by Abigail Roux
The aloe plant would grow back. But everything else that had been lost tonight? It was lost for good.
He stared off into the night, but he wasn’t seeing anything. There was nothing left of the bookstore but the foundation, which was a stroke of luck any way you looked at it. The rescuers had found the survivors in the basement, all but one of them still struggling for life. Nick had no idea who the unlucky body was, and no one had been able to tell him because they’d all been overcome by smoke by the time he and Liam had broken into the hidden basement.
Kelly. Owen. Digger. Ty. Hell, even Zane. A single bomb had almost taken out nearly everything Nick loved. He’d never felt this helpless in his life, not even when he’d been crouching on the basement stairs of his childhood home, disabling the light switch with a pilfered pocketknife.
A sound jolted him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he was almost to his feet before he even realized it. He held his ice pack out like it was his gun.
Liam put both hands up, his dubious gaze going to the ice pack. He had two bottles of beer between his fingers, and they clanked when he shook them. “Just me, mate.”
“Is he awake?” Nick asked, still hovering half out of his seat and brandishing the dripping ice pack like an idiot.
Liam shook his head. He handed Nick one of the beers and threw himself into the seat across from him. They stared at one another for a long, tense moment, broken only by the slapping of the water on the Fiddler’s hull and the whine of the cold wind as it whipped through the plastic that was supposed to protect them from the elements.
“Some crack rescue team we are,” Nick finally muttered.
“You did what you could, mate.”
“Don’t.” Nick popped the beer top on the table next to him. “At least one person is dead. Ty’s missing. Johns and Digger were headed to a hospital burn unit the last time I saw them, and I’ve got two people unconscious downstairs that we should have let the EMTs take. Zane’s going to be pissed when he wakes up. And Kelly . . .”
Liam waited for him to finish.
Nick jerked his head away. And Kelly might never forgive him. “There aren’t words that make this okay, so don’t try.”
For once, Liam seemed to have no jaunty retort. He settled into his seat, curled up as if protecting himself, his chin resting in his hand. “Nicholas.”
Nick forced himself to meet the man’s eyes.
“With Tyler and Zane both gone, you don’t have any stake in this now. The cartel is finished with them.”
“But we’re not finished with the cartel.”
A slow, crooked smile spread over Liam’s face. “What do you suggest?”
“I have some favors I can pull. Call in some backup.”
“From?”
“Guy I helped out last year. Good in a fight. He knows Grady and Garrett, probably owes them his life. Might be up for some destruction if he’s gotten bored enough.”
“Might? We’ll need more than that, what else do you have?”
Nick exhaled carefully, plucking at the label of his beer. “I . . .”
The scuff of a shoe on the stairs behind him had Nick lurching to his feet again. Liam stood with him, and Nick peered down the hatch into the main cabin, holding his breath.
Kelly sat on the steps, his head hanging.
“Kels?” Nick huffed, and he shoved his beer into Liam’s hand and hustled down the hatch to kneel in front of Kelly.
He put a gentle hand on Kelly’s cheek, but Kelly jerked away with a loud inhalation. “Don’t touch.”
Nick balled his hands into fists. “What are you doing?”
“I thought I could make it up there,” Kelly muttered. “My head is pounding. Did I hit it?”
“No.” Nick got his arm under Kelly’s and helped him stand.
“Oh my God, don’t touch it.”
“Okay. Come on.”
Kelly didn’t fight as Nick helped him toward the sofa in the salon. “I heard you talking,” Kelly told him. He shook his head and lowered himself carefully to the cushions. “The others?”
“Digger went with Johns to the hospital,” Nick answered. “He had minor burns and a broken arm, Digger wasn’t even bruised. He called not long ago, said they’re about an hour away from discharge. They’re coming here when he’s out.”
Kelly blinked at him, still looking dazed. Nick had sedated him as soon as they’d reached the Fiddler, and he appeared to still be fighting through it. “Grady and Garrett?”
Nick’s stomach plummeted, but he managed to get the words out. Barely. “Ty’s gone.”
“Gone?” Kelly asked, voice going higher.
“He passed out trying to get back into the building. Two firemen carried him to an ambulance, and then Liam and I went in for search and rescue. When we came back out, Ty . . . He’s not in any area hospital, he’s not in any morgue. He’s just gone.”
“The cartel?”
Nick shrugged, feeling ill even as he thought about it. He’d seen those firemen carrying Ty away. He should have gone after them.
“What about Garrett?” Kelly asked. “And the two agents who were with us?”
Nick jerked his head toward the steps to the lower deck. “When you feel up to it, we’ll go see Garrett. He hasn’t woken yet. They only pulled one more person out, I guess she’s one of the agents. Ambulance took her to the hospital, I haven’t heard anything about her.”
“Her name is Clancy,” Kelly said as he used Nick’s shoulder to pull himself to his feet once more. “I want to see Zane.”
Nick nodded, despite wanting to protest. Kelly should rest and Zane wasn’t going anywhere. But he helped Kelly down the steps into the corridor, and past the spare bunks to the closed door of the VIP cabin. “When you feel up to it, he needs looking over, okay? We got him out before the rescue team could, so he’s listed as one of the victims.”
“Why?”
“We couldn’t let the EMTs at him. We had to make him disappear so the cartel would back off.”
Kelly’s brow was pinched in concern, and his eyes darted to the door before he gave Nick a single nod.
“We have him restrained until he wakes. He kept fighting us even when he wasn’t conscious; we were afraid he’d hurt himself. Or us. Don’t untie him until he knows where he is and who you are.”
“Got it.”
Nick turned the handle, but the door thumped open and knocked him sideways. He stumbled back as Kelly shouted.
Zane was crouching in the doorway, chest heaving, frayed ropes wrapped around his knuckles to protect them. The thick door was splintered where Zane had put his shoulder into it.
“Jesus!” Kelly cried. He had his back against the wall, eyes locked on Zane’s hulking mass.
“Zane, stay calm,” Nick urged as he stepped forward, but Zane lunged at him, leading with his shoulder and following with one of those vicious wrapped fists. He caught Nick under the chin and sent him to his back. Stars danced in Nick’s vision, and darkness threatened.
Kelly stepped forward, but Zane shouted and hefted him off his feet. He tossed him toward the bunk nook, and the curtain tore as Kelly grabbed at it in midflight. He toppled into the bunks with a solid thump and colorful curses.
Nick was still bleeding and fighting for breath when Zane leapt over him, escaping down the hallway toward the stairs. Nick rolled over, trying and failing to push to his feet.
“Garrett, wait!” he called, barely able to get the words out through his gasping attempts for air. Jesus Christ, what had Zane hit him with?
A shadow loomed in the stairwell when Zane took the first step, and Zane veered away as Liam came to investigate the noise. He disappeared into the main cabin, slamming the door behind him.
The bunk curtain fluttered to the ground in front of Nick’s face. There was a crash from the bunks as the top one gave way and the mattress fell. A fresh litany of curses came from Kelly, and he finally rolled out into the corridor, grasping at the wall as he tried to find his feet
.
“What the bloody hell was that?” Liam shouted from the top step.
Nick gasped. “That . . . was a Zane.”
Nick heard the pump action of a shotgun from within his cabin. He was going to have more holes in his boat by the end of this, he could feel it.
Kelly helped him to his feet, and they both stumbled sideways as Nick tried to shake the dizziness. A cut on Kelly’s forehead was bleeding freely. Nick could taste the tang of blood on his lips, but he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. He and Kelly both flattened against the wall beside his cabin door in case Zane started firing.
“Garrett,” Nick called, and he had to clear his throat in order to speak again. “You’re safe here, man, you’re on the Fiddler.”
Zane’s answer was a blast of the shotgun. Nick and Kelly covered each other as debris from the thick door sprayed them.
“Jesus Christ!” Nick cried. “Don’t shoot!”
“Wanker!” Liam called from above.
“If I’m safe, why the fuck did I have to cut through ropes with a fucking tiny nickel to get out of that room?” Zane shouted.
“You kept fighting us—”
“Why? Explain or I keep shooting until this fucking thing doesn’t float anymore!”
“They were coming for you, Zane!” Nick said. He realized he sounded panicked and rushed; he didn’t want to be taken out by friendly fire. “They had to think you were dead, we couldn’t let them take you to the hospital!”
Zane shoved the shotgun out of the hole he’d made in the door and turned it so it was pointing toward them. Nick and Kelly both cowered against the wall, trying to shield each other. “Where is Ty?”
Kelly stood carefully, as if any swift movements would warrant another attack like the first.
Nick licked his chapped lips and remained on the floor, covering his head. How the hell could he explain this to Zane without getting shot in the face? “We don’t know where Ty is.”
“Why the hell isn’t he with you?”
Kelly glanced at Nick and shrugged, helping Nick to his feet. Nick put a trembling hand on the door. “He went missing while we were digging you out of that basement.”
“Where’d he go?”
“The whole point of ‘missing’ is we don’t know where he is,” Liam called from above before Nick could answer.
“Why hasn’t he come looking for me?”
Liam snorted. “He probably thinks you’re dead, darling, just like the rest of the world.”
Nick gritted his teeth and turned his head away, wincing in anticipation of the shot that would follow. The barrel of the shotgun lowered, though, giving the impression that Zane himself was drooping dejectedly.
“It’s only been half a day, Garrett. They don’t think you’re dead, just . . . missing right now.”
“When do you get to the part where I’m not shooting you?” Zane asked.
“Put down the gun, let Doc look you over, and then we can start searching for Ty,” Nick said as he edged toward the hole in the door. “We’re on your side, Zane, we need your help.”
Zane pumped the shotgun, his voice going lower. “Yeah, you’re going to need help if you come any closer.”
Nick put up both hands and stopped moving.
“First you fucking disappear on us. Again. Then you’re conveniently the only ones absent when everything goes to hell! You want to tell me why that is?”
Nick swallowed against the tightening in his throat. He closed his eyes in a bid for calm, but it didn’t even remotely work. “Look, dipshit! Cartel men were in Baltimore, they’d rigged the bookstore to blow to send you and Ty a message! We got it out of a man watching your house, and we came as fast as we could!”
“The bookstore has never been in play, it’s not even in our names!”
Nick’s jaw worked silently, his frown deepening. “So?”
“You saying the cartel blew up a building they didn’t even know about?”
“Yes.”
“What, on a fucking whim? Picked a random building and hit the jackpot?”
“I don’t know, Garrett, they must’ve been watching you longer than we realized. Or they had inside information.”
“No shit!”
“Are you honest to God telling me you think I’m the one’s been narcing on you?” Nick gritted out, bristling at the thought of it. Kelly’s fingers dug in to his shoulder to remind him to stay calm.
Zane was silent.
Nick waited a moment, then tried again. “We couldn’t stop them in time, Zane, but we can take the opportunity it gave us, and . . .”
“And?” Zane said impatiently.
“And make you disappear. That’s why you’re here with us. It buys us time.”
Zane began to laugh. The sound sent a chill up Nick’s spine. Even Kelly’s hand on his shoulder didn’t help chase the shivers away.
“Buys us time?” Zane repeated, low and gruff. His next words were so loud they echoed off the hull. “Where the hell is Ty?”
Nick glanced up the stairwell, meeting Liam’s eyes. “We think . . . it was either the cartel or the NIA. Either way, he’s a prisoner, and we’re the only people who even know he’s still alive.”
“Why the fuck were you digging around in the ashes for me when you should have been with him?” Zane shouted, his voice cracking.
Nick couldn’t breathe at all. He tried to pull in air, but his throat was too tight and his chest hurt too much. He hadn’t been digging around in the ashes for Zane. He’d seen two men dragging Ty’s unconscious body toward an ambulance, and he’d let them take him away because the only thing Nick had been able to think about was Kelly in that building. He’d made a choice, a conscious one. And for maybe the first time since he’d met the man, his first choice hadn’t been Ty Grady.
“Anything happens to Ty, and it’s on your head!” Zane snarled, and he banged something against the wall. “You were supposed to have his back! He trusts you with his life, and you let him just disappear!”
“Bullshit,” Kelly hissed.
Nick gulped a deep breath as he pressed a hand to Kelly’s chest to calm him, forcing himself to keep at it even though he wanted to just bury his head in the sand until the storm passed. “You’re right. It’s on me right now. So help me make it right, Garrett.”
The shotgun faltered again. After a few tense seconds, Zane pulled the barrel back inside. His face appeared in the opening, and he narrowed his eyes at Nick. “You got a plan?”
“Give us the gun and I’ll give you more than a plan.”
Zane’s black eyes darted toward the stairs, then back to Nick. “Who else is out there? How many?”
“Three. All of us your friends.”
“We’ll see about that. I’m keeping the gun. Give me a phone and we’ll talk.”
Nick gave Liam a curt nod, and he disappeared for a moment. When he returned he tossed a cell phone to Nick, then ducked back behind the curve of the stairwell. Nick held the phone up for Zane to see. “Right now, you’re a pile of ash in that basement,” he told him. “Whoever you call—”
“Fuck you, O’Flaherty,” Zane snarled. “Don’t fucking tell me how to operate. You’ve botched this thing at every turn. It’s time to do this shit my way.”
Nick pressed his mouth into a thin line, staring through the hole in his cabin door. He waved the phone again. “Fine. Trade.”
Zane nodded curtly. He showed Nick the shotgun through the hole. “Phone first.”
Nick sighed and held the phone out in front of the bullet-riddled door. Zane snatched it through the largest portion of the opening.
“Gun,” Nick said, beckoning with his fingers.
“Go fuck yourself,” Zane grunted, and Nick could hear him moving away from the door as he dialed.
Kelly snorted, and Nick’s shoulders slumped.
“Never trust a Fed,” Liam called to them from the top of the steps. “Amateurs.”
Ty had been in this room before. He’d bee
n handcuffed to this table before. He’d been questioned by these agents before. Agents X and Y. He hadn’t learned their names the last time the CIA had detained him, and now he just didn’t care. His entire world seemed like a blur of grays moving too fast. His stomach churned. His head pounded. His pulse raced in his ears and he could hear nothing but a low whine.
He recognized the symptoms of shock, and a portion of his system that was compartmentalizing things looked on with a detached sort of interest. He’d gotten through this state of being once, but he’d had the advantage of friends, time, and loads and loads of therapy then. He’d also had the advantage of purpose back then, a reason to bounce back, something to live for, a mission in life he believed in.
This time? There was nothing left for his mind to latch onto. His job was gone. His freedom was gone. His friends were gone. His husband was gone. His mind might as well go with them.
“Special Agent Grady,” Agent X said, more forcefully this time.
Ty tore his gaze away from the dull steel top of the table and made himself meet the CIA agent’s eyes. “It’s just Mr. Grady now.”
The man cocked his head, sighing. “Tyler. We can help you.”
“You dragged me away from the only thing I care about in the world when I still could have saved him. How the hell are you going to help me?”
“We’re keeping an eye on the hospitals in Baltimore. Several people made it out of that building.”
Ty straightened, his wrists pulling at the handcuffs. “Zane?”
“Not yet. Rescue is still ongoing.”
Ty’s shoulders slumped again. “You know as well as I do that it’s not a rescue anymore. It’s just recovery.”
“You were unconscious before we got you in our vehicle; you couldn’t have gotten to him. Your two friends who went in to help? They never came out. We saved you.”
Ty laughed softly, closing his eyes. “From what?” He registered the exhaustion in his voice, but he was done faking any sort of bravado. He was done.
“The Vega cartel. The NIA. Anyone else who may be after the money Richard Burns stole and considers you an excellent source for finding it.”