Stars & Stripes (Cut & Run 6) - Page 79/87

Zane lowered the shotgun.

“I saw the fire,” Joe stuttered when he realized Zane had almost shot him.

“Got bigger problems than that.” Zane knelt back down to peer under the truck.

A bullet hit the door, striking inches from his ear. He hit the dirt. “Jesus!”

Another bullet impacted where his head had been.

“Zane, go!” Ty yelled. “He’s in the corral, get inside!”

Zane and Joe scurried around the truck to the other side, putting it between them and the sniper in the corral. Zane looked under the truck to see Ty lying flat, sawing at the jagged piece of his cast that had caught on the undercarriage.

“Come on, Ty.”

“It’s not exactly easy under here. How close is the fire to the gas tank?”

“Too close. Come on, baby.”

Ty yanked at his arm, but his elbow just hit the ground. He couldn’t find any leverage to get free, and the knife was small and dull.

“It’s not coming free.”

“Come on, Ty!”

A shot pinged off the top of the truck.

“Where’s Cody?” Ty asked through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know.”

“We were heading out to look for the cavern under the pump house when the gunfire started. They either shot him or he shot me.”

“What?” Joe shouted as he flattened to look under the truck as well.

“Jesus Christ!”

“What cavern?” Joe demanded, his voice going higher.

“Mark’s inside, it’s not him,” Zane told Ty.

“Then it’s got to be Cody!” Ty shouted. He yanked at his hand in frustration, to no avail.

Zane reached under the truck to see if he could help, but Ty was too far away. His fingers just barely grazed Ty’s shoulder, and no matter how much he stretched, Zane couldn’t grasp him. It was his worst fear come to life, watching helplessly as his lover struggled to get free.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Joe demanded.

“Someone’s been moving drugs on the ranch,” Zane said through gritted teeth.

“And you thought it was Mark?”

“It’s not. But whoever it is has Sadie.”

“I told you we should have cut this f**king thing off, Zane!” Ty yelled, his voice cracking with frustration.

“I’m sorry!”

There was a scream from inside.

“Go, Zane,” Ty urged as he continued sawing at the cast.

Zane was torn between staying there to cover Ty, and going inside to protect his family. He hesitated.

Ty turned his head, his eyes shadowed. “Go, Zane! Go!”

Zane stared at him for a frozen moment, then pushed off the ground and ran for the front door, Joe on his heels. Shots chased them up the steps. Pain seared through his thigh and he stumbled, pitching forward through the door. He rolled across the marble, a streak of blood following him. He grasped at the back of his leg and his hand came away bloody.

Joe kicked the door shut, then knelt with him and began yanking off his belt to staunch the flow of blood.

“Dad!” Zane called out.

“We’re okay!” Harrison shouted back from somewhere in the recesses of the house. Several rooms in the middle of the house had no windows. They’d be safe unless the house caught on fire.

Harrison and Mark hurried out of Harrison’s study, both carrying a shotgun and a rifle, and Harrison knelt next to Zane as Joe pulled the belt tight around Zane’s thigh. Zane shouted in pain, but Joe paid him no mind as he fastened it.

Harrison put his hand on Zane’s shoulder. “Where you hit?”

“Leg. I don’t know if it’s a bullet or a ricochet.”

“Where’s Grady?” Mark asked as they helped Zane off the floor.

“Stuck under the truck. There’s a sniper firing from the corral.”

Harrison’s grip tightened on Zane’s arm. “Where’s Cody?”

“We think he’s in the corral,” Zane said, voice tight.

“What?” Harrison and Mark both cried.

“Hold on, if Ty was with the tiger, and then Cody was with Ty, who has Sadie?” Joe asked. He looked so distraught that his best friend might be behind this that even his mustache seemed to be drooping. His mind was still sharp though, and Zane could see anger and the embers of revenge starting to burn in his normally placid eyes.

Zane shook his head. He had no answer.

The fire in the barn was gaining power, roaring and crackling, and there were men outside shouting over the noise. It was impossible to make out what they were saying.

Zane pulled away from his dad and limped toward a window. He used the barrel of his rifle to push the lace curtain away and peered out. The truck was still on fire, the flames licking ever closer to the gas tank. Whether Ty was still under it or not was anyone’s guess. Three men stood in the yard, shouting at the house. Why wasn’t Ty firing from under the truck? He had the perfect vantage point.

As the fire grew stronger, it illuminated them. They all wore bandanas and hats to hide their faces, like old-time outlaws robbing a bank. One of them held Sadie in his arms. She had her head buried in his shoulder, grasping his neck for dear life.

Anger flooded Zane so fast and hot that his vision went white. Now he understood why Ty hadn’t fired from his position under the truck.

“My baby,” Mark whispered. The desperation in his voice tore at Zane’s heart.

“Garrett!” Blue Bandana yelled over the sound of the fires burning.

“You recognize them?” Zane asked his father.

Harrison shook his head. “Hard to say.”

Zane looked from Sadie to the truck, his heart hammering away. He tried to decide how much time they had before the fire reached the gas tank and it blew, or before it reached the undercarriage and Ty.

“We just want to talk, Harrison!” Red Bandana called out.

“That’s what the telephone is for, you bastards!” Harrison shouted through the glass.

Zane grabbed him and yanked him away from the window, but the men outside didn’t fire. Zane and the others pressed against the wall, waiting. There was movement outside, scuffling and talking and cursing. Every second they waited was a second Ty didn’t have. And then there was Sadie.

A gunshot cracked, then another. Zane jumped with each one. When he glanced out the window, one of the men was at the truck. They’d found Ty. Zane lurched toward the door, but Joe grabbed his shoulder to keep him from going out there. Another shot came from the truck, and then Blue Bandana stood and began pulling on one end of a lasso.