Stars & Stripes (Cut & Run 6)
Page 78“Yes, sir,” Zane said through gritted teeth. “I have to get back to Ty and let him know what’s going on before he and that damn tiger get twitchy.”
Harrison nodded.
Zane turned the corner of the house in time to see Ty and Cody hurrying down the front steps. “Ty!” he called out, but his shout was drowned out by the crack of the gunshot. Ty and Cody both fell to the ground, either hit or taking cover. Zane shouted again, drawing his weapon.
Harrison grabbed him and yanked him back just as a shot thumped into the house.
“No!” Zane fought against his dad’s hands.
Harrison slammed him against the siding. “You ain’t no good to him dead, Z! Get inside.”
Zane opened his mouth to respond, but the sudden shatter of glass and a crash from behind the house cut him off. They hit the ground, and a shadow hustled through the trees, the moonlight glinting off a shotgun. The shooters were aiming at the house and at them. Bullets glanced off the walls, far too close for comfort.
Harrison clamped down on the back of Zane’s neck and wrenched him to his feet. “Get in the house!”
They scrambled for the French doors of Beverly’s office.
Zane took the steps three at a time as bullets tore up the façade, splintering the wood and sending flowers spilling from broken pots. He ran for the den and its gun cabinets, trying not to think about the odds outside or the image of Ty falling to the ground that kept replaying in his head. He yanked a case open and grabbed a shotgun and a rifle. They were loaded and ready to go; guns in the Garrett household were meant to be used, not admired for their shiny parts.
“What in the blazing hinges of hell is going on out there!” Harrison took one of the weapons from Zane’s hand.
“I have no idea!” Zane loaded up a shotgun and grabbed a handful of extra rounds. “See if you can find the family, get everyone upstairs.”
Harrison grabbed him as he was turning away. “Where are you going?”
When he got to the door he hit the marble, staying low as he peered out. Ty was nowhere to be seen. Only a blood smear on the front steps was left of him.
“Ty!” Zane called out. Above the commotion he heard his name called in response. He strained his ears, but instead of Ty, he heard the galloping of horses. In the flickering firelight, he caught silhouettes of horses racing into the night; the entire stock of the C and G had fled from a barn as flames licked at its roof.
Zane’s mind flooded with horror at the sudden outburst of violence. Whoever had been working with Stuart didn’t trust him not to give them away. They were making a break for it tonight.
Gunfire from the back of the house sounded like it was coming from outside and within. His father was firing back.
Zane picked up his rifle and crawled out the door, intent on finding Ty. “Where the f**k are you?” Zane muttered. He hurried down the steps, staying low. Blood stained the steps, but not as much as he’d feared. Ty may have been able to get up under his own power and find cover.
Zane crouched low and skirted the truck parked in front of the steps, heading for the barn. “Grady!”
“Garrett!”
Zane skidded to a halt and turned. He finally saw Ty, lying under the truck on his back. Zane dove for it, peering underneath with a relieved laugh. “Are you okay?”
“Clipped me. I’m bleeding.”
“Come on, let’s get inside.”
“I can’t.”
“Ty, come on, quit screwing around,” Zane said as he reached under the truck to grip Ty’s arm. He pulled, but Ty didn’t budge.
“That’s not funny, Ty.”
“You’re right, Zane, it’s not! Give me your knife.”
“I don’t have it, it’s in my carry-on bag. Where’s yours?”
“It’s in an evidence bag!”
“Goddammit, Ty!” Zane tried tugging at him again, but Ty cried out and shoved at his hand.
“Go get me a knife!”
Zane handed him the shotgun and ran for the house. There were more gunshots, and the tiger was somewhere, roaring. He didn’t have time to be confused, he was just reacting and hoping they could sort out the who and the why later. He ran for the kitchen, but almost toppled over his father as he pushed through the door.
“Dad!”
“Zane!”
Zane was shocked to see all the people in the kitchen—at least twenty, some family, some guests of the party. Annie and Beverly huddled together in the banquette, pale and drawn. Harrison held a shotgun, as did at least five other employees of the ranch. Mark was there, a rifle in his hands and blood at his hairline.
“What are you doing?” Zane asked his dad. “I told you to get upstairs!”
“If we head up, we’ll be trapped,” Mark said, shouting over the noise.
Zane shook his head, his eyes drawn back to Mark. If Mark wasn’t behind it, then who the hell was? His stomach flipped. A blast sounded from the front of the house.
“Ty.” Zane grabbed his dad’s arm. “Do you have a knife?”
Harrison dug in his pocket and handed Zane his pocketknife. He followed Zane to the front door, where they both stopped and watched in horror as flames licked at the bed of the truck parked in the driveway. Glass broke somewhere in the house. Then another window smashed.
“Molotov cocktails,” Zane said. “They’re going to set fire to the house.”
“I called the sheriff back. They were already halfway to Austin.”
“They’ll never get here in time.” He shoved at his dad. “Go get the others, we have to fight back or we’ll be dead. I have to get Ty.”
“Where is he?”
“Stuck under the truck.”
Zane took the steps two at a time and darted around the truck to dive to the gravel at Ty’s side.
“Truck’s on fire, Zane,” Ty said, sounding urgent but calm.
“I see that, Ty,” Zane said through gritted teeth. He handed Ty the knife.
“Watch your six,” Ty said, then disappeared further under the truck. When Zane turned and looked up, a 4x4 was thundering toward them. He raised the shotgun in his hands, knowing the birdshot would do nothing to slow down the truck but hoping to hit the driver. The truck skidded to a stop and Joe barreled out of the cab.