Crash & Burn

by Abigail Roux

  Zane glared at him. He knew Ty had a knack for escaping from handcuffs, and he had no doubt Nick knew the same tricks.

  “I used my only lockpick the first attempt,” Nick said. “I got nothing left. You still got that nickel?”

  Zane sighed and shook his head. “Gave it back to Ty when he started whining about me stealing his toys.”

  Nick nodded.

  Zane studied the room for anything to aid in their escape. There was one window, possibly large enough for them to slip through, but it would be tight. Nick had tested the door already. But hell, they had to get out of their restraints first.

  Nick inhaled noisily as Zane pondered their situation. “Did you steal Ty’s go bag boots?”

  Zane glanced at him distractedly, nodding. “Yeah. I told him he could have them back, but I’m a dirty liar. They’re like walking on clouds.”

  “Garrett!” Nick’s handcuffs clanked when he moved. “The laces on those boots, the plastic thingies have modified handcuff keys on them.”

  “The aglets?” Zane asked. He squirmed around, trying to loosen the ropes enough so he could see his shoes.

  “The what?” Nick asked, sounding an odd combination of desperate and exasperated.

  “Aglets. Plastic thingies.”

  “Why do you know what those things are called?”

  “Phineas and Ferb.”

  “You watch cartoons?”

  Zane laughed hoarsely. “Kind of judgy for someone who can sing the country song from Animaniacs.”

  “Damn you, Tyler! Can’t keep a fucking secret!”

  “I know all sorts of things, O’Flaherty,” Zane crooned, grinning as he squirmed.

  Nick grunted, taking a deep breath. “Garrett, just . . . can you get your foot this way?”

  Zane gauged the distance between them, estimating it was perhaps ten feet, maybe less. There was no way he could get his foot to reach Nick, even with his long legs.

  “I can try kicking it,” Zane decided. He tried to work his boot off with his other foot, struggling with the tightly tied laces. While he worked at the boot, Nick stretched across the expanse between them. It was a standard-sized bedroom, but suddenly it seemed like a football field. With his arms straining above his head, pulling the chain of his handcuffs so tight they cut into him, Nick could just manage to brush his bare toes against Zane’s boots.

  They could do this. Zane could get the boot close enough that Nick could pull it in and free them both.

  He just had to get the damn thing off. “The laces are too tight,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Nick huffed and felt for the end of one of the laces with his toes.

  Zane couldn’t help it. He started to laugh.

  Nick sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know who’s worse to be held captive with, you or Ty.” He grunted when he was able to get a lace between his toes and tug it free.

  Zane was still laughing when he managed to get his boot off and kick it over. It landed on Nick’s stomach, muffling any sound made in the exchange.

  Nick winced and gritted his teeth against a cry of pain. Then he looked down at the boot, one eyebrow raised. “Bravo.”

  “It’s been a weird week.”

  Ty knelt in the living room of the little house near the Marine base at Quantico, his eyes trailing over the mess, his body tense.

  The others were fanned out, some of them keeping watch, some of them helping Ty search.

  They’d scoured Baltimore for clues to where Nick had gone, starting with the scene in the row house and then following the trail until Ty had dead-ended at a road where Fell’s Point tourists often parked cars.

  The trail he’d followed had been nothing but evidence of a body being dragged. He’d tried to prepare himself, and the others, for not finding Nick alive. Or at all. His body might be in the harbor right now. Or in some swamp down south. Ty didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

  Owen had tapped into the local police database, searching for security camera feeds to give them a hint of what type of vehicle they were after, or whether Nick had even been alive. He’d gotten nothing.

  Their twelve hours had run out on them with nothing but heartache to show for it, and they’d gone to meet with Zane. When he hadn’t shown up, Ty had driven them to Quantico.

  And they’d found this disaster.

  “At least it don’t look as bad as your house,” Digger tried. They all stood around, listless, shoulders slumped, looking like they’d lost already.

  They had lost. And now they’d lost Zane, too.

  Ty felt a sort of calm coming over him, much like the one he’d experienced at Langley while being questioned, but this was a little different. There was an edge to it, one that made him want to see fire on the horizon.

  He’d find Zane, or he’d burn this place to the ground.

  “I got Zane’s service weapon,” Kelly called from the kitchen. He stood up, holding the gun up by a pen through the trigger guard. “Wedged under the cabinets, like it slid in here.”

  Ty looked from him to the drag marks in the carpet. Next to them was a granite block that appeared to be a set of coasters in a holder. The top coaster had a war eagle on it, with the words Ranger Up written on it to make a decorative seal. There was blood on the corner.

  Jack Tanner had been a Ranger.

  If Zane had walked in here, he’d been caught entirely unaware. Digger was right, there’d been no struggle, nothing like the one at the row house. That meant Zane had been attacked by someone he trusted.

  Someone like Tanner.

  Ty stood, taking a deep breath as he his body ran with ice. “I know where they are.”

  The others stopped whatever they were doing and moved closer.

  “Jack Tanner. He worked with Burns, and he must have known about the money. He’s after it. He took Nick. And now he’s taken Zane. I know the way he works, he’ll use one to make the other talk.”

  Kelly closed his eyes and turned his head away.

  “You can find them?” Owen asked.

  “Tanner had a cabin. A hunting cabin. He’d take them there.”

  “Can you find it?” Liam asked.

  Ty merely nodded, returning his weapon to its holster and turning for the door. “We have to hurry. They’ll be dead by nightfall.”

  Zane crouched behind the head of the bed, trying to make himself small. They’d shoved the window open, and though Zane was fairly certain he could get his shoulders through it with a little creativity, Nick was too injured to manage it, even with help.

  He’d told Zane to run, but Zane would be damned if he left the man there. The only way they were getting out of this place was together, and the only way they were doing that was by fighting their way out.

  Nick lay curled on his mattress, his cuffed hands held to his ribs, rocking rhythmically, much like Ty always did when he was miserable.

  Zane worried about the internal damage Nick may have suffered. He’d taken a look at Nick’s torso, and the bruising looked like a Rorschach test. Not only that, but once they were free of the room, Nick wouldn’t be able to run. He claimed his knee wasn’t dislocated, but Zane wasn’t going to bet their lives on him being right.

  That left them only one chance at getting out of here: kill everyone they encountered, and walk out.

  After what seemed like hours of waiting, there was a thump at the door, and the metallic slide of a hefty lock. Nick didn’t cease his rocking. Zane shrank further into his hiding spot, forcing his mind to calm, his body to steady. They had exactly one shot at this.

  A man stepped into the room, halting when he saw the ropes on the ground and empty bed where Zane was supposed to be. “Shit!” He dropped whatever he’d been holding to dart toward the window and look out. “Wilkins!”

  The man then turned to Nick with a snarl. He lunged toward him, grabbing his hair to pull him out of his curled position.

  “How long’s he been gone?” he demanded.

  Nick moved fas
t, going from hurt and lethargic to lethal in a blink of an eye. He brought an elbow against the man’s neck, laying him out, and then he whipped the handcuffs off his wrists as he pounced the felled jailer. He slung one of the rings open with a flick of his fingers and drove the dull tip into the man’s eye.

  Zane shot forward, stripping the twitching guard of every possible weapon even as Nick, one hand over the man’s mouth, tried to pull the curved bit of the handcuff out of his eye socket.

  Zane put the guard out of his misery as Nick held him down. Then he tapped Nick’s shoulder with the dripping knife blade and handed him the gun. When he looked up, a man was standing in the doorway, stunned into immobility. Zane stood and tossed the knife, but the man ducked out of sight.

  Zane dove for the door, grabbing up the plastic tray full of spilled food the guard had been bringing them, and then shoving it into the frame as the heavy door slammed closed. The tray snapped, but it prevented the door from latching, and Zane kicked it open.

  A gun wavered toward his head. Zane smacked it away with what remained of the tray in his hands, and it went flying. The guard, who was nothing more than a kid, grabbed for the knife at his thigh.

  Zane yanked his knife out of the doorframe and then flipped it in his hand so it was snug against his forearm. He lunged, grabbing the kid by his shoulder and slicing the knife across the side of his neck, then coming back and embedding it into his spine. When he pulled the knife out, the kid dropped like a stone.

  Zane wasn’t even breathing hard when he crouched and got eyes on the cabin. He’d never been here; he’d merely heard Tanner talk about it a few times. It was one large room with a kitchen and dining area on one end, a living space on the other. There was the bedroom they’d been kept in, and what appeared to be another bedroom next to it.

  Tanner was nowhere to be seen.

  “Garrett?” Nick was out of breath and getting worse. They couldn’t linger or Zane might not be able to get Nick out at all.

  “Tanner’s not here,” Zane answered, keeping his voice soft.

  “Let’s book it, then, bud,” Nick grunted, and Zane glanced over his shoulder to find Nick right there behind him.

  “You moving okay?”

  “Enough to get the fuck out of here.”

  Zane offered his help anyway, and Nick wrapped an arm around Zane’s neck, leaning on him as they limped out of the room. Zane led them as Nick kept his gun up, watching the other bedroom for movement.

  They were almost to the front door when Nick fired a shot, then cursed.

  Zane dropped low, pulling Nick with him. But they had nowhere to take cover in the wide-open room.

  “Missed him,” Nick grunted as he checked the sight on the gun they’d taken from one of the dead men. “Off by an inch. Motherfucking federal rookie doucheclowns!”

  Zane stared at the open bedroom door, bringing Nick to rest with his back against the sofa. “Cover me.”

  “Garrett, either this gun’s off or I am,” Nick warned.

  Zane didn’t take his eyes off the doorway. He just nodded, patting Nick on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out when I need you. Cover me,” he said again, and he slapped the bloody knife against his forearm, creeping closer to the open door. “Jack?”

  He heard a loud sigh from within the room. “You really could have been something, Zane.”

  Zane tried to find an angle or a reflection, anything to get an idea of where Tanner was and how he was armed. “I do okay.”

  Tanner laughed. “Millions of dollars, Zane. Hundreds of millions. And you had to go turn honorable on me. You and Grady. Never pegged you for the type. Him, yeah, I pegged him. So fucking eager to bend over and take it.”

  Zane gritted his teeth, telling himself to ignore everything the man said and keep his eye on the prize here.

  “I’m going to kill you, Zane,” Tanner said, his tone conversational. “Right after you tell me where that money is.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Class fuckup, couldn’t even make it up the rope,” Tanner drawled, chuckling. “Thinks he can take down Teacher. You remember who taught you to use those knives?”

  Zane narrowed his eyes, adjusting his grip on the handle of the knife. All these years, Jack Tanner had been a bright spot in his memory, the only person besides Becky who’d ever believed in him. Losing that memory to Tanner’s betrayal brought sharp grief barreling back into him, like he was standing in the damp and watching his beloved wife’s casket being lowered into the ground all over again.

  He bared his teeth, unwilling to lose one more piece of himself to anguish from the past. Tanner was about to pay for every moment of Zane’s suffering, every turn of his spiral. Finally, Zane could avenge himself on someone who fucking deserved it. “Let’s play, then.”

  “Garrett!” Nick said from behind him. “Don’t be fucking stupid, man.”

  Zane just shook his head. Tanner appeared in the doorway, two small blades in his hands. Zane motioned with one hand for Nick to hold his fire, and was rewarded with a string of curses.

  Tanner raised an eyebrow, shrugging at Zane. He was grizzled, with more wrinkles on his leathery face and more gray hair than the last time Zane had seen him. But he was still wiry and spry, still capable. He rolled his head from side to side and shook his shoulders out. “All grown up, now, Zane.”

  Zane eased back into a defensive stance, bringing both hands up and flipping the knife so the blade faced out. Tanner didn’t offer more conversation. He lunged, aiming for Zane’s knees. Zane dodged and swiped at his head, coming back on the return to nick the meat of Tanner’s upper arm. Blood sprayed, and he retreated, circling, arms up and ready.

  “Garrett, I got him,” Nick called, but Zane shook his head.

  “This one’s for me.”

  Tanner attacked again, and this time Zane stepped to the side. Tanner’s thrusting knife went past his torso, and Zane brought an elbow up, smashing his chin. He jammed his ring finger under Tanner’s nose, forcing his head back, and threw him to the ground headfirst.

  He kicked Tanner’s knife away, then jammed his blade in Tanner’s wrist, pinning his arm to the ground.

  Tanner screamed and dropped his other knife.

  Zane bent over him with a sneer. “My husband taught me that one,” he growled, and then he straightened and smashed his boot into Tanner’s face.

  He backed away, knowing better than to take his eyes off Tanner even though he was pretty sure the man wasn’t getting up again. He put out a hand, and Nick placed the gun in it, then Zane took three long strides back to Tanner, looming over him.

  He gurgled when he breathed, and his eyes were fluttering as he fought with consciousness. “Zane.”

  “Go straight to Hell,” Zane snarled, and put a bullet in the man’s forehead.

  Zane stood over him for a moment, letting the pain leak out of him along with the blood pooling on the floor.

  He was done losing things from the past.

  “Garrett,” Nick finally said, and Zane turned to him. He was holding to his side, breaths ragged and eyes glassy.

  Zane nodded, then bent to search Tanner’s pockets for keys. He took the time to go through Tanner’s desk too, but there was nothing in the cabin they didn’t already know, and Zane wasn’t willing to spend more time searching. If Nick didn’t get help, Zane would lose him.

  He gathered Nick up, and they struggled to their feet. Zane handed him the gun again so he could cover them while Zane got them to Tanner’s car.

  “That was pretty,” Nick croaked.

  Zane merely nodded as they shoved through the front door of the cabin. They stumbled into the dirt driveway, the setting sun blinding them both.

  Something broke the tree line to their left and skidded to a halt. When Zane turned Nick toward it, Nick squeezed the trigger.

  The shot whizzed past Ty’s ear before anyone even realized he was almost dead.

  Nick hung off Zane’s shoulders by an arm, both of them
staring at Ty with wide eyes. The gun was still clutched in Nick’s trembling hand, wavering in Ty’s direction.

  Ty breathed out slowly. He patted his chest to make sure he was okay.

  “I’m going to throw up,” Nick grunted. He pulled off Zane’s shoulder and turned, falling to his knees. The gun clattered away from him.

  Zane took a few careful steps toward Ty before jogging to him and grabbing him.

  Ty clutched to him, digging his fingers in his hair. “I swear to God, I’m never letting you leave my sight again,” he hissed in Zane’s ear.

  Zane buried his face in Ty’s neck. “I’m good with that.”

  The drive to Texas from Virginia was harrowing, to say the least. It took them a solid day to get there.

  They had to worry about Digger strangling Liam every time the man spoke. And the way Nick’s eyes went distant when he thought no one was watching him, the way he favored his injuries when he thought no one saw. And Owen taking a couple of those pain pills for his broken arm and waxing poetic about a girl he’d been dating named Riley that none of them had heard of before, and Ty wasn’t sure whether to think she was real or a figment of Owen’s drugs.

  When they rolled into Austin, Ty was driving the Mustang, with Kelly following in the SUV. Ty’d seen the car swerve a few times in his rearview mirror, but no alerts had come over their two-way. He sort of imagined a fight in the backseat that wound up with Kelly threatening everyone with a flyswatter as he drove.

  Zane, apparently, had seen the last swerve as well. “Not exactly the elite fighting force we were hoping for, huh?”

  “They’ll settle when it’s time,” Ty assured him. He could feel Zane watching him, and he glanced over with a weak smile. “How’s the arm?”

  “It’s fine,” Zane assured him. “I can go.”

  Ty knew his husband well enough to see a lie when Zane told one.

  Nick lay in the backseat of the Mustang, sleeping off whatever shot Kelly had given him. His ribs were bound and they had wrapped his knee as tightly as he could stand it. Ty shook his head; the two men he trusted most in the fucking world to have his back during a fight, and neither was well enough to get into a fight.