Divide & Conquer (Cut & Run #4)(14)
Author: Abigail Roux

“Thats terrible,” Zane murmured as he looked at the mess of tape that practically cocooned Tys hand.

“It is terrible, Zane! We were only up by one!”

Zane chuckled as he got the truck moving. “Put your seatbelt on,” he reminded. “Its a good half-hour ride to your place.” Ty nodded and buckled with difficulty. “Were you busy?” “No, its fine,” Zane said, glancing at Ty as he drove. “I was just working on casefile details. Slow night.” He didnt mention hed merely been passing time waiting for Ty to get home and call him to come over. The softball season had been going strong for two weeks now. Zane would have gone to watch the games, but hed been trapped by the latest PR events for Baltimore business professionals. He wrinkled his nose. Yet one more work commitment keeping him and Ty apart. He truly resented not being able to watch Ty in action.

“Can you stay with me?” Ty asked, his brow furrowing worriedly.

“Of course I can.”

“I cant be alone when I take these things,” Ty told him, waving a small paper packet Zane assumed contained pills of some kind. Zane frowned, feeling a twinge of worry. “Why not? Besides the whole falling-over-loopy thing.” Tys reactions to drugs ranged from hysterically funny to frighteningly horrific, and Zane wasnt taking any chances. He hated to say he enjoyed Ty when he was drugged, because it usually made his partner sick. But before that he was like a big teddy bear, warm and open and steadfast and sweet.

“Well, that and sometimes I… quit breathing,” Ty explained in an offhand manner as he looked out the trucks window. Zane went absolutely cold and gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “What?” he asked, tone rising and sharp with surprise.

“Just a little, like my body forgets it needs air,” Ty offered with the same maddeningly carefree attitude he handled all the possibly lifethreatening situations he found himself in. “And usually not for long.”

“Jesus f**king Christ, Ty, dont you think thats something I should know?” Zane asked, voice coming out harsh with worry. “But I just told you,” Ty said in a hurt voice. “When youve already taken something?” Zane sucked in a breath and forced himself to relax, but his pulse had jumped and was now racing. “Well, now Im really glad you called me, because the EpiPens are all at your place.”

“Sorry,” Ty offered sincerely.

Zane sighed as he stopped the truck at a red light and reached out to ghost his fingers over Tys shoulder. He shook his head slightly. Just the idea of losing Ty threatened to knock Zane over. When they got to the house, he was finding one or two of those injectors Ty had stashed all over and keeping at least one within easy reach at all times. Tys weird allergic reactions were off the charts when they happened, and Zane needed to be better prepared.

“Itll be okay. The hot paramedic chick gave me her number to call if I needed help,” Ty continued, his good hand weakly chasing Zanes. “She plays first base.”

“Thats nice.”

“Id rather be with you.”

Zane struggled to tamp down the worry. “Thats good to hear. Youd never tell me that if you werent drugged, I bet.” “Nope!” Ty told him happily. He looked over at Zane with a nearly serene smile. Zane leaned over and captured Tys full lips in a quick yet warm kiss before stepping on the gas pedal. “I should tell you more often,” Ty whispered, not moving from where Zane left him, the side of his head resting against the seat.

Zane stared out the windshield at the busy street as he drove. After a long silence, he reached out to catch Tys good hand and pull it around to kiss the dirt-stained knuckles. “I wouldnt mind hearing it more often,” he said, the words coming out hoarser than he expected.

When Ty didnt answer, Zane squeezed his hand gently and moved it, noticing Tys arm was limp. He looked over to see Ty still slumped sideways, dozing, breaths ragged but steady. Zane couldnt help but roll his eyes and smile. He kept Tys hand in his and set them on his right thigh as he focused on getting them home.

T O GET into the baseball complex, Pierce would either have to pick the lock or park his car on the street and risk getting a ticket as he climbed over the fence. He knew his crime history. Too many people got caught because they parked in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was one car in the locked lot, an old Ford Bronco with vintage stickers on the windows. Pierce knew who it belonged to: that brazen federal agent who had called him out on the local news.

Pierce did his research. He even knew the mans name. Grady. Tyler Grady. Pierce sneered as he thought about the newscast. Man had one hell of a nerve to talk shit when he didnt even have any leads. But Pierce had plans for him now too. He didnt know why the truck had been left behind, but it would save him the trouble of having to find Gradys address.

Grady wasnt the only thing hed researched. Hed also Googled how to pick locks, and he was reasonably sure he could do it. The others stayed in the car as he tried his hand at it.

He could hear them growing more and more impatient, heckling him through the open windows as he struggled with the lock-pick set hed bought on eBay. Finally he cursed and jogged back to the SUV.

“I cant get it,” he told his companions. He pointed at Ross and Hannah in the backseat. “You two stay in the car. If anyone comes by, light a blunt and start making out, got it?” They looked mutinous about being left behind, but nodded.

He beckoned to Graham, the last member of their enterprising little group, to accompany him. Then Pierce took the equipment out of the back, handed off one of the bags, and carried the other as they made their way over the barrier into the parking lot and toward the first softball field, where all the municipal league games were being played.

When they got to home plate, Pierce gingerly pulled the homemade bomb from the bag and set it beside him on the ground, smiling at it with no small amount of pride.

“We have to dig it up?” Graham asked. Even in the shadows it was easy to see the sour look on his face. “We have to hide it,” Pierce said glibly. Hed already explained all this, there was no way he was doing it again, not out here in the open when time was of the essence.

Graham grumbled and complained as they went to work, digging up home plate. By the time they had a big enough space under the plate for the device to fit, they were both covered in sweat and a fine layer of red dust. They wedged the device into the hole, both of them straining to set it just so. It had to be perfect, or the pressure switch on the top wouldnt activate unless someone stood on top of it and danced.