“They need to go to law enforcement. They’re already murderers,” Zane said.
“You’re one to talk, hero!” Redjacket yelled out.
Ty stood suddenly, the action throwing the flimsy chair he’d been sitting in backward, and he turned toward the two men tied to the tree with the obvious intention of heading over there to break things. Earl grabbed him and wrapped him up in his arms before he could get too far from the table. He lifted Ty off the ground and turned, setting him back down on his feet hard and holding him there as Deuce lunged up and put himself between them and the two prisoners, just in case Ty got loose.
Zane didn’t move at first; instead, he stared across the clearing at Redjacket and then Earflaps, who had apparently chosen to exercise his right to remain silent. Once Earl had Ty still again, Zane pushed out of his chair and walked slowly over to the tree where the two men were bound.
“I wonder now about your chances,” Zane said conversationally as he knelt in front of them to speak to them. “You know that I won’t hesitate to shoot you. Now you’ve got the Marine ready to skin you. He was Recon, you know, discharged due to mental problems,” he told them in a conspiratorial whisper. Zane looked back over his shoulder at Ty, who was barely staying in the seat with Earl right over him. “The Doc would rather leave you than risk having you around. That only leaves one in your favor, and he’s not really a nice guy.”
“We’re four days’ hike from anywhere! You leave us here we’ll be dead in two!” Redjacket claimed in outrage.
“Gag them!” Earl called out. Zane had a better idea. He stalked over to the table Earl had stacked with supplies and grabbed a roll of duct tape, pulling off a good-size strip as he approached the tree. The two men struggled, trying to yank their heads away from Zane’s hands, but they had been tied much too tightly to do them any good.
“Believe me,” Zane muttered as he taped both their mouths shut, not merely using a single strip over their mouths, but rather wrapping the tape around and around their heads. “I could think of much more uncomfortable ways to shut you up.” He turned his back on them and walked back over to the others, where he tossed the roll of tape on the table next to the first aid kit. “So. We should start thinking about how we plan to get them out of here?” he said, falsely cheerful.
Deuce cleared his throat. “The ATVs are the only way,” he said after an uncomfortable minute. He didn’t seem to want to comment on Ty’s outburst or on Zane’s nonchalant reaction to it. “We just tie them down and drive them out of here.”
Ty sat with his eyes closed, Earl’s hand on his shoulder. Earl’s knuckles were turning white from the pressure he was exerting to keep Ty where he sat. Zane watched for a moment, partly moved because Ty’s violent reaction had been to defend him, partly surprised by the vehemence of it. “Ty,” Zane said, trying to get his partner’s attention focused on something besides breaking necks. “Ty, we need to know what you want to do. If that’s leaving them here or tossing them in the ravine, those can go into the vote.”
Ty took in a deep breath and finally looked up, seemingly calm once more. Earl removed his hand slowly and gave Ty’s shoulder a pat before he took a small step away. When Ty answered, his voice was pitched just loud enough for the two prisoners to hear him. “I say we take them with us,” he decided grimly. “We may need them if we run out of food.”
A muffled series of protests emitted from the tied prisoners. Zane had to turn his back on them as he covered his mouth to stop from laughing, careful of jarring his nose. Ty wasn’t too far gone if that jackass sense of humor was still showing.
Deuce merely rolled his eyes and sank back into his chair. “Shall we talk about dinner, then?” he asked wryly.
Chapter 12
ZANE pushed through the brush, having escaped from the campsite to smoke after Earl and Deuce called it a night. He stopped maybe twenty-five, thirty yards back down the yellow-brick road and off the path a little ways, shook the cigarette out of the package, and lit up before leaning his head sideways against one of the trees he’d taken shelter under. He looked out into the dark, trying not to think, trying to shrug off the tension.
God, he was twitchy. After dealing with a long hike up into strange territory, the treasure hunters and their booby traps, Earl’s repeated verbal jabs at Ty, the capture and showdown, and then the stressful walk to the camp, Zane’s strongest instinctive response—besides wanting to curl up in a ball and protect his head—was to try to calm and comfort his partner. Ty would let himself be coddled when he was hurting when others couldn’t see. But Zane doubted anything he could do at this point would help, if Ty would even let him try. It was frustrating.
Zane knew one thing: that sure as hell wouldn’t happen with Earl around. Zane had never seen Ty react to anyone like he did to Earl. Zane had never even imagined Ty had it in him to behave the way he did around his father: sedate and quiet and eager merely to follow orders.
It was obvious that Earl Grady had been hard on his sons growing up, but it had been clear from the start that Ty and Deuce loved and respected him a great deal. They boys seemed to be more a product of tough love rather than abuse. And the Gradys hadn’t struck Zane as a family that bickered and sniped to hurt each other until Earl had called Ty a coward.
The anger still flamed through Zane at the mere thought. The sheer audacity it took to even think that was stunning. And the fact that Ty had so obviously taken it to heart just because his father had been the one to say it made Zane want to hit something. He couldn’t help but wonder if Earl was being cruel because he was reacting in some way to Zane’s presence. Had he picked up on their relationship? Was he taking it out on Ty because he’d realized what they were doing and disapproved? Zane sighed and shook his head. He was pretty sure he was just being paranoid, and he knew he shouldn’t brood over things he couldn’t change. Leaning his head back, Zane blew a long column of smoke up into the air.
A twig broke somewhere in the darkness as someone moved behind him. Zane tensed and had one hand immediately on his gun as he whirled around.
“Don’t shoot me,” Ty requested quietly as he materialized out of the darkness. Zane relaxed and huffed at him, taking the cigarette from his lips. “Those things’ll kill you,” Ty said softly as he moved to sit on a fallen log near Zane. He stared out over the dimly moonlit valley below them.
Zane’s lips quirked a little, and he relaxed back against the tree as he looked down at his partner. “I’m still expecting bullets anytime now.”
Ty sighed with a hint of the downtrodden to him and nodded in agreement. He looked down at one of his boots and pulled a stick from the tread of it. They stayed quiet for a few minutes, with Zane gazing down at him. “How are you holding up?” Zane finally murmured.
Ty merely shrugged and looked off into the distance. There wasn’t really much to stare at, as dark as it was. It was obvious from the line of his shoulders that he was not going to talk about his father or his feelings or much of anything else. He rarely did.
“I’m starting to think that we’re better off at work than we are on vacation,” Zane mentioned after a few more quiet minutes.
Ty was silent for a moment, but then he lowered his head and snorted. He chuckled ruefully, the sound loud in the still, cold night.
Zane smiled as he finished his cigarette and stubbed it out carefully on an exposed rock before he put it back in the slightly crumpled pack. “Next time we should tell Burns to send us on a case somewhere miserable. Fate would mean we’d be safe there.”
Ty nodded in agreement as his laughter trailed off. He didn’t seem to have much of anything to say, and Zane wondered why he’d sought him out. He stared off into the mountain blackness without moving again. It felt like a moment that deserved a beer or two, even though Zane knew he wouldn’t have been drinking.
Finally, Ty looked over at Zane and sighed. “Got any more of those cigarettes?” he asked quietly.
Zane slowly raised an eyebrow. He got the pack out of his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, sliding it between his lips. After another moment, he had it lit, and after inhaling once, he offered it to Ty.
Ty shook his head as he reached out and took the cigarette. Instead of stubbing it out and flicking it away like he usually did when he took one of Zane’s cigarettes, he took a long drag of it and handed it back to Zane wordlessly.
After a few heartbeats, he reached out and took it again, keeping it this time.
He was silent, unmoving as he sat with his elbows propped on his knees and his head cocked to the side, only occasionally putting the cigarette to his lips.
Zane didn’t know what else there was to do. He’d learned that sometimes the best thing to do with Ty was to wait. Sometimes his partner needed time to work up to what he wanted to say, and sometimes he never said anything at all. So Zane kept quiet and sat down heavily next to him, facing the opposite way so their shoulders brushed as they sat, extending his legs, and lightly prodding the swollen cheekbone under his black eye with one long finger.
“How’s it feel?” Ty asked him softly after several minutes of sitting in silence.
“Hurts like hell,” Zane admitted. The aching throb in the whole side of his face was his pulse. He’d be really colorful for the next several days.
Ty looked over at him with a sympathetic frown. He was the only one who had remained uninjured through the whole ordeal; even after the can bomb, the grenades, the beating he’d taken, and the skirmish, he’d come out with just a bruise or two from the punches he’d taken. He didn’t even have a scratch on him. Zane wondered if Ty was adding a bit of survivor’s guilt to all his other current problems. He watched him worriedly. Ty didn’t deserve this.
Ty lowered his head again and blew a stream of smoke down toward his feet. “You sure it’s not broken?” he asked mildly.
Zane shut his eyes and made himself unclench his jaw, because that just made it hurt even more. “No,” he muttered.
Ty turned his head to look at him, examining him in the darkness. It was hard to make out his features, so he probably wasn’t seeing many of Zane’s, either. After a moment, he nodded and looked away. “We’ll get it checked out when we get back,” he said softly.
Zane nodded. He knew better than to think that was the last he’d hear about it, but for now, he sighed. “It’ll help when I can get some sleep,” he said quietly. It was getting ridiculous how much he was saying and thinking that lately.
Ty glanced at him as he blew smoke to the side. “Still with the nightmares?”
“And then some.”
“You stopped seeing the shrink?” Ty asked carefully.
Zane’s nose wrinkled as he peered out into the darkness. “I had a disagreement with the Bureau therapist in Miami.”
Ty was silent, mulling it over. “Like a… personal disagreement?” he finally asked.
“I suppose you could call it that,” Zane said as he sank his cold hands into his jacket pockets. “I thought therapy was supposed to help you recover. It wasn’t.”
Ty looked down at his feet and back at Zane doubtfully. “Why didn’t you talk to me about any of this?” he asked in confusion. “I was getting so pissed at you,” he admitted as he looked away again.
Zane winced. “I don’t know. I knew I’d be changing therapists anyway since I was moving to DC, and I guess I figured you’d tell me to suck it up. I was really hoping I’d just get over it, but….”
Ty glanced at Zane, seeming as if he wanted to say something. He hesitated, starting and stopping several times before he finally took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry I haven’t been a better partner to you, Garrett.”
Zane blinked at him in surprise. “What makes you say that?” This was an odd mirror of the conversation he’d had with Deuce a few nights ago.
Ty exhaled another long stream of smoke and shook his head again. “I backed away when I knew you needed help,” he answered in a low murmur. “I should have stuck with you, whether you wanted me to or not. You’re not a quitter, good or bad,” he said wryly as he handed Zane the half-smoked cigarette as evidence.
“Yeah, well,” Zane drew out. He had no idea what to say to that, but he was relieved to finally get an answer to why Ty had been drifting away from him in DC. Ty simply nodded and looked down at his feet again. Zane huffed quietly, took a last drag off the cigarette, and ground it out on the rock underfoot. He studied Ty’s profile. “You’re a great partner,” he added quietly.
Ty had been looking at his feet diligently, but then he glanced up, a flash of surprise in his expressive eyes. He studied Zane for a moment before nodding. “Likewise,” he whispered.
Some of the tightness Zane had been feeling in his chest since he talked with Deuce relaxed. That wasn’t something Ty would lie to him about just to make him feel better. That was one of the good things about having a partner who was so brutally honest and blunt. When he said something good, Zane knew he meant it.
“I’m working on it,” Zane said just as quietly. When he closed his eyes, he saw that shotgun going off and a shot tearing into Ty’s back as he crumpled forward into the dirt. He blinked his eyes open and reminded himself silently that he’d been in time to stop that from happening.
They sat in silence, feeling the chill settle in the air and listening to the soothing sounds of the mountain. Ty finally lifted his chin slightly and breathed in deeply. “I know how hard it is after you pull that trigger,” he said quietly. “If you need to talk about it….”
