Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(120)
Author: Abigail Roux

From inside there was a clank of chains and a soft groan.

Zane frantically started pulling at the bricks, easily ignoring how they scraped and cut into his hands. The bricks reluctantly pulled loose; the mortar was closer to setting than not. When he had a rough opening, Zane leaned over with the lighter.

“Ty?” he rasped, pulse pounding with adrenaline.

Ty was strapped to the wall of the tiny alcove, his hands stretched out to the sides and above his head, blood running down them and clotting at his wrists. His feet were spread shoulder-width apart, shackled to the wall so that he couldn’t even kick out, and a rope around his chest kept him from sagging forward. Everywhere the restraints touched him, there was blood. His head was bowed, his chin resting on his chest, and his fingers hung limply from his shackled hands. He didn’t move, but a small groan told Zane that he was still alive. Barely.

Glancing around inside the alcove, Zane saw the plastic and the bucket of mortar. He cursed under his breath before seeing the candle and a rusted set of iron keys. “That son of a bitch,” he breathed. Leaning over the bricks, he reached to light the candle so he could pocket the lighter and start digging at the bricks again. The drugs filtering through his system built up his manic concern, and he worked feverishly, heedless of the pain or his ever-increasing heart rate and lightheadedness. Once the hole was big enough that he could get a leg in and duck under, he did so, which put him right up against his partner. There wasn’t much room. There wouldn’t have been much air, either, and just standing there made him claustrophobic.

“Ty?” he whispered, gently cupping his chin and raising it, praying he wasn’t too far gone. Ty’s head was heavy in his hand. But another groan came from his cracked, dry lips and he stirred.

Breaths harsh, Zane carefully lowered Ty’s chin before moving to grasp for the keys he had seen lying on the ground. Fussing and cursing the locks, he started with Ty’s feet, then moved to unlock the shackles on one bloody and cut-up wrist.

He’d struggled, Zane noted with a lurch of his stomach. Oh, Lord, he’d struggled. Zane’s heart hurt with the mere idea of how hard Ty must have fought to cut into his wrists and chest like he had. When Ty’s body sagged, Zane draped the free arm over his shoulder and fought to unlock the last shackle. The other man collapsed against him. Trying to pull him free, though, Zane couldn’t get him away from the wall. He fingered the rope, and with a growl pulled out one of his knives and cut through it. Glancing to the uneven hole, he gathered Ty against him and turned them both toward it.

“Zane,” Ty breathed pitifully, the tortured sound barely audible.

The sound of his name almost tore Zane’s heart out. “I’m here, baby.

I’m getting you out of here,” he promised.

Ty seemed to be coming around, gasping at the stale air as if it were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. “Are you real?” he asked Zane as he tightened his weak grip. His words were hardly recognizable.

Zane’s laugh was tinged with a little desperation. “Yeah. I’m as real as it gets, baby,” he answered, stopping at the bricks. He drew several fast breaths, gritted his teeth, and lifted Ty totally from the ground. He moved very slowly and cautiously to step over the broken wall, setting his feet amongst the tumbled bricks, where he stumbled.

Ty’s feet hit the uneven ground as Zane set him down, and he sank to his hands and knees. “Henninger,” he gasped as his head swam. “It’s Henninger,” he said urgently, his voice still hoarse and abused from the harsh chloroform and the desperate shouting for help.

Collapsing to his knees beside him, both of Zane’s hands hit the ground in an attempt to catch himself. The jarring didn’t hurt, and neither had the lifting. Instead, he felt hot, dizzy, and lightheaded. His pulse raced dangerously, and his gut burned with nausea. He was buzzing all over. He knew what was happening.

“Dead. He’s dead,” Zane bit out viciously as he tried to remember when he’d last eaten anything solid and how many of what kind of pills he’d taken. There had been a whole handful, but his memory seemed bright and fuzzy.

Ty blinked at the man, both of them on their hands and knees and looking as if they’d just lost the fight rather than won it. He swallowed and nodded, unable to think of anything to say as confused relief washed through him.

Zane curled his hand around Ty’s, looking up with glazed eyes. “I’ve got to get you out of here,” he said roughly as another strong swell of adrenaline and haze swamped him. He just barely quelled the impulse to laugh hysterically. “Running out of time.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Ty asked. His head was clearing and he was beginning to actually function once more. “Did he hurt you?”

Zane managed to shake his head and climb awkwardly to his feet, helping Ty up as well, and they leaned heavily on each other as they started moving toward the dim light. Zane was sweating now, and his arms and hands were clammy and trembling even where he held Ty tightly. “After I took him out, I could hardly move. I took the pills you left me so I could find you.”

“All of them?” Ty asked in horror.

Zane actually laughed; a high, thin noise totally unlike him.

“You’ve overdosed,” Ty murmured. “Fuck,” he groaned as he tried to gather his strength and take more of Zane’s weight. He stumbled with the attempt.

Managing a weak chuckle, Zane tried to hold on, but his entire body was shaking uncontrollably. “I’ve had worse.” Not really, though…. “Had to get here. Had to find you.” He lurched to the side as dizziness hit him, and both men fell to their knees, neither one strong enough to fully support the other. “You were in the dark.”

They stayed there wallowing for too many moments before Ty pushed himself up and grabbed Zane’s uninjured arm to pull him to his feet weakly. “Come on,” he murmured. “I thought I’d never see daylight again; I can’t die in here with you now.”

Zane laughed again. “Daylight. I’ve already got stars in my eyes,” he drew out as he stumbled along beside Ty. He swallowed hard as they emerged into the basement. “Ty…,” he gasped weakly.

“Don’t,” Ty growled almost angrily, his knees weak and his hands numb from being without blood for too long. “Don’t you dare.”

Jerking away, Zane turned and fell to his knees to retch violently, too far into the drugs to be embarrassed or concerned. All he could do was try to breathe. Behind him, Ty sagged to his knees again, unable to remain standing.