It was a large bomb. Big enough to leave a crater where home plate was and kill everyone in a ten-foot radius even if it was underground when it went off. Pierce belatedly realized that they wouldnt be able to hide all the excess dirt, and he frowned heavily as he mopped at his brow. The air was cold against his skin, but the adrenaline was combating the bitter chill. Their plan was working so far, and no one was the wiser yet because he planned ahead. That was why, after the first couple of bombs had gone smoothly, hed set up the dry run at the aquarium—easy enough, since he worked there part time—to check the citys adjusted emergency response.
“Start putting that extra dirt in the bag. Ill set the switch,” he ordered.
“Cant we just spread it out?”
“These are cops, man. They only way they wont notice if theres like ten pounds of extra dirt out here in the morning is if theyre high.” “Fine,” Graham muttered. “Hurry up. And make sure the plates straight. We still have one more thing to take care of,” Pierce grunted as he eyed the Bronco in the shadows of the parking lot.
Hed show Mr. Mysterious B. Tyler Grady what it was like to be kicked in the ass.
Chapter Four
T HE first thing Ty noticed was that it was hot. The air he inhaled, whatever he was sprawled on, what was thrown over him—including a heavy body that lay against him; it was all stiflingly hot. To add insult to injury, when he cautiously cracked one eye open, it was bright and sunny, because the blinds were only half-drawn.
His head felt like it was full of cotton, and his limbs were heavy and uncooperative. He groaned and began pushing at the covers and the dead weight against him. It shifted almost immediately and rolled away.
“You okay?” Zane said, voice rough with sleep.
“Hot,” Ty grunted accusingly. He pushed at Zane again and winced with the pressure on his sore body. Zane scooted back, and the heat radiating from him faded. He also pushed the blanket down, leaving only the thin cotton sheet over Tys lower body. Ty kicked one leg out and rolled flat, closing his eyes and lifting his chin, sprawling as the cool air hit him.
“Better,” he muttered, though his ears seemed to be buzzing like he was hungover.
Zane shifted around, moving the mattress slightly. “Howre you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” Ty answered plaintively.
“You said a tank, actually.” The bed shifted again, and Zane was off the mattress and moving. “Hurting?” Ty opened his eyes to follow Zane around the room. “A little, yeah,” he admitted. He tried to sit up slowly but gave up on it and eased himself back down with a groan. “A lot. Hungover.”
Zane stopped at his side. “What can I get you?” He was watching Ty in clear concern. Ty waved him off and shook his head, then winced. He closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers across his forehead slowly, massaging and trying to make the cotton feeling go away. It was rare that he felt so crappy he didnt even think about groping Zane when he woke up next to him. “What time is it?”
“About nine.” Ty sat up quickly, instantly regretting it even as he kicked what remained of the sheets away and tried to get out of bed. “Im gonna be late!”
“Late for what? Its Sunday morning,” Zane said, stepping back to get out of Tys way. “The game! Yesterday was just the first round of that stupid Goodwill tournament.” Ty took a step and stopped short as the room wobbled around him. “Whoa.”
Zane was suddenly there, hands under his elbows to help him regain his balance. “Youre going to go back and play after getting hurt last night?” He didnt sound incredulous or even questioning. More like he wanted to be sure he understood correctly.
Ty shook his head and blinked rapidly, then focused on Zane and nodded as he steadied himself. “Im not hurt bad.” “I remember hearing the words „cracked rib.”
“Theyll just stick me in right field or something.”
“Your throwing hand is injured.”
“So Ill use a leftie,” Ty tossed back.
Zane dipped his chin to try to catch Tys eyes. “Its not the being hurt Im worried about.” “What?”
“Youre a little shaky,” Zane pointed out. “Even for right field.” He straightened and let his hands slide from Tys arms. “But if you want to go, Ill take you over there.”
Ty had to agree he probably wasnt in any shape to drive just then, but a few minutes of moving around and being awake would help. He wasnt sure a softball game was really Zanes scene. He knew the skepticism was obvious in his eyes even as he nodded. “The games last a few hours.”
“I do like to watch sports, Ty.” Then Zane winked and gave a slight smile. “Especially the uniform pants.” Ty rolled his eyes and pointed at Zane as he moved toward the bedroom door. “No ogling in front of co-workers,” he warned. He turned and grimaced as his entire body protested. He groaned and leaned against the doorjamb, hanging his head for a moment. “Christ, Im sore,” he muttered.
“If you take the Vicodin, youll be seriously looped,” Zane said helpfully.
Ty winced and looked down at his finger, his other hand settling on his sore ribs.
“Ty, look at me,” Zane requested.
Ty looked up at him obediently, unable to wipe the frown off his face. “If youre hurting, take the pills. You dont stress over drinking beer in front of me anymore. Why stress over this?” He was using logic, and he didnt sound upset.
“Are you sure?” Ty asked anyway. He didnt feel right waving prescription drugs in Zanes face. “Maybe I can just sit the game out. Its not like the world will end if I dont play or anything.”
“Like thatll happen.” Zane shook his head as he chuckled. He snagged a pair of jeans that lay folded on the dresser and walked over to stand in front of him. They were Tys favorite pair, stolen from their last UC operation. They would fit Zane okay; his two to three inches of extra height were mostly in the torso anyway. After a smile, he leaned down to kiss the corner of Tys mouth. “Thank you. For caring enough to worry about it. Now go take the damn pill. Or half of it. A whole will put you back on your ass. Theyre on the bathroom counter.”
Ty muttered as he turned and headed for the bathroom. If he took a half now and another half in a few hours, that would get him through the game, and then hed have the rest of the day to sleep it off before work Monday morning. If he didnt take them, he might be able to gut out the game, but his bruised ribcage was already screaming just from rolling out of bed.