I promise. And I keep my promises, unlike some of us. But I need to lay some groundwork before I call him back, so do me a favor and indulge me. Antonio de la Vega?”

Zane gritted his teeth, but he supposed he didn’t have much to lose. “I heard he was dead.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Nor is it news.”

Zane groaned. “I remember him. Head of the Vega cartel, out of the Republic of Colombia. Feeds into the larger set of Gulf cartels.”

“Excellent. He is indeed very dead. You were one of the FBI agents to infiltrate them. The last one left alive, to be exact. You lot almost took him down, from what I understand. Quite a nice body of work.” He paused to glance down the long line of Zane’s body.

“Eyes are up here,” Zane grunted.

Liam was smirking when he looked back at Zane’s face. “There’s a bit of a price on your head.” He paused, waiting for a response. When Zane merely stared at him, he nodded. “When that plane crashed with Antonio de la Vega in it, his brother took over. You remember his brother?”

Zane did. Antonio de la Vega had been smart and controlled, stingy and almost surgical with his use of violence. He’d lived by a certain code of loyalty and honor. He hadn’t been a bad man to work for, and illegalities aside, Zane had quite liked the man. He’d been saddened when he’d heard of his death. But the younger de la Vega was a different animal altogether. He had a temper. Zane nodded curtly.