Crash & Burn

by Abigail Roux

  A knock on the door drew his attention, but only briefly. Zane grabbed at his chin, shaking his head and smirking. “Let it go,” he whispered.

  Ty delved back into another kiss. But then the knock came again, weaker and slower, as if their visitor was using the palm of a hand rather than knuckles. Ty raised his head again and squinted at the front door.

  “Ty,” Zane groaned. “It’s probably Johns and Digger wanting me to cook for them after all. Or some drunk at the wrong door again.”

  “That fucking bar down the street, dude, I’m ready to file a complaint with the city.” Ty settled between Zane’s legs, pressing him further into the couch cushions. Their lips had barely brushed before the knock came again. This time, though, it was merely a scratch and a thump at the door as if something had fallen against it.

  Ty straightened with a frown, and Zane sat up to crane his head toward the door. They both stared, bodies tensing. They’d each spent too much time in the business to ignore a sound like that.

  Zane patted Ty’s thigh. “Go check,” he whispered.

  Ty rolled off him, and as he edged toward the front door, Zane retrieved a hidden handgun from beneath the couch where Ty had duct-taped it at some point. Ty waited until Zane had pressed himself against the wall, at the ready, before he cracked the door open and peeked out.

  The man on the stoop had slumped against the doorframe, head lowered, shoulders hunched against the biting cold. He looked every bit like he had given up on the door being answered and intended to just sleep there tonight. He had a hood over his head, and his bulky shoulders were covered by a thin, green anorak.

  “Hey buddy,” Ty said carefully. “You okay out here?”

  The man looked up at the sound of Ty’s voice, and Ty gasped as he found himself staring into the faded-green eyes of Nick O’Flaherty.

  “Six.” Nick pushed away from the door with one hand, leaving behind a smear of blood as he stumbled toward Ty.

  Ty caught him as Nick collapsed, but his knees buckled under the unexpected weight. “Zane!” he cried. “Help me!”

  Zane moved to support Nick’s weight, and together they dragged him inside. Zane kicked the door closed behind them, and they laid Nick out on the hardwood floor. Zane lurched sideways and threw the dead bolt on the door.

  Nick gasped and curled as he tried to protect his bloodied side. His anorak was soaked. It wasn’t raining that hard, so he’d been in the elements for a while.

  “I got you,” Ty said as he leaned over him and patted Nick’s cheek. “Irish? Look at me. Look at me!”

  Nick focused on him, and he seemed to calm a little when Ty’s tone became more of an order than a request. He was still breathing hard, but he closed his eyes and held still as Zane patted him down, looking for the source of the blood.

  “What happened?” Ty asked, his hands still cupping Nick’s face.

  “Bell.” Nick’s voice was thin. He closed his eyes and took a shallow, shaky breath. “He turned on me. Knifed me.”

  “Liam Bell?” Zane shouted. “What the fuck?”

  Ty couldn’t tell what was blood and what was rain, but there was a lot of discoloration on Nick’s shirt right now. He turned his attention back to Nick, forcing himself to keep calm. “What do you mean, he turned on you? What were you doing with him?”

  Pain creased Nick’s brow and seeped into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay,” Ty whispered.

  Nick almost came off the floor when Zane found the wound in his side. Ty had to hold him down as Zane inspected it.

  “He might be lucky,” Zane finally whispered. “Looks like a knife went through his surgical incision. The scar tissue is thick there, acted as armor. It doesn’t look like it was deep enough to nick anything.”

  “You sure?”

  Zane nodded curtly and pressed his hand over the wound to stem the bleeding. “He’s losing lots of blood, but he’s okay.”

  “Thank Christ,” Ty said under his breath, grabbing a couch cushion to elevate Nick’s feet and a throw to cover him with, tucking the blanket as best he could around Zane’s hand.

  “Why was he with Liam Bell?”

  “Zane, later,” Ty warned.

  Nick grabbed Ty’s wrist, squeezing it hard, shaking his head.

  “No, Ty, why the hell was he with Liam Bell?” Zane asked again. “What were they doing?”

  “That can wait, Garrett, just call an ambulance!”

  “No, no cops,” Nick gasped. “No cops. I killed him.” He closed his eyes and repeated the words, whispering them over and over as if they gave him comfort.

  Zane ran a bloody hand through his hair and stood, pacing away a few steps. “Good riddance,” he grunted. “Let’s get him patched up, then we’ll stuff him somewhere safe.”

  Ty stared at his husband with a hint of awe. Zane had come a long way from the agent Ty had met in Richard Burns’s office, the one who’d done everything by the book.

  Ty tore his eyes away from Zane and went to the kitchen to retrieve the old, tin first aid kit he kept under the sink. He also grabbed a few bowls, rags, and bottles of water. They had to plug that wound before Nick lost more blood.

  He thumped to his knees next to Nick with his armload of supplies.

  “No,” Nick grunted when he saw Ty’s first aid kit. “Hell no.”

  “What?” Ty asked.

  “Don’t let him near me with a knife or a needle,” Nick told Zane, his voice breaking on the last word.

  Ty popped open the first aid kit.

  “Or that Rawleigh’s stuff!” Nick shouted, voice reaching an almost panicked pitch as he grabbed for Zane’s arm. “Oh my God, not the Rawleigh’s stuff! Garrett!”

  “Okay!” Zane said, patting Nick’s hand. “Nothing but water and gauze until Abbott gets here, I promise.”

  “Kelly’s coming here?” Nick asked, but he didn’t sound relieved, not like Ty would have expected, anyway. Zane nodded, and Nick closed his eyes, still gripping Zane’s forearm.

  “What is wrong with my salve?” Ty asked, clutching the tin to his chest. “This stuff works miracles.”

  Zane snorted.

  “Fuck you, Grady.” Nick grunted. His grip on Zane’s arm visibly tightened and he peered up pleadingly at Zane. “Last time he put that on me it peeled my skin off!”

  Ty stroked the tin. “That was a bad batch.”

  “You’re a bad batch!”

  “Ty.” Zane pointed his finger. “Put the salve away.”

  Ty did as he was asked, but grumbled the entire time. Then he tucked the throw blanket around Nick’s legs and waist, cut Nick’s shirt from the wound, and arranged the rags under Nick’s body. He cleaned the area around the wound as Nick held on to Zane’s hand and tried not to cry out.

  It was a tidy stab, if Ty could call it that. Whatever weapon Liam had used when he’d attacked Nick hadn’t been serrated, and he hadn’t been able to twist it. Nick must have taken care of him before he could, and the blade had merely slipped in and then right back out with all the precision of a scalpel. It wasn’t deep. It probably hurt a great deal, but the biggest danger to Nick was loss of blood.

  “I’m surprised you pulled the knife out,” Ty said as he dabbed at the wound.

  “I didn’t,” Nick said tightly. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to have lost what little fight he’d had in him over the salve, but he was regaining some color in his face just from being warm and immobile. By morning, he might be rested enough to tell them what the fuck had happened without losing the narrative to exhaustion and confusion.

  Zane used two Steri-Strips to close the incision, because Ty wasn’t willing to call it anything else, and then pressed a square of gauze to it, letting the seeping blood hold it in place as Ty made a larger bandage to cover it.

  When they finished, Nick was staring at the ceiling, gasping, his fingers clutching at the rug. As Ty watched him, he closed his eyes as if relief was washing through him. Ty fought the urge to hug
him.

  “Is there anyone after you?” Ty whispered.

  Nick grunted and opened his eyes again.

  “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 d
idn’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!”