“Trust me,” Digger told him. “This is New Orleans. Nobody’ll bat an eye.”
“Let’s kick it, Garrett,” Ty said in Zane’s ear.
Zane didn’t waste more time with goodbyes. He gunned the bike away from the house, winding their way through the streets toward the hulking wasteland of Six Flags New Orleans.
The noise of the motorcycle signaled their arrival, and that was exactly how Zane had wanted it. All eyes on them. The front gate of the park had been cut and left ajar, and Zane used the bike to plow through it. He came to a halt in the park entrance, stunned by the shape of the place.
The map had shown a happy amusement park set up in a vague circle around a center pond. On the far side was a large body of water, abutted by an area of the park called Pontchartrain Beach. It was a long, wide thoroughfare, and that was where Zane had told Valencia and Gaudet to meet him.
But the map hadn’t prepared him for the park itself: an urban badlands, left to hold its own against the elements and urban explorers with spray paint.
“Jesus, Ty, you know how to pick them,” Zane muttered.
“Is it as creepy as it feels? ’Cause I can’t see shit through this thing.”
Zane nodded.
Main Street Square was built to mimic the architecture of the French Quarter. It boasted stunning colors and Creole townhouses with sweeping galleries, but it was all covered in graffiti and debris. Weeds encroached. Huge pots sprouted weeds and saplings, and many had “NOLA Rising” written on them. Zane couldn’t take his eyes off the crumbling façades. Left to their own devices, the buildings had begun to tear themselves apart.
“Zane,” Ty whispered. His arms tightened around Zane’s chest. “We can’t linger.”
Zane gave a curt nod and maneuvered the bike through the trash and detritus along the causeways. Other parts of the park were in even worse shape, and Zane pushed the motorcycle faster, not liking the feeling the park gave him. When they reached the bend that began Pontchartrain Beach, Zane stopped the bike, and Ty pulled his hands over Zane’s head so they could dismount. Zane grabbed the rope between Ty’s hands and looked at him. The garish red smiley face grinned back.
He walked Ty ahead of him, jerking him by his arm, shoving him around debris in his path.
Five men in pristine suits stood to one side of Pontchartrain Beach, their backs to the swampland behind them. Under an awning on the other side of the wide causeway, Gaudet and his very large son stood with two men in uniform. And Ava. Her eyes were red and her face was puffy. She took an involuntary step toward them when they appeared. Her brother held her back.
Zane pulled Ty closer, standing just behind him, a gun jammed into his ribs. Faded blue waves were painted all over the pavement, as if he and Ty were submerged in some surreal river, and several feet away was the large X Liam had marked on the ground.
Zane stepped beside Ty and turned him, then swept the pillowcase off Ty’s head. He met his eyes one last time, trying to memorize every fleck of gold, every imperfection and quirk. There was fear in Ty’s eyes, and Zane’s resolve almost left him. But he shoved him, making him stumble toward the X.
“Xander,” Mateo Valencia said. He stepped forward, his arms spread wide. “Or should I say, Zane?”
“Call me whatever you want. I’m not here to chat. I’m here to end this.”
“A position I share,” Valencia said. He ran a hand along the scar on his cheek, the one Zane had given him years ago. “Tell me why I should not just kill everyone here and leave?”
Gaudet pulled his gun, and his men followed suit. “You can try it.”
“That’s exactly what I want to avoid,” Zane shouted. “One death! That’s all we need here. And I have just the man for it.” He gave Ty another shove, closer to the X. “Commander Gaudet, you know this man as Tyler Beaumont. He has information you need, am I right?”
“That’s right.”
“And Mateo, the only thing you need is the man who killed Antonio. Muerto. Si?”
“Claro que si.”
“So what’s the problem?” Zane asked.
“What is it you’re getting out of this, cowboy?” Gaudet asked.
Zane opened his mouth to speak, but Valencia beat him to it. “He is one of ours. A thorn the FBI inserted into our paw. A thorn we removed and sent back to them with poison in him.”
Zane hated the sound of that, but he kept a stony face.
“And I want out from under de la Vega. This is my ticket. Do we have a deal?”
“It is agreeable to me.”
“And I’m guessing you want out of my city with a free pass, huh?” Gaudet asked.
Zane nodded.
“Fine.”
“Let us get this done with,” Valencia called.
Zane took a shaky breath. Nerves were building. “Gaudet, what is it you want to know?”
Gaudet stepped forward, but not too far from the protection of the others. “The information you gathered, Beaumont. What happened to it?”
Ty shook his head.
Gaudet gripped Ava by the arm, pulling her forward. “Talk some damn sense into him.”
She took a ragged, unsteady breath. It was loud in the silence of the dead park. “Ty,” she said with difficulty. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.” She began walking toward him.
Zane saw her father raise his arm, his gun trained on her back. His body jerked, but thankfully Ty reacted before he could.
“No!” he called.
Ava startled and whirled to face her father. She stumbled back when she saw him lowering his gun. “Daddy?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, darlin’. Make that boy talk.”
“Okay!” Ty shouted. His voice broke. “Okay. Cher, viens à moi.”
Zane had heard Ty whisper enough French to understand that order: Come to me. Ava didn’t hesitate, and Ty caught her and stepped in front of her, shielding her. Tears were streaming down her face, but Zane saw her slip a small blade into Ty’s palm. Zane shook his head. They hadn’t anticipated this. Who the hell would’ve expected the man to threaten his own daughter? He licked his lips, glancing to the swamp. If this went to hell, that swamp was their only hope.
Liam made a low whistling sound through the device in Zane’s ear. “Little touch and go there, lads. Who do I shoot first if things go to hell?”
Zane made a shushing sound.
“The information you gathered?” Gaudet demanded.