by Abigail Roux
She seemed to recognize Owen and Digger, probably placing them as Ty’s Recon team even if she might not recall their names. As soon as she saw Ty wasn’t with them, concern filtered into her expression. Zane’s motions seemed to be aimed at calming her, and she ushered them inside. Zane glanced over his shoulder at Ty before shutting the door behind him.
Yes, Zane was right. Ty didn’t need to be the one asking his own father if he might happen to have been involved with stealing millions from a Colombian cartel. That didn’t mean Ty couldn’t sit and sulk about being left like a dog in the car with the windows cracked.
He waited until his knee began bouncing, and then he realized he had far too much energy to just sit there. He pulled on a pair of gloves, then got out of the truck and closed the door with a quiet snick. He checked that his gun was loaded and the safety was off, and then he slunk into the woods to perform a perimeter check so he could feel useful.
He’d grown up on this land and he knew this mountain like the back of his hand. He traveled through the trees with a fluidity normally reserved for wild animals. There wasn’t much snow on the ground here because the canopy was far too thick, so he traded crunching on snow for trying to avoid the snap of twigs as he moved.
When he came around the small gully that behaved as a natural barrier for the property, he turned south and headed toward the back of the house. He could see the lights of the kitchen between the trees, see the smoke rising from the chimney. He stopped and smiled wistfully at the peaceful scene straight from his childhood.
Then a shadow moved amid the trees, blocking out the light.
Zane hadn’t realized he was nervous until he’d tried to move his hands from where they were clutching his jeans, and his fingers throbbed as they started getting blood to them again.
Earl was sitting across from him, on the edge of the sofa. Mara and Chester had joined them, which seemed to make Owen and Digger uncomfortable, but Zane knew the Gradys. Mara wasn’t exactly the little woman puttering around the kitchen.
She didn’t seem as distraught as Earl did right now.
“That can’t be,” he was insisting. He was shaking his head, staring at the table. “I knew him too well.”
“Sir,” Owen said gently. “We wish it weren’t true, but we have too much evidence.”
Earl glanced up at him, then turned his attention back to Zane. He looked so wounded, Zane wasn’t sure how to handle it. He had expected Earl to rail at them, to deny it, to get violent and protective like Ty had when Nick had tried to tell him. But Earl was none of those things. He merely seemed broken and sad.
“I’m sorry,” Zane whispered.
Earl shook his head. “Don’t apologize, son, this ain’t your doing. Where is Ty?”
Zane winced, glancing at Owen and Digger to make sure they had his back. They both nodded. Zane licked his lips and took a deep breath. “He’s in the truck,” he answered carefully.
Mara sat up straighter and peered out the window, scowling. “Why didn’t he come in?”
But the dawning realization in Earl’s eyes told Zane that Earl knew exactly why Ty had stayed in the truck. He blew out a noisy puff of air.
“I have to ask you a few questions,” Zane told him, trying to keep the professional mask that had served him so well for so long.
Mara turned back around, her brow still furrowed. She looked between them and put her hand on Earl’s knee.
“Of course you do,” Earl said, and he was astoundingly calm. Fuck, he was making Zane nervous! “Go on, boy. Get it over with.”
“Were you aware of Richard Burns’s activities?”
“No.” Earl’s answer came out soft and sad.
“Were you aware of the safe he had installed in the floor of his home?”
Earl shook his head. “No.”
Zane licked his lips, steeling himself. “Were you aware that Richard Burns was planning to murder myself and Ty so we’d take the fall for his crimes?”
Earl looked up sharply, eyes flashing. His breath seemed to leave him, and he stood. “Is that true?” he asked, barely audible since he still hadn’t caught his breath.
Zane nodded. “We believe so, yes.”
Earl covered his face with both hands, and Zane could see he was trying to calm himself. It obviously didn’t work, because he snatched a round decorative candle off the coffee table and chucked it at the nearest wall. It smashed into a picture, and glass shards crashed to the ground.
Zane stood, and Owen and Digger were both tensing, waiting. Earl didn’t move again, though. He stood with his hands on his hips, his entire body shaking.
“Earl?” Zane tried.
“Can’t believe that bastard got himself killed before I could do it,” Earl growled.
“Zane,” Mara said shakily. “Can you call Tyler in now?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Zane nodded for Digger to flash the porch light like they’d discussed. “He’ll be just a second.”
Ty saw the old yellow light on the front porch flash on and off, bathing the yard in a kinetic sort of energy for a few brief seconds that seemed entirely too fitting with the arm wrapped around his neck.
Ty reached out toward the light, then went back to trying to pry the arm full of solid muscle away from his windpipe so he could call out for backup or, hell, breathe. Breathing would be just fine right now.
He kicked at the man holding him, aiming for a kneecap, or maybe even a nice tendon, but his bootheel hit with a solid thunk. The guy was wearing body armor.
That was why Ty’s initial attack had failed so miserably. You can’t hit a pressure point that’s under a protective layer of Kevlar. Ty lurched forward, then threw himself back with all his strength. He heard Under Armour’s head hit the tree behind them, and it stunned him enough that Ty could break the hold around his neck and duck away. He turned with a wheelhouse kick toward the side of the man’s knee, where the body armor was weakest.
A twig snapped behind him, and he spun in time to see the attack, but not to defend it. The second man leveled him with a fallen tree limb.
Ty found himself staring at the moonlight through the trees, trying to shake off the whirling queasiness of an impending blackout. He slid his hand into his pocket and got a grip on his gun as the man came into his view. He pulled the trigger without even taking the weapon out of his coat.
The man fell away, and Ty lay there on the frozen ground, fighting to stay conscious. If there were two men on this side of the house, there were definitely more. He sure as hell wasn’t safe, and neither was his family inside.
In the clear cold of the night, Ty heard the screen door screech open and slam again. The floodlights he and Deuce had spent one Easter installing all snapped on, bathing the backyard and the edges of the forest in light.
“Ty!” Zane called.
Ty turned his head, blinking away the sprinkling of floating lights on the edge of his vision. He saw Under Armour trying to stand on his newly ruined knee and bringing his assault rifle up.
Ty tugged his Smith & Wesson out of his destroyed pocket and pointed it at the man. “One chance,” he said to the guy, who was caught with his head turned toward Ty but his weapon turned toward the house.
They stared at each other for long seconds as Ty’s family and friends called his name and fanned out. Someone was coming closer to them, calling. Under Armour turned, aiming the assault rifle at whoever was approaching.
Ty pulled the trigger, and no armor in the world was a match for a head shot. The man coming toward them dropped to the ground at the sound of the gun.
“Six?” Digger called.
“I’m here.” Ty’s abused voice was hoarse, so he swallowed and tried again. “Here! Incoming!”
He could hear Digger skittering through the undergrowth toward him, and soon enough he’d found Ty in the darkness.
“You hit?” Digger asked him.
“No. Got me with a fucking stick in the head.”
Digger’s hands came to h
is head, checking him over. He could feel what seemed to be a split on his cheek, but Digger didn’t seem concerned. “You’ll live.”
He got Ty up without a word, letting him lean on him as they struggled their way toward the edge of the forest. They stopped right on the periphery of the light, crouching down.
“How many?”
“I got two,” Ty answered. “It’s an NIA strike team; they travel in packs of six to eight. They either tailed us, or they were sitting on my parents, waiting for us to show.”
“Why the fuck they after us?”
“They must think we have the money.”
“Well, fuck.”
Ty nodded as he strained to spot Zane or his dad, both of whom had probably come out in search of him. Owen was out there somewhere too, and between the five of them they could be pretty fucking lethal. They just needed a plan.
“Got a plan, boss?” Digger asked.
Ty huffed a laugh. “I was about to ask you that.”
“You knew Richard Burns well, didn’t you, Agent Tanner?” Nick asked the grizzled man who’d let them into his living room in Stafford, Virginia.
“Just call me Jack,” he told him with a wave. He’d offered them all drinks when they’d filtered into his home, but they’d declined. Tanner hadn’t, pouring himself a bourbon right out of a flask in his back pocket.
Nick glanced sideways as the man drank, meeting Kelly’s eyes dubiously. This guy was the one Ty and Zane both spoke so highly of?
“You boys say you’re friends with Tyler Grady?”
“Yes, sir,” Nick answered. “Laura Burns asked him to make some inquiries after her husband’s death.”
Tanner nodded, glancing at the others.
Julian had remained outside, and Liam was standing and restless, walking around the living room. Nick knew he was looking for anything that might help them, but he was still making Nick edgy. Nick was fighting against telling him to just sit the fuck down.
“I knew Richard,” Tanner said with a sorrowful nod. “He was a good friend. Good man. They made any progress in finding out who killed him?”
Nick didn’t blink. “Not that I know of,” he said evenly.
“Well, I hope they hang the bastard by his nut sac,” Tanner said before taking a long swig from his glass.
Liam coughed behind Nick to cover any sound he’d been about to make.
“That’s why we’re here,” Nick added.
“Sir, did you happen to know about anything Burns was keeping hidden?” Kelly asked Tanner. “A hiding spot he had from even his wife?”
“You mean the safe he put in his floor?” Tanner asked, his keen eyes narrowing.
Kelly and Nick shared another glance, surprised it was looking like this lead might pan out.
“He had that thing put in a few years ago. I made fun of him. ‘What you going to do with a safe in a floor, put your wife’s heart in there?’” Tanner smiled weakly. “Ain’t so funny now.”
Nick realized he was scowling at the man, and he worked to school his features again.
“Did he ever say why he needed it?” Kelly asked.
Tanner shook his head. “I figured it had something to do with the ops he ran on the side.”
“Can you tell us about those?” Nick asked. Ty and Zane had told them that Tanner helped Burns recruit for his side jobs, but it never hurt to play a little dumb.
Tanner sighed. “He’d have me single out promising candidates, wine and dine them, groom them for special tasks. He shut it all down a few years ago, ’round the same time he put that safe in. I just thought he took all the evidence he gathered and put it in there. Second coming of J. Edgar Hoover or something.”
Nick was frowning again when he asked, “Who else would know about that safe?”
Tanner raised both eyebrows, tapping a finger against his glass. “Well, his son came by here not two weeks ago. I told him about it.”
“His son?” Nick repeated.
Tanner hummed. “Yeah, estranged or something. Trying to find his daddy’s will, he said.”
“Can you tell us what he looked like?” Kelly asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Tanner pursed his lips. “Must have been a fling ’cause he didn’t exactly look the part. Latino, if you ask me.”
Zane and Earl crouched in a depression running through the backyard, squinting into the woods. They didn’t dare fire, because they’d heard Ty’s voice coming from out there.
“Who’s after you?” Earl asked.
“Who’s not?” Zane grunted. “NIA, cartel, maybe CIA, we’re a little iffy on whose side they’re on right now.”
“God damn, son.”
Zane almost laughed.
“If we can get back to the house, we can get to the big guns, some high ground and cover,” Earl whispered.
Zane peered over the lip of the ditch they were stretched out in. “That’s a lot of open ground,” he said as he stared at the back porch in the distance. Not only did they risk exposing their silhouettes to the moon and becoming easy targets for whoever was out there, but also their own men might not know it was them and think they were attacking the house. He didn’t know where Owen was, other than the general direction he’d gone in. Zane could only hope Digger had found Ty out there so he wasn’t alone.
He shook his head. “Too risky, they’d cut us down.”
Earl shivered next to him. He’d run out into the cold night in just his jeans and long-sleeved shirt. He wasn’t even wearing shoes. Zane looked him over, hoping Earl was as fucking tough as Zane thought he was.
Movement off on the periphery of the light drew Zane’s eye, but it was difficult to tell what was real and what was a play of the lights and falling snow.
“That them?” Earl asked breathlessly.
“I saw it,” Zane told him. They both strained to see. A moment later, Zane watched two men scampering over the driveway and climbing into the back of the truck. He would recognize the roll of those shoulders anywhere. “It’s Ty.”
“The hell are they doing?”
Zane shook his head. Bullets pinged off the truck. One hit a tire, and it hissed as it flattened. Whatever Ty and Digger had gone in there to do, their movement had created one advantage: Zane turned right and aimed for the muzzle flashes in the woods, offering a spray of covering fire. From somewhere to their left, they heard a bloodcurdling scream.
“Johns,” Zane breathed, praying to God that hadn’t been Owen out there. He was alone with a broken arm, and that had been the scream of a dying man.
Earl grabbed the back of Zane’s shirt and hefted him off the ground. “Come on, boy,” he growled, and they both ran toward the house, staying low, using the distraction Ty and Digger had offered.
They made it up the porch steps, only to be met with a rifle in their faces as they tried to get through the door.
Mara lowered it and waved them in just as a shot pinged off the metal doorknob.
“Oh, the hell you are!” Mara shouted into the night. She shouldered her way past Earl and raised the rifle, sparing the briefest of moments to take aim before she fired. A dark figure out in the yard stopped in its tracks, propelled backward by the shot.
“Damn it, Mara, now ain’t the time!” Earl cried, and he picked her up with an arm around her waist and dragged her inside. “Keep your head down when you take that shot!”
Zane could hear commotion outside, and he headed for the stairs. Mara handed him her rifle as he went, then headed for the study where the rest of the guns were kept locked up. He took the steps three at a time, shoving into Deuce’s old bedroom, and went to the window, turning the crank with one hand as he tried to pry the screen loose with the other. From here he could see Digger and Ty in the truck, lying prone and doing something with the tools that were in the bed.
Then Zane understood. That was Digger down there, and the landscaper’s truck was full of bags of fertilizer. They were making bombs. Zane grinned and set the rifle on the windowsill, snugging it
against his shoulder. Through the sight he tracked the men approaching the house. The light from the spotlights filtered out into the forest, landing accusingly on anything that moved.
Zane took a shaky breath, lining up the first figure he saw wearing bulky black armor, and pulled the trigger.
Another scream rent the night in the echo of the rifle, a plea for mercy to God and mother, cut short by a sudden silence.
Zane’s breaths were hard and fast to his own ears as he stared into the woods. What the hell was making these men scream like that? Was it Owen? Please let it be Owen. Actually, Zane almost hoped it was a mountain lion. Would serve them right.
A road flare burst to life near the truck.
Zane lined up another shot, taking it and missing as his target hit a hole in the ground and was suddenly too low. The bullet whizzed past him, and Zane cursed. He pulled back, readjusting. A streak of fire arced its way toward the woods. It hit high up on a tree and stuck there for a few seconds, and just as it began to slide to the ground, it burst open. Shards of the tree and flaming debris spread out, and someone screamed.
Two more fertilizer bombs flew into the woods, both exploding a few seconds after they hit.
Zane panned the rifle around the periphery of the woods, but he couldn’t find anyone. He pulled back, heading to Ty’s old bedroom and the window facing the backyard. When he saw no movement outside, no one approaching, he headed downstairs to find Mara sitting on the bottom step with a shotgun across her lap. “I think we pushed them back for now,” he told her.
Earl came into the large foyer from the living room, nodding as he heard Zane’s last words. Zane headed for the front door, opening it carefully to stick his head out. “Ty?”
“Clear?” Ty called from the bed of the truck.
“Stay frosty, baby,” Digger called to him, laughing delightedly.
Zane was almost as disturbed by that as he’d been by the screams out in the woods.
Ty and Digger both vaulted over the back of the truck, scuttling across the driveway to the cover of the porch. Movement to the left caught Zane’s eye, and he raised the rifle until he could make out Owen carefully approaching.