Cut & Run (Page 111)

Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(111)
Author: Abigail Roux

Ty hopped the barrier behind him as Henninger opened the back door for him. “Where to?” Henninger asked worriedly as Ty helped Zane into the back.

“I don’t care,” Ty answered in a low growl. “Somewhere safe.”

Zane sagged back against the seat and closed his eyes, holding his arm close against his chest protectively. His jacket sleeve hung loose over the sling, sliced in several long pieces.

Nodding, the young agent pulled into traffic and got them moving.

“You’re going to need help, Grady. Should I call Sears and Ross?”

“No,” Ty grunted in answer. “You’re gonna help me,” he said in a low, even voice.

“Me?” Henninger bleated, looking into the mirror again. “I don’t have field experience. Sears and Ross would be a lot more help since Garrett can’t—” Ty was glaring at him in the rearview mirror, and he trailed off and cleared his throat. “All I’m saying is we need backup,” he continued quietly.

“You don’t think your presence in New York is going to be all over the Bureau now that this shit has gone down?”

Ty rubbed his eyes and looked out the window, then back at Zane once more. He had laid his head against Ty’s shoulder and wasn’t moving at all, and Ty thought he might have passed out. “Call ’em,” he grunted softly.

Henninger nodded. “What are you going to do with Garrett?”

“I don’t f**king know!” Ty answered in frustration as he fought with the decisions. “Any suggestions?”

Henninger looked at him hesitantly. “Could take him to my place,” he offered. Ty frowned at him, nodding. Zane trusted Henninger, and for the most part, so did Ty. They could leave Zane at his place with a guard detail and then they would go after the f**ker. There was a hot trail to follow, and part of Ty resented the fact that he was in this car with his injured partner rather than on that trail right now.

“It’s secure,” Henninger assured him. “Key card to get in, that kind of thing.”

“Take us there,” Ty ordered as he pulled his mind off the man who had gone slack against him and back on the man who had once again almost killed them both.

A thirty-minute drive through thick traffic later, Henninger parked the car in the garage under his building and turned to look at them. “How are we getting him upstairs?”

“How far is it?” Ty inquired as he took stock of his own injuries. He had failed to mention the possible cracked rib or sprained wrist to the EMT, and his chest was killing him where the seat belt had cut into him. But he could carry Zane if he had to.

“About forty feet to the elevator, then another fifty to the apartment,”

Henninger said, looking unsure. “Could be more.”

Ty groaned and shook his head. He wouldn’t make it that far, and there was no way he’d risk dropping Zane and causing further injury.

“Garrett,” he murmured in Zane’s ear. “Wake up, man. We need you to walk.”

Zane stirred. “I’m awake,” he mumbled. “We there?”

“Yes,” Ty answered with a flood of relief. He hadn’t relished the idea of dragging Zane’s heavy frame through the building. “Come on,” he murmured with a pat to Zane’s head, fighting back the urge to make a gesture more intimate in front of Henninger.

The bigger man groaned and sat up. “I feel like I got hit by a truck, and it’s all your fault,” he accused weakly.

“I know, it’s all my fault,” Ty murmured agreeably as he slid out the back of the car and pulled Zane carefully with him. “Technically, you should be feeling really good,” he corrected.

“Too much pain negates the effects of happy juice,” Zane croaked as Ty got him out of the car. “Too much abuse negates the body’s reaction,” he added, all too familiar with the medical reasoning. He leaned on the door.

“Where to?” he asked tiredly. His face was gray, and his shoulders hunched as he cradled his arm and babied his ribs.

“Elevator,” Henninger said. “Come on. When we get upstairs, I’ll call Ross and Sears, fill them in.”

“What for?” Zane asked, voice sharpening in surprise.

“Backup,” Ty answered in almost a whisper as he slid under Zane’s good arm and urged him to walk before he fell over.

“What for?” Zane repeated as they made their way to the elevator. He wasn’t leaning on Ty as much, but he was still dizzy and wobbly.

“They’re going to babysit you,” Henninger offered.

Zane stopped dead in his tracks. “What!?” he barked.

Ty winced and tightened his hold. “Thank you, Henninger,” he snapped in annoyance. “Garrett, come on before you fall over.”

“This conversation is not over,” Zane growled as he got to walking again.

Henninger got to the elevator first and hit the up button. “Come on, Garrett, be realistic. You can’t go out in the field in this condition. You’re dead weight now,” he observed clinically.

Ty winced again at the delivery of the logic, but he knew it was true.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Zane. “It’s this or the hospital, either way with a guard detail. You ain’t going back in the field,” he declared with finality.

Zane didn’t answer as they got into the elevator, and he didn’t say anything the rest of the way to the apartment. His face was strained and white as they went inside.

Henninger pointed them toward the bedroom. “This is a restored building from the turn of the century, so the doorways are wide; that ought to help,” he said. “I love the architecture.”

Ty nodded disinterestedly.

“The parking garage was the best perk,” Henninger rambled on. “Not many buildings like this have them. And they even kept the original tunnels below the building intact for storage units. Nobody uses them, though. They used to be—”

“Fascinating,” Ty grunted as he guided Zane toward the bedroom.

The bed was made neatly, with an almost military precision that even a Marine could appreciate. The room, like the rest of the apartment, was uncluttered, almost Spartan in its simplicity. Somehow, it didn’t fit the image he had of Henninger. “Garrett?” he breathed as he helped him to the bed.

Lowering himself to the edge of the bed, Zane looked up slowly, not at Ty, but at the other agent. Henninger took a step back. “Uh. I’ll go call the others and get them over here,” he said before disappearing.