Crash & Burn

by Abigail Roux

  To Ty’s left, an explosion rocked the compound. The shock wave blasted over them. Buffs and scarves protected their faces against the heat. At least Digger’s discount C4 worked.

  Their primary goal was to take Juan Carlos de la Vega alive. He could either be leveraged for the cartel’s bounty on Ty and Zane’s heads, or he could be turned over to the government in exchange for pardons. Hell, Ty didn’t even mind pitting the cartel and the Feds against each other, as long as he and Zane weren’t part of it anymore.

  Their secondary goal, of course, was to cripple the cartel to the point that they’d be forced to retreat from Miami altogether. You can’t kill what you can’t catch, and since Ty and Zane didn’t plan on vacationing in Colombia anytime soon, Ty would be just fine if the cartel stayed the fuck down there.

  Tertiary goal? Well. Like Zane had said: flame and ash. Fire and brimstone.

  But even if they didn’t manage to accomplish anything they were setting out to do tonight, they had just used a homemade rocket launcher to blow the shit out of the building their intel indicated was the main distribution point for all the cocaine flowing from this operation. All in the name of distraction.

  So, there was that.

  Ty dove to his elbows and knees, firing at the sentries stationed on the roof of the mansion. The sound of gunfire was deafening. Men shouting, screaming in pain and panic, dogs barking, minor explosions following the major one. It was chaos. Pure hell raining down on upscale Miami.

  Julian had been given a sniper rifle and the detonators, much to Digger’s dismay, and he seemed to be enjoying himself from his perch atop the western wall.

  Zane was sticking to Ty’s side. He knew the compound intimately, and their job was to find de la Vega.

  Clancy, Perrimore, and Lassiter had gone left, Owen, Digger, and Kelly right. Their jobs were to kill everything they found. Everything. Liam claimed he still needed proof the cartel had killed his handler in order to clear his name, and he’d gone off alone.

  “Burn it to the ground, boys,” Kelly growled through their earpieces. “Burn it so high Nick can see.”

  Tears tracked down Ty’s face. One last time into the fray. See you on the other side, brother.

  There was a familiar whistle off to the left, and Ty watched the graceful arc of a rocket-propelled projectile fired from a shoulder launcher. It hit an outer building of the compound with impressive results. He could hear Julian snickering in his earpiece.

  Ty and Zane moved toward the main building, clumps of well-manicured grass kicking up around them as they scrambled through heavy fire. They’d advance several steps at a time, then kneel and return fire at intervals as they crept closer and closer.

  Finally they crouched at the corner of the main building. So far, so good.

  “Where’s the entry point?” he asked Zane, who was kneeling beside him, breathing hard. His eyes were hard black, reflecting the flames as if they were coming from within him instead of without. Ty’s phoenix, come to life.

  “Keep up,” Zane rumbled, and he took off at a lope into the smoking shadows.

  “Keep up,” Ty muttered. He found himself smirking as he jogged after him.

  Zane led them through a maze of corridors deep into the house, moving quickly and quietly, dispatching anyone they encountered with frightening indiscrimination.

  He took a turn and Ty nearly ran over him when he stopped short. He was blinking at a painting hung in an alcove.

  “Garrett,” Ty hissed. “This ain’t a museum, come on.”

  “This . . . used to be a hallway. They must have remodeled.”

  Ty stared at him.

  Zane shrugged and moved off again. After a few more twists and turns, he finally stopped at a corner and held up his hand to halt Ty. He pulled an aerosol can from his flak jacket and stretched his long body, reaching up and around the corner to disable what Ty assumed was a motion sensor. They crept around the corner and crouched outside an ornate set of double doors, where Zane cocked his head to listen.

  Some of the gunfire outside let up, and Zane inhaled deeply. “This is the command center. Security system, files, maybe even el Jefe himself if he’s trying to hole up.”

  “Can we take it just the two of us?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Zane said with a grin, his eyes shining with mischief.

  Ty shook his head. “So this is what it’s like being partnered with me, huh? Is that what this is? Is that what you’re doing?”

  Zane chuckled. When he spoke again, he lowered his voice even further. “This may seem hypocritical, but there are a few things I just didn’t want you to know about me.” He pulled his scuffed Glock out of his waistband, checked the clip, and held it at the ready.

  “Is this really the right time for this conversation?” Ty asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Zane winced. “I just need you to know . . . I . . . I hate baseball.”

  “You shut your whore mouth!”

  Zane snickered as he pulled a knife from its sheath.

  Ty cradled his assault rifle with practiced ease, but he had a feeling he might not need it if Zane was about to go get his freak on in this room. “But you do actually like baseball, right?”

  Zane’s mouth quirked, but then he nodded. “You’ve always thought I was a better man than I am. I’m about to prove you wrong.” A bark of angry Spanish from inside the room interrupted him. He nodded curtly and turned toward the door.

  Footsteps coming from the smoky corridor had Ty dropping to his knees, gun up and ready. The man approaching put a hand up, though, tugging his scarf down.

  Ty stood again, motioning Liam forward. “Did you find what you were after?” Ty asked.

  Liam shook his head. “I don’t know why I hoped I would. I came to help you take de la Vega. Perhaps . . . make some amends.”

  Ty nodded, looking Liam up and down, battling within himself over whether to finally just fucking trust the man. He held his fist out, the leather of his gloves squeaking in the hefty silence.

  Liam waited a breath, then pressed his fist to Ty’s, nodding. “For old times’ sake?”

  “Oohrah,” Ty agreed with a small smile.

  They set up on either side of Zane, who turned his back to the door and mule-kicked it at the weakest point. Ty and Liam streamed in, Zane following them, their weapons popping in short bursts as they cleared the room of the few people inside.

  It lasted just seconds, and then they stood in the center of the room amid the dead. One wall was covered with a bank of security feeds. On another, rows and rows of file cabinets.

  “Cartels keep receipts for taxes?” Liam asked as he moved toward the cabinets.

  Ty stepped toward the screens, though, peering at the grainy videos. He was distantly aware of Liam opening and closing the file cabinets.

  “Got eyes on de la Vega?” Zane asked as he came up behind Ty. He pressed his back to Ty’s, facing the door.

  “I don’t know what de la Vega looks like.” Ty’s eyes darted over the screens, though, almost obsessively looking for their people to make sure no one else had been lost.

  Liam grunted as he opened one of the cabinet drawers.

  “What’s in there?” Zane asked.

  “Uhh . . . more like who’s in here?” Liam answered as he shut the drawer.

  Zane made a sound Ty wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before. Ty tapped at Zane’s arm, and Zane turned to the screens. “I can’t see any of our guys,” Ty said with a scowl.

  A horrible scratching sound echoed through the room, a hidden door scraping on concrete, and Liam put his back to Ty and Zane’s as they tried to cover every wall.

  The left side of the room opened up, revealing an impeccably dressed woman, her blonde hair cut in a neat bob, a gun at her hip. She was surrounded by men, all of them with their firearms pointed at Ty, Zane, and Liam.

  “Anna,” Liam blurted.

  The blonde winked at him. She was quite stunning, but Ty wasn’t sure if it was phys
ical or if it was more in her attitude. Either way, she had them by their figurative balls.

  She graced them with a sly smile. “You could have knocked.”

  “I’m curious,” Anna said as she marched her captives into a large holding tank that appeared to have once been part of a water tower. It echoed with her amused tones as Ty and the others stepped inside. “What exactly was the plan here? You didn’t expect to get out of here, did you?”

  In addition to himself, Zane, and Liam, Anna and her men had also rounded up Owen, Clancy, and Perrimore. Ty didn’t know where the others were, or if they were even alive.

  He stood between Zane and Clancy, his jaw set.

  “You faked your death,” Liam said to Anna, and he had the audacity to sound wounded by it. “They hunted me down like a dog for your murder.”

  Anna’s brow creased, and she shook her head, appearing sympathetic. “That certainly wasn’t my intention. My intention was to get paid. And Juan Carlos pays better than any other player on the board right now. It was never personal.”

  “It felt pretty personal to me,” Liam growled.

  She made a clicking sound and shrugged. “Them’s the breaks, kiddo. Now! Listen carefully, I know this will be a difficult concept to grasp for a group that thought they could just walk in and blow shit up and walk out. But this is a once in a lifetime offer.”

  A man came up to stand beside her, loading a nickel-plated Walther PP semiautomatic. Ty could see the gun clearly, but it was hard to see the man’s features with the light from the doorway framing him. From the way Zane tensed at Ty’s side, though, Zane recognized the man.

  Zane had probably known a lot of the lower-level thugs in the cartel, and it had been long enough that some of them may have worked their way higher. What the hell would they do to Zane if they recognized him as the man, the traitor, they had all known as Xander so many years ago? Energy came off Zane in waves. Ty could feel him coiling, either to attack or defend, but he had to know there was nothing they could do, cornered and unarmed. Any move from them would be suicide. Ty didn’t even risk reaching out to touch his husband. The others were all restless, sneering at the cartel lackeys, thrumming in place.

  A basket full of snakes.

  “The first person to join us will get quite the astonishing signing bonus,” Anna said. “Meaning you will get to live, and you will tell us everything you know. Then you’ll get a nice finder’s fee that will aid in alleviating your guilty conscience. Then you’ll either be sent on your way or offered a job, depending on how you handle the first steps. The rest of you? You’ll be dying tonight after some festivities.”

  Ty looked down the line at Liam. If anyone would turn on them to save his own skin, Liam would. And he’d do it now. But Liam stood with his arms crossed, his shoulders rigid and his chin raised high. He seemed to feel eyes on him, and he glanced toward Ty and Zane, smiling sadly when he met Ty’s eyes. “We all die someday, mate,” he said quietly. “I intend to do it well.”

  “Offer’s going once,” Anna called. She held up her hand, one manicured finger raised. “Twice!”

  Ty sniffed. Someone else cursed in the damp. No one moved.

  “Last chance.”

  Owen huffed somewhere to Ty’s left. It drew Ty’s attention, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Zane lower his head. Then Zane turned to Ty and took his face between his hands, kissing him carefully.

  “I’m sorry.” Though his words were whispered, they seemed to echo off the rusting walls. “But I told you I’d disappoint you.”

  His hands dropped away from Ty’s face, and he backed away a few steps, moving toward Anna and the cartel men. Ty and the others watched him tensely, right up until he turned his back on them and what he was doing hit home.

  “Garrett!” Perrimore and Clancy cried in unison.

  “Zane,” Ty gasped. He shifted his weight, but the guns kept his feet rooted to the spot.

  Zane kept moving, hands out as the cartel henchmen grew warier. They patted him down, and then to Ty’s growing astonishment, Zane took the cartel man’s hand and shook it, speaking in rapid Spanish. The man laughed, patting Zane on the shoulder.

  He handed Zane the nickel-plated semiautomatic.

  Zane ejected the magazine to check it as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Grady. You weren’t the only one who went into this with ulterior motives.” He shoved the magazine back in place and tapped the gun against his palm.

  “Zane, what are you doing?” Ty asked breathlessly.

  “When Burns told you he suspected I’d been turned down here?” Zane sounded calm, almost conversational. “Well, he was right.”

  “No.” Ty swallowed hard. “No, this isn’t happening.”

  The words trailed off, echoing in the cavernous room. No one even breathed, and Zane almost smiled as he cocked his head at Ty. “It was a pretty good con, though, huh?” he said, then pointed the gun at Liam and fired.

  Ty heard screaming in his mind as Liam fell away from them. He registered the others moving, rushing the cartel men. Zane fired three more times, downing Clancy, Perrimore, and Owen in rapid succession. Ty stood in the middle of the room, his friends bleeding and dying around him, and stared at Zane.

  Zane moved closer to him, the gun still raised, his eyes hard as obsidian. “Seven bullets left, Ty,” he said softly. It was an almost intimate whisper. “Where do you want them?”

  One of their captors said something in impatient Spanish. Ty couldn’t understand it, but Zane glanced over his shoulder in annoyance and said a single word that shut both men up instantly.

  Ty could have taken that moment to rush him, to wrestle the gun from him. But he blinked at Zane’s profile instead, emptiness engulfing him. Like it was no longer real, he was merely watching it play out in front of him on a stage.

  Zane gestured to the two cartel men, and they both chuckled and exited the room. Anna remained, and Zane gave her a pointed look. “I’m about to become a widower for the second time,” Zane told her. “I’d like a minute alone with my grief.”

  She raised both eyebrows, shaking her head as she left them. Ty heard the door lock from the outside after she closed it.

  “Zane,” Ty whispered.

  Someone on the ground moaned.

  “Shut up,” Zane hissed at Liam, and he used his foot to roll Liam over to his back. Liam had his eyes closed and both hands pressed to his side, blood leaking through his fingers. Zane looked him over, then kicked him back onto his side.

  Zane met Ty’s eyes, and the darkness seeped out of them, replaced by that familiar warmth Ty knew so well. “You’re either earning an Oscar right now or you really believed me.”

  “What?” Ty blurted.

  Zane pounced on him and slapped a hand over his mouth, shushing him. Ty jabbed him in the stomach and grabbed for the gun.

  Zane let it go without a fight, and he stepped away from Ty with his hands held up. “I have to shoot you, Ty. Or they’ll come in and do a better job than I did.” He waved a hand at the others, who were all still breathing, still moving, trying to stop the bleeding from each of their wounds. The Walther was a .22, and none of those wounds were center mass. None of the shots were fatal.

  Ty knew Zane didn’t miss when he aimed at something.

  “What exactly is your plan here?” Ty hissed. He shoved the gun back in Zane’s hands. “Asshole!”

  “These guys are just low-level grunts, they have no idea who I am. Once I get to the lieutenants, they’ll know I wasn’t turned when I was UC, and they’ll probably kill me.”

  Ty stood unblinking, his jaw slack.

  “Awesome plan, Garrett,” Owen growled.

  Ty shook his head at Zane. “There are no words for how stupid you are.”

  Zane nodded in agreement. Ty realized he was shaking his head almost frantically and he forced himself to stop. He plucked the black-and-brown buff from his head and fisted it, then used the buff to slick Zane’s hair back off his face and hold it there. Then he su
rveyed him with a satisfied nod. “There you go.”

  “Thanks.” Zane grasped Ty’s hand and threading their fingers together for a short squeeze. He dropped his voice even lower. “Te amo.”

  “Je t’aime, mon chéri,” Ty said brokenly.

  Zane kissed him. “You have ten minutes,” he whispered, and then he took three long strides toward the door. He banged on it, then turned and raised the gun, giving Ty only enough time to squeeze his eyes shut before he fired.

  The bullet hit home with the force of a dump truck slamming into him, laying him out on the cold cement. The sound in the enclosed space made Ty feel like his very insides were vibrating, and excruciating pain burned its way down his side and filtered through him as Zane exited the room.

  The door clanged behind him, but the lock didn’t sound. Ty waited a few seconds, stunned and trying to fight through the pain, then struggled to his feet as the others all bitched and moaned.

  “What good’s this done us now?” Liam gasped. He was trying to wrap the bullet graze on his torso, but he couldn’t seem to manage it without help. “We’re still unarmed, now we’re all bleeding to death, and he’s out there alone.”

  “Not alone,” Ty said. “Not for long.”

  Anna stood with her arms crossed, smirking as if she found the whole thing amusing. Zane pointedly shoved the Walther in his belt, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

  “You work for Juan Carlos?” Anna asked dubiously.

  “I worked for Antonio. No one else knew me.”

  “Antonio de la Vega is dead.”

  Zane turned his head carefully, smiling. “I guess that makes me a free agent.”

  Anna looked him up and down, considering him. “I suppose you’ll do,” she decided with an impish little glint. She switched to flawless Spanish and told the others to follow.

  The four men formed behind her and Zane. They each held an M4 rifle in their hands, and the array of backup knives and handguns on them made fighting back pretty unlikely.