Zane very slowly raised a hand to his face and covered his cheekbone carefully. He glanced up at Earflaps. He was burly and solid, but Zane figured he could take him down if he had to. He was still aware of Redjacket’s eyes on him. If Redjacket figured out that Ty was invested in any of them, he could use them to force him out of the woods. Ty wouldn’t just sit out there and let any of them be shot. Despite Ty’s little game in Hogan’s Alley, he wouldn’t use any of them for cover, not willingly.
Redjacket looked from Zane to Earl and shook his head, obviously seeing something in one or both of them that didn’t sit right. “Don’t like to be lied to, old man,” he said finally. He nodded at Earflaps and stepped away, holding his gun up and ready.
Earflaps grinned slowly and stepped closer to Zane, pumping the action of his shotgun and then pressing the barrel to Zane’s forehead. Zane felt himself go cold all over. Cold with fear, sure, because this guy looked like he might just enjoy pulling the trigger. But also cold with anger.
“Don’t do this.” Zane’s voice was low and level and not at all shaky. “You won’t like the result.”
“Neither will you, hot shot,” Earflaps muttered to him with a smirk.
“Show yourself, friend!” Redjacket shouted into the woods where Ty had disappeared. “And we won’t blow this man’s brains all over the woods!”
“You pull that trigger, and you won’t live to regret it,” Zane told them quietly. “That’s a promise.”
He was aware of Earl’s attention focusing on him, and Deuce’s, too, but Zane didn’t care what they thought. If Earflaps shot him, Zane had no doubt Ty would kill him. Ty would kill him, and the others, too, in front of his father and brother. It would be messy. And Ty would regret it later, if only because Earl and Deuce had to watch.
“You got to the count a three!” Redjacket called out to Ty. “You ain’t a good enough shot to hit all of us before he dies!”
Zane kept his eyes on Earflaps, willing Ty to make something happen. He wouldn’t take that bet against Ty, not when his family was involved.
“One!” Redjacket started as Earflaps began laughing softly.
“That’s one stupid asshole out there,” Swizzlestick observed in a detached voice. “Gonna get his friend killed.”
“Two!”
Zane was vaguely aware of Earl trying to reason with them, telling them that if they shot Zane there’d be no reason for the man in the woods to hold his fire, but Zane and the men with the weapons all ignored him. Zane was keeping his attention on Earflaps. Although it wasn’t his personal choice in the way to die, he would stare it down. Ty would be pleased with the method, anyway; it would be quick. He hadn’t liked Zane’s preference to die slow.
Redjacket took in a deep breath to shout again, but then Ty stepped into the clearing suddenly, almost ninety degrees from where Redjacket was looking, drawing everyone’s eyes with the movement. Swizzlestick jerked his shotgun around and cocked it at Ty, who stood with his hands above his head obediently. In one hand he held his gun, hanging by the trigger guard off one finger. He dropped the gun as soon as they turned on him and then moved his hand to join the other, which was behind his head already. What he’d been planning to do was anyone’s guess. He obviously hadn’t had enough time or ammo to do anything but surrender.
Zane shifted back onto his elbows from his side to better see Ty. “Quit yer movin’,” Earflaps snarled to him.
Ty stood stock still, watching them all impassively. Zane couldn’t decide if he was glad to see him or disappointed that their last chance at escape might have just evaporated. But he knew better. There was no one better to get them out of this than Ty, even if he was unarmed now. And possibly in the midst of a mental breakdown. He didn’t look like himself, nor had he been behaving like the man Zane knew for some time. Even now, he stood staring at them all sedately, no hint of anger or a challenge in his expression.
“What’re we gonna do now?” Swizzlestick asked as he looked over their four prisoners critically.
Redjacket looked to Earflaps and nodded at Ty, as if giving him an order to go take care of him.
Ty’s eyes slid from Earflaps back to Redjacket. He didn’t appear too worried about the prospect as the big, burly man walked over and hauled off to punch Ty in the gut.
Reflexively, Zane sat up in a shot. Seeing Ty being attacked made something inside him clench, something that made him feel possessive and scared and angry as hell all at once. But the shotgun at his chest stopped him from moving further to help.
Ty didn’t even try to defend himself. He kept his arms over his head. His entire body tensed, and Zane heard him breathe out hard as Earflaps grabbed him by the shoulder and rammed his fist into his stomach. Ty merely turned slightly, letting the punch hit him in his oblique muscles, along the side of his torso. He did everything Zane knew he could to lessen the impact of the direct blow to his torso.
The dull thud of fist hitting hard muscle seemed loud in the small clearing, but Ty barely reacted other than to wince with the impact. The punch should have leveled him. Earflaps looked at Ty in shock as he shook his hand and backed away a step, and Ty smirked at him.
“My turn,” Ty told him with a grin before whipping his left hand around to smash his fist into the man’s face. He held a rock in that hand, the one no one had thought to check. The crack of bone made Zane wince as his own face throbbed in sympathy. Ty could pack a punch, Zane knew from experience. He didn’t want to think about the damage he could do actually wielding something solid. The moose hat went flying and blood gushed down the man’s face as he fell back and landed in the dirt with a dull thump. Swizzlestick turned, raising his shotgun clumsily as he tried to aim it at Ty, and Zane surged to his feet.
Ty turned and threw the fist-sized rock at Swizzlestick, hitting him in the head and knocking him and his shotgun on his ass. Then Ty whirled around, intending to go for the gun he’d dropped.
He came to an abrupt halt when Redjacket calmly stepped up to him with his handgun and aimed it at his head. Something in the man’s eyes must have told Ty he would fire, because Ty slowly put his hands up obediently.
Zane had almost reached the shotgun when Redjacket shouted forcefully. “Stop!” He deliberately pushed the barrel of his .45 under Ty’s chin, forcing Ty’s head back slightly.
Zane froze in place, fists clenched, a scowl on his face that he knew just highlighted the split lip and the quickly darkening bruises along his cheekbone that weren’t hidden by his week’s worth of beard.
“Son of a bitch,” Swizzlestick wheezed from where he sat in the dirt, holding the gash on his head. “Shoot the bastard.” Earflaps whimpered in agreement as he rolled on the ground and bled profusely.
Zane jerked his chin as Redjacket narrowed his eyes at Ty, obviously seriously contemplating doing it. Swizzlestick got to his feet, grabbed his shotgun noisily, and grunted at him in warning. Zane stepped back with his hands up, staring at Redjacket and Ty tensely.
Ty hadn’t moved. He still stood with his hands in the air and his chin slightly raised, looking Redjacket in the eye as the man held the gun under his chin. He seemed to be holding his breath, waiting. For once, it looked like Ty didn’t have any more tricks up his sleeve. Or rocks. He was just waiting to be shot, and the realization scared Zane more than he’d ever thought it would.
Finally, Redjacket moved, reaching out to push Ty’s jacket off his shoulders warily. He yanked at Ty’s shirt, ripping the buttons out of it, then pushed the sleeves off his shoulders so the shirt slid back as Ty stood still, watching him blankly. Zane held his breath, waiting for Ty to do something. Anything. But Ty didn’t move as Redjacket patted him down to make sure he had no other hidden weapons or sticks or God knew what else Ty might have picked up out there.
He tossed away a few more rocks Ty had gathered, pulled a lighter out of his pocket and tossed it away, and removed Ty’s hunting knife. He stopped when he pushed up one of the short sleeves of Ty’s T-shirt. He stared at Ty’s arm for a moment and then looked up at Ty warily. Zane belatedly realized that the man must have caught sight of Ty’s tattoo.
“Marine, are you?” Redjacket muttered to Ty as he finally backed away from him, far enough that Ty couldn’t reach the weapon as he held it on him. He gestured for Swizzlestick to help Earflaps up. “Think you’re a smart guy, huh, Marine?” he said to Ty. “Think one broke face is gonna save you?”
“Made me feel better,” Ty told him with a small smile.
Redjacket gave him a jerky nod. “On your knees,” he ordered angrily. He turned his head to look at Zane. “You too,” he snarled.
Next to Earl and Deuce now, Zane slowly went down in a crouch before dropping to his knees and settling his hands behind his head. Earflaps grabbed up his shotgun and practically shoved it in his face.
“Just one twitch, fella,” he growled. “Gimme one little twitch, and I’ll blow you to kingdom come.”
Zane wisely chose not to move at all, hiding his emotions from long practice, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Ty in the exact same position. Zane wondered what Earl and Deuce must think of them, seemingly unaffected by such things.
Redjacket stood in the middle of them all, looking around at them and obviously realizing that it would be hard to keep them all under control. He glanced between Zane and Ty, common sense telling him that they would be the most dangerous.
“You watch him,” he told Swizzlestick as he pointed at Zane. He handed the thin man Ty’s gun, which Swizzlestick shoved into his belt. “And those two.” He jerked his chin toward Deuce and Earl. Then he pointed at Earflaps. “You bring the Marine,” he said as he pointed at Ty.
Earflaps nodded and took Ty by the elbow, yanking him off the ground and pushing him far enough away to hold the gun on him safely. It was disturbing that they seemed to know to keep out of reach with the guns. They had enough common sense and knowledge to make them scary. They stalked off with Ty in tow as Zane went cold.
As soon as the shotgun was pointed at Ty’s back, Zane lurched. His body coiled as he saw them pushing Ty away from the clearing, but Swizzlestick was right over him and smashed the shotgun’s hilt down onto his right shoulder. Zane crumpled with an odd, choked sound of pain, curling into himself, hugging his arm close as the pain in his head was eclipsed.
Swizzlestick laughed, obviously happy with seeing Zane curled up on the ground. “Aww, now see, I got the easy job,” Swizzlestick said as he moved to stand next to Deuce, holding the gun on them as he positioned himself to where he could see his prisoners and still watch where his buddies were taking Ty.
Zane felt sick and incredibly helpless as he huddled there under watchful eyes, unable to move as his face and shoulder both screamed at him. When he heard the first blow land somewhere behind him, he turned his face into the soft dirt and closed his eyes. They could beat Ty into a pulp back there, and there was nothing he could do. And he knew Ty wouldn’t fight back because of the danger to his partner, brother, and father.
It seemed like a lifetime before the hits and grunts stopped behind him, and Zane took a breath to try to settle his stomach. As far as he could tell, Ty hadn’t made a sound. Far too long went by before they dragged Ty back into the clearing and left him on the ground, across the clearing from Zane and the others. Zane tried in vain to see his partner from where he lay, but the gentle curve of the ground blocked his view. To his immense relief, he heard Ty cough and the scuffle of his hands in the dirt as he tried to push himself up.
“Behave yourself,” Redjacket warned as he walked back in front of them all, rubbing his fist like it was sore.
“I’ve met Iraqi women who hit harder than you,” Ty told him, his voice rough and hoarse. But he had to cough and gasp as he said it. Zane closed his eyes and smiled slightly.
“Want some more, then, smartass?” Earflaps threatened.
“Give it a rest. I need to think on what we’re doing next,” Redjacket said crossly.
“I say we just kill ’em,” Swizzlestick offered.
“We don’t want every cop in the state crawling over this mountain looking for them,” Redjacket responded.
“So what’re you thinkin’? We don’t kill ’em; they tell the Feds we’re here. We kill ’em; the Feds come here when they don’t check in. What’s the difference? At least if they’re dead, they ain’t talkin’,” Earflaps said as he stood over Deuce with his shotgun.
Zane cast his eyes around. No matter how much he pushed his eyes to one side, he still couldn’t see Ty without raising his head. He could hear him, though, still breathing heavily from the punches to the gut they’d dealt him, no matter how hard he tried to play them off as if he wasn’t hurt. Deuce was kneeling next to Earl in the dirt; tied up and considered less of a threat; the men were paying them little attention. Zane figured they were underestimating both of them. Earl was no fragile old man, and Deuce would put up a damn good fight if he had to—he was a Grady, after all. And if they were anything like Ty, those ropes wouldn’t stop them when it got right down to it. They all seemed to be built of the same stone as these mountains.
Zane gave vent to some of his frustration and spat blood from where he’d bitten the inside of his cheek onto the dirt at the hunter’s feet, using the opportunity to push himself up some. He saw Earflaps sniff and re-grip the shotgun in his hands. He still had Ty’s gun in his belt, and Zane eyed it as he lay there.
“Well,” Redjacket said thoughtfully after a long time of thinking it over. “I’m thinkin’ they should just… disappear-like. Then they can’t tell nobody nothing,” he decided with a jerk of his head to the east.