Ball & Chain (Cut & Run 8)

“Oh God,” he whispered, grasping at his chest.

“Ty?”

“I can’t breathe, man. We need to double-time this.”

“What’s going on?” English asked.

“He’s claustrophobic,” Deuce told the others.

“So let’s f**king call for them and get out of here.”

Ty shook his head, but he looked at Deuce almost desperately.

Deuce met his eyes in the light of the flashlights, his jaw jumping. “You promise me you’ll get to them first.”

Ty took a deep breath. “We’ll get to them, Deacon, I swear to you. I swear.”

Deuce handed Ty his flashlight and stepped toward one of the tunnels, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out for the kids. His voice shook as it echoed through the tunnels.

Each man held his breath, waiting. The blood was beginning to roar in Ty’s ears when a small voice echoed along the corridor. Deuce gasped.

“Go!” Ty whispered harshly. He pointed at English. “Go, go!”

The three men started down the corridor in pursuit of the child’s call. Ty took a moment from his panic to admire their precision. He really hoped none of them turned out to be bad guys, because he liked all three men, and he hated killing people he liked.

Deuce tugged Ty’s good arm. “Come on, Ty, hold on a little longer.”

Ty ran with him, helping Deuce on his bad leg and relying on his brother to lead him through the obscure, cramped spaces.

A silenced gunshot boomed through the passages ahead of them, followed by shouts and cries that seemed to echo and multiply. Deuce cursed and quickened their pace. Ty had no idea how his leg was keeping up. He supposed the concern of a parent overrode everything else. Their flashlight bounced off beams from the Snake Eaters’ lights, and they came upon all three men taking cover at an intersecting passage. The muffled wailing of a baby came from around the corner.

“Who’s shooting?” Ty called.

“Kid shot at us when we tried to open the door,” Frost answered. “They’re locked up in a room, looks like an old root cellar.”

Ty glanced at Deuce and nodded for him to go around the corner. “Call out, tell them who you are.”

“Cooper! It’s Deacon, buddy, we’re here to take you back. Open the door, okay?”

Ty heard the boy’s muffled response through the hole he’d shot in the thick door. “Nick told me not to open the door unless someone gave us the password! You might be with someone who’s making you say it’s okay!”

Deuce looked back at Ty, eyebrows raised.

“Goddamn it, Nick,” Ty grunted. He closed his eyes against the thought of the narrow passages pressing down on him. “Fucking password.”

“Smart kid,” English said. He was still crouching against the wall, his gun and flashlight in his hands, his large body stooped and hunched to fit into the narrow corridor.

Ty closed his eyes. He was beginning to hyperventilate, struggling for the breath to stay calm, to keep his mind clear. He’d never make it out of these f**king tunnels if he didn’t leave soon. Now. They had to get those kids out and moving right now. “Cooper, open the door!” he shouted. “It’s Ty and Deacon, kid, we need to get you back to your parents!”

“What’s the password?” Cooper shouted back.

“Damn it,” Ty hissed.

“That’s not it!”

Frost and Park both covered their mouths to muffle their laughter.

Deuce took Ty’s good arm. “Come on, Ty, you know Nick better than anyone. What f**king password would he give these kids?”

Ty shook his head, gasping for breath. He groped at the stone walls, searching for something solid. Cool and solid and immovable. Something strong enough to hold up the thousands of pounds of dirt and rock above them. “Oh God.”

Deuce grabbed him and pulled him toward the door, grasping Ty’s face in both hands. “Breathe, brother, come on. Calm your mind. Think. Please, Ty, my baby is in there.”

They could hear Amelia wailing inside the room. The gunshot had come from the silenced weapon Nick had taken off the nanny, but it had still probably been incredibly loud and frightening in that enclosed rock room.

Enclosed and locked.

Enclosed, locked, and under tons and tons of rock.

Ty rested his forehead against the thick wooden door and fought the urge to be sick. Deuce’s hand was on his shoulder, squeezing, keeping him grounded, but his head was swirling with panic and terror.

What word would Nick give them? One word to let them know they were safe. One word he would trust someone else to say to them in his absence, since he’d fully expected to be killed or at least maimed by Fraser when he left them. One word. One word that, in Nick’s mind, meant everything.

Ty took in a deep breath. “Oohrah.”

Zane and Kelly sat together on a bench seat in the great hall, watching the door to the game room in silence. The walls were so thick, they couldn’t really hear anything from inside. Zane was thankful for that much.

“I should be down there helping look for Amelia,” Zane insisted.

“You should be right here,” Kelly said. “When Nick gets answers, we’ll need you here. Ty’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

Zane glanced at him, trying to convince himself Kelly was right. If Fraser gave them information, Zane was the only one who had enough pieces of the puzzle to do anything with it.

He cleared his throat. “When Nick gets answers. You really think he’ll be able to?”

“Nick has extensive experience with, uh . . . enhanced interrogation techniques,” Kelly said, his voice flat.

“What?”

“The alternative set of procedures?” Kelly said, turning his head to meet Zane’s eyes. He wasn’t smiling.

“What the f**k are you talking about?”

“Torture. Nick was trained to torture.” Kelly returned his gaze to the door, his expression unchanging.

Zane stared at his profile for several seconds before turning his attention back to the door.

Darkness had fully set in, but they’d lit every fireplace, candle, hurricane lamp, and lantern they could gather. It made the mansion feel truly gothic, with flames flickering everywhere, shadows being cast in all directions, and the fireplaces crackling and giving off enough warmth to make walking into a room feel like coming in out of the cold.

Zane would have really enjoyed a blackout like this, in a place like this, if it weren’t for all the dead bodies piling up in the freezer.