Cut & Run (54 page)

Ty perked up and stared at him expectantly. The buzzer beside the door rang, and Henninger started toward the intercom to answer it. “Well?”

Ty demanded impatiently. “Where’d they find it?”

“Not two blocks from here,” Henninger answered with a grin as he pushed the button that would let Sears and Ross in.

Adrenaline began to pump through Ty’s body as the prospect of catching the man became more plausible. If they had the cab, then they could follow the trail. And Ty could track anything and anyone, whether it was in backwoods, desert, or the streets of New York City, he was confident of that fact. They had him.

Cut & Run | 329

It was only a minute or so before Sears and Ross stepped through the door, but waiting for them to arrive was torturous. As they waited, Ty and Henninger stood at the large windows that lined the far side of the apartment, and Henninger explained to him what was around the neighborhood as they formed a plan of action.

“Grady, I can’t say it’s good to see you again,” Special Agent Sears greeted, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “How is he?” she asked with real concern.

“He’s hurt bad,” Ty answered grimly.

Ross stood at her side, looking annoyed. “We tried calling you,” he said to Henninger.

“This building’s got shitty reception,” Henninger muttered uncomfortably as he looked at his phone that had never rung.

Ty nodded at them both, suddenly very aware of the splatters of blood from the crash that spotted his rumpled clothing and the fact that he looked like he’d been tumbled on high spin for an hour. It seemed to him that it spoke of his failures so far, that he hadn’t even been able to protect his partner, much less catch the killer he’d been set on.

“Thank you for coming,” he said to them both quietly, not a trace of apology or embarrassment in his tone. There was impatience, however, and he was practically vibrating in his shoes.

Sears looked over him, but didn’t comment. “We can stay a couple hours before they start asking us where the hell we’ve disappeared to,” she said apologetically. “So you better get going unless we make this official.”

“I left our notes on the case in there with Garrett,” Ty told her gruffly.

The unspoken reason—in case neither of them lived long enough to share what they’d found—wasn’t lost on anyone. “And there’s a stack of personnel files here that has the name of our killer in it somewhere,” he added as he pointed to the files Henninger had put on the coffee table.

Henninger nodded and glanced between them uncomfortably. “You want to change your shirt, Grady?” he asked finally, eyes drifting over the small amount of blood.

Ty glanced at him and then quietly shook his head. “There’ll be more on it when we’re done,” he said in a low, soft voice.

Ross and Sears glanced at each other. “Don’t hesitate to call in backup,” Sears reminded disapprovingly.

330 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

Henninger nodded, turned to grab a small bag, and led the way out the door and to the elevator.

Neither man spoke as they headed out of the apartment. They rode down in the elevator in silence, Henninger glancing at Ty every few seconds as if wishing to say something. Finally, as the elevator came to a jolting stop at the parking deck floor, he cleared his throat and said, “Before we start this, I just want you to know, Special Agent Grady, it’s been a real pleasure working with you. Both of you.”

Ty glanced at him as the doors whooshed quietly open. “Likewise,”

he said softly to the kid.

He stepped out of the elevator as Henninger gave him an almost shy smile. He looked out into the dark parking deck and stepped forward, but his progress was halted as a hand suddenly covered the lower part of his face. He struggled as he breathed in the sickly sweet scent that covered the handkerchief, but he had already inhaled too much of the chloroform, and he sank helplessly to his knees, not able to reach his gun or even strike out at his attacker.

The last sound he heard was a shout and struggle that seemed to be miles away and a distant thunk as his limp body hit the concrete floor.

Cut & Run | 331

ane laid on Henninger’s bed for a while, dozing, until he started hurting too much to rest. Dragging his eyes open, he spent a long Z minute looking at the bottle of pills Ty had left him. There was nothing more tempting than a bottle of painkillers when you had a legitimate reason to take them, but he didn’t pick them up. Instead, he lurched out of the bed and walked out to the main room to find Ross pacing and Sears sitting and watching her partner calmly.

“Hey,” he rasped.

They both looked at him as if they hadn’t expected to see him at all.

“You shouldn’t be up,” Sears admonished as she stood and made her way over to him. “What do you need?”

“A stiff drink,” Zane muttered, moving to sit in an armchair.

“I would be more comfortable if you returned to the bed,” Sears said to him soothingly, looking over at her partner pointedly.

“Let him sit there if he wants,” Ross replied with a wave of his hand.

“Can I have a drink? Please?” Zane asked pitifully. “I don’t care what. Tap water, anything.”

Sears sighed, accepting the fact that Zane wasn’t planning on listening, and she headed to Henninger’s kitchen as her heels rapped on the wooden floors and echoed to the open ceilings. She began rummaging in the refrigerator as Ross came closer to Zane.

“So, the Bureau sent you in under the radar,” he said to Zane with obvious disdain. “Because they thought we couldn’t handle it on our own?”

Zane rolled his head around carefully. “Because six Bureau personnel had already been killed or injured,” he corrected. “You didn’t happen to work in Baltimore in 2001, did you?”

Ross snorted unhappily but shook his head in answer as he moved away again, pacing restlessly in much the same manner Ty always did. Zane 332 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

watched him with a frown until Sears came out with a glass of sparkling liquid. “This was all I could find besides water,” she said. “It’s pomegranate juice. Figured some sugar might do you good.”

“Thanks,” Zane murmured, taking the glass and a long drink. “So, you two get to babysit me.”

“We’re on the shelf right now, anyway,” Sears answered loudly before Ross could respond. “If we weren’t here,” she went on more gently as she sat on the coffee table opposite Zane and crossed her legs daintily, “we would be drowning in paperwork.”

Zane glanced between the two with a growing smile. Ross grimaced and started pacing again. “Gotta love paperwork,” he commented, eyes actually brightening a little. “Lately, I wish I’d had more of it and less death and destruction.”

Sears reached out and put a hand on his knee gently. “Are you sure you don’t want to be in the hospital?” she asked quietly. “It’s all over the wire, what happened. We could set up a guard there. You’ve got to be in a lot of pain.”

“Christ, Marian, leave the man alone,” Ross huffed. “And stop batting your eyelashes at him,” he added grumpily.

“I am doing no such thing,” Sears responded calmly as she maintained eye contact with Zane. “Did they give you painkillers?” she asked.

Zane looked at her steadily and lied through his teeth without giving anything away. “Yeah, I took some already. And I’m fine. Just worn out.”

Sears narrowed her eyes but then nodded as she accepted what he said for truth. She seemed out of ideas, and she looked up at her partner for help.

Ross, who was still pacing behind Zane restlessly, just shrugged and gestured at him in agitation.

“You should be resting,” Sears insisted as she sat and observed Zane.

She wasn’t just watching him. She was
observing
. It reminded Zane of the way Ty watched people sometimes. Everything seemed to remind him of Ty lately. Ross came around to flop gracelessly into a nearby chair.

Aware of Sears’ interest, Zane let his injured shoulder sag a little and the exhaustion show. No need for them to know exactly how bad of shape he was in … just in case. He wasn’t all that sure about Ross. “You trust Henninger enough to hop to and come running when he calls like that?” he asked. “I barely know the kid.”

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“Henninger’s a better agent than he’s given credit for,” Sears answered neutrally. “If he says he needs help, then he needs help.”

“You barely know the kid and yet he’s your inside contact?” Ross asked dubiously.

“He’s who we got tagged with by the New York office when we got here,” Zane allowed. “When we came back, we used him ’cause he’d helped us before. We needed someone who could get us information fast and dirty.”

“No wonder he’s been so jumpy lately,” Ross laughed softly.

“Poor kid,” Sears added with a fond smile.

“What? He getting flack at the office?” Zane asked.

“Every time there was a loud noise somewhere, he would hit the ceiling,” Sears told him with a smirk she tried to hide. “Apparently, he had a guilty conscience.”

Zane frowned a little. “He seemed okay when he was talking with us,” he murmured. “Huh.” He shifted and slumped in the chair a little. “So.

What’s the story on you two?” he drawled, looking between them.

Both agents looked back at him with suddenly unreadable expressions. Finally, Sears smiled slowly. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she answered.

Zane immediately broke out in wheezing laughter. “You’re joking, right?”

“Come on,” Sears wheedled with a grin. “I’ll spill on my partner if you tell me about yours.”

Zane snorted and peered at Sears as Ross protested noisily. “Watch out,” he told the woman with a smile. “I’ve seen how Grady behaves around a woman. He’s an utter bastard.” He sighed and some of the amusement died away. “As for me,” he said quietly, dropped his eyes, and looked at his ring thoughtfully, “I can’t see another woman without thinking of my wife.”

The teasing dropped away, and Sears smiled softly. “I’m sorry,” she murmured in the tone of voice that said she knew Zane’s wife had died rather than left him.

“You girls finished getting your nails done?” Ross asked with a huff.

“Fuck off, Ross,” Zane bit out, aggravation showing.

“Boys, boys,” Sears murmured as she stood and rolled her eyes.

334 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

Ross snapped his mouth closed and gave Zane an infuriating smirk.

“You look a little restless, Garrett,” he observed with false sympathy.

“Henninger told us about your Poe theory when we demanded to know why he needed us here. Why don’t you explain that one to us if you need something to do?”

Rolling his eyes, Zane glanced over at the wall of bookshelves nearby. “See if you can find a copy of Poe over there,” he requested. “We’ll see what we can find.”

THE sound of scraping and the musty smell of something old and wet were the first things to batter Ty’s senses. He groaned involuntarily and his head lolled, his chin resting on his chest as if he were upright rather than prostrate.

Slowly, with more effort than he liked, he forced one eye open. His eyelid was too heavy, though, and he soon closed it and raised his head to let it rest back against the cold, rough surface behind him. He
was
upright, he realized, but he didn’t understand how he was capable of standing, or even sitting up. He was soon aware of labored breathing that wasn’t his own coming from somewhere close, and then more scraping sounds came with it.

There was an odd, wet sound, followed by a few thuds that echoed hollowly, and more scraping.

“Grady? Special Agent Grady, are you okay?” The unfamiliar voice echoed in the darkness, bouncing around in the damp and distorting in a surreal manner.

Ty wasn’t even sure he had really heard it. “Okay?” he echoed with difficulty. His tongue felt swollen and dry, and his throat was scratchy and painful as he spoke. His head pounded as if his ears had been filled with concrete. He blearily recognized the aftereffects of chloroform, and a cold fear began to twist in his chest.

“Yes, you’re okay. I thought you might talk to me while I work.

Make the time pass faster.”

Ty raised his head slightly, forcing his dry eyes open again and blinking in the weak, flickering light of a candle that was sitting on the floor next to him. It was dark otherwise, utterly so. Not a bit of natural light flowed around him, and the cold and damp gave him the distinct feeling of being in his grandmother’s root cellar.