Touch & Geaux (Cut & Run 7)

“In that case, our only avenue is to search for him here,” Liam said, tapping the table. “If he’s dead, we’re no use to him. And if he’s sitting somewhere safe, he’s no use to us.”

Nick tucked his gun into the back of his jeans. “So we go to the Lower Ninth Ward and split up.”

“No, the hell we will,” Owen growled. He pointed at Liam. “Last time we split up, this bastard ran away, Doc got shot, and Grady disappeared. We stay together.”

Nick studied him for a long moment and finally nodded. “We need a plan if we find the place. How do we take it?”

Zane gripped the back of a chair. “Shock and awe.”

“Care to explain?” Nick asked.

Zane nodded and locked eyes with Liam “I want it. Right now.”

Liam raised both eyebrows and sat forward. “Pardon?”

“Your jacket is armored and your boots are for riding. Where’s your bike?”

Ty worked the ropes at his wrists as Gaudet and his son argued, taking fast, shallow breaths, trying desperately to fake an allergic reaction.

“Hey!” he finally croaked. He shook his shoulders from side to side. “Get these ropes . . . off my chest . . . so I can f**king breathe!”

“The hell you say,” Shine growled. “Let him die, what’s the problem? We’re going to kill him anyway!”

Gaudet smacked Shine on the side of the head. “I need information before I can let him kick off. Where’s that doohickey Ava gave you?”

Ty groaned. A woman scorned was nothing to mess with. He’d remember that if he lived.

Shine began to dig in his pockets. “She found it in his room at the bar,” he said, pulling out one of the EpiPens.

“Shoot him with it,” Gaudet ordered.

“Oh hell no,” Ty gasped. He shook his head violently as Shine turned the cylinder over and frowned at it. “Might as well . . . let him loose . . . with a Ginsu!”

“You’re awfully particular for someone who’s dying.”

Shine put his hand on Ty’s shoulder and flicked the cap off the EpiPen cylinder. He pulled it back, preparing to stab it right into Ty’s chest.

“No, no, no!” Ty wheezed. “Jesus Christ!”

“What?”

“You can’t inject . . . adrenaline . . . right into my heart. You dumb f**k!”

Shine turned it over in his hand and glanced at his father, who rolled his eyes. “Let me have it. You got to take it out of the case.”

“I thought you just stab it in.”

“But that’s just the case, boy. Let me have it.” Gaudet took it from Shine and slid the EpiPen from its case.

“Blue end,” Ty told him.

“Shut up.”

“It ain’t a needle,” Shine muttered. “Let’s just give him a sack to breathe in.”

“His throat’s closing up.”

“So we put a hole in his throat and he can breathe again.”

“Instructions . . . on it!” Ty managed. “Flip the blue . . . jab the orange . . . hold it—”

“Shut up!” Gaudet turned it over and tapped it.

Ty took a deep, rasping breath.

“Fuck it, untie one of his hands,” Gaudet finally ordered.

“You sure about that?”

Gaudet nodded, and Shine pulled a large hunting knife from a sheath at his thigh. He waved the knife in Ty’s face. “Try anything, I’ll gut you.”

Ty nodded jerkily. Shine cut through the rope around his left wrist and stepped back. Gaudet handed him the EpiPen. He flipped the end and gripped it tight, raising it above his thigh to jam it in. But instead of his own thigh, he swung his arm out and jabbed the injector into Gaudet’s chest.

The man stumbled back, pawing at the EpiPen. Shine followed, taking his arm to steady him.

“Oh, that’s gonna do so many bad things to your heart,” Ty said as he began laughing. He reached across his lap to pull at the rope that bound his right hand.

Shine yanked the EpiPen out. He threw it to the ground and it shattered as it skidded across the floor. Gaudet grabbed at his chest, doubling over.

“He’s having a heart attack, Shine,” Ty said, his voice low and urgent. “Better get him out of here, Shine.”

Shine rounded on him, the knife clutched in his huge hand. “I’m gonna make you bleed, Beaumont.”

“They’ll bury me right beside your daddy, bubba!”

Shine hesitated, and behind him, Gaudet was taking deep breaths and clutching at his chest. He waved his hand at Shine, as if telling him to go ahead and kill Ty. Shine held the knife close to his body and gripped Ty’s shoulder, preparing to stick him, but Ty grabbed Shine’s biceps, locking his elbow as Shine pushed forward. He gritted his teeth and put every ounce of strength he had into keeping that knife at bay, but he hadn’t managed to loosen his other arm, his feet were still bound to the chair, and Shine was laughing at him, pushing the tip inexorably closer to Ty’s chest.

He didn’t have to push forward to hurt Ty. He could have sliced at Ty’s forearm to loosen his grip. He could have wrenched away and come from behind to slit his throat. He could have easily killed him in so many ways, but Shine continued to push against him instead, forcing Ty to fight for his life. Ty’s fingers worked frantically at the loose ropes on his other wrist. With his feet tied, he couldn’t get any leverage. Shine laughed. He was enjoying the slow march of death as Ty lost the battle.

The knife touched the material of Ty’s shirt and he shouted wordlessly, digging deep for more strength where he knew he would find none. Fighting for his life against a man who merely wanted to play with it.

The knife broke skin. Ty pushed back against the chair, desperate for more inches. His life didn’t flash before his eyes. His evil deeds didn’t come back to haunt him, nor did any of the good he’d done revisit him. He didn’t find added strength in thoughts of the future or memories of the past. He didn’t see his family, or his teammates, or the faces of men he’d comforted as they’d died. The only face he saw as the knife bit into him was Zane’s.

“Ty?”

Ty cried out again. He didn’t know where Zane’s voice had come from, but he pushed harder against Shine’s arm, desperate to hear it again.

“Zane!”

An engine revved somewhere close. Shine pulled back, his head shooting up at the sound.

Gaudet had finally recovered from the rush of epinephrine and adrenaline enough to hit Shine in the back. “Do him!”