Sticks & Stones
Page 5Zane shrugged. “Fine. Coffee.” He looked at Ty speculatively. “What did Burns tell you?”
“That you’re fucked in the head,” Ty responded as he turned and looked at Zane with narrowed eyes, taking in how on edge Zane seemed. Defensive. “What have you been doing about it?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?” Ty asked in amusement. “Aside from me?” he added.
Zane’s lips compressed, but then his eyes closed for a moment, he half smiled, and some of the tension eased. He slid one hand into his pants pocket. “Planning my next chance?”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Ty muttered as the elevator doors opened. He stepped in and punched the button for the ground floor. “Come on,” he said to Zane with a sigh. “I have to go home and pack.”
“You’re actually going somewhere?” Zane asked in surprise.
“I have not-so-subtle orders to go see my family,” Ty answered wryly. He cocked his head as he studied Zane again. “You’re going to spend three weeks just sitting around your hotel room and moping, aren’t you?” he asked knowingly.
Zane sighed and crossed his arms. “I don’t really know where I’d go. I’m not going to Texas again.”
Ty hesitated, looking him up and down. The thought of inviting Zane to accompany him to West Virginia was appealing, in a way. If things went south, Ty could throw Zane in front of his parents just like he had the paintballs. Use him as a sort of human sacrifice. And then there was the added benefit of having Zane close every night. He’d come to enjoy that when it still happened, despite how he wanted to throttle Zane sometimes.
“You want to come with me?” he asked tentatively.
Zane stared at him, obviously thinking it was a joke. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I need you,” Ty told him as he reached out and stopped the doors from closing. He knew Zane well enough to know how to manipulate him. If Zane thought his partner was showing vulnerability, he’d fall for it every time. It was an amazingly predictable habit for his unpredictable partner. And there was more than a grain of truth in the words. “Come on,” he repeated.
Looking faintly surprised, Zane got on the elevator and stood next to him, waiting for an explanation. Ty remained silent, enjoying watching the other man struggle with the fact that he would have to ask for it. Zane actually lasted almost the entire elevator ride to the parking garage before he huffed softly. “Fine,” he said grudgingly. “What do you need me for?”
Ty smirked as he looked over at Zane, but the smile faded as he cleared his throat. “If I’m going home, I need something bigger than me to hide behind,” he said as he gestured to Zane’s larger frame.
“That actually did work out pretty well for me in the end last time,” Zane drawled, raising an eyebrow. He was obviously remembering the night after the trip to Quantico.
Ty let his eyes rake over the man suggestively. “You have other uses too,” he agreed.
“Home,” Zane said slowly, smiling a little at Ty’s playful words. “To West by-God Virginia? And you want me to just… tag along?”
“Yes,” Ty answered with a curt nod. That was exactly what he wanted. If Zane could survive a trip to West Virginia to meet the Gradys, he could live through anything. Like a cockroach.
Ty pursed his lips and waited a moment before moving out of the elevator without bothering to answer.
Zane huffed quietly and followed him. “Grady, you’re going to answer my question.”
“And you’re going to sprout wings and fly,” Ty shot back over his shoulder. “Do you have camping gear?”
“Camping… why the hell would I need camping gear in DC?” Zane asked, throwing up a hand. “Answer the question.”
“There are places to camp in DC,” Ty answered as he headed for his Bronco.
“Yeah, if you’re homeless in a city park,” Zane retorted. “Answer the question, Grady.”
“I did,” Ty said to him with a smirk he tried to hide. He seriously enjoyed riling Zane up. The results were often… heated. “I mean, if you want specific places to camp, I’m gonna need a map. And maybe some squeaky pens, you know, the ones that smell good?” he rambled, knowing it would annoy Zane and trying not to smile as he said it.
Zane stopped in place as Ty kept walking. After a long moment he shook his head and changed directions, heading for the far side of the parking garage. Zane had learned not long after they’d been reassigned that he didn’t have to stick around to deal with Ty’s verbal sparring. In some ways it was a nuisance, because now Ty had to work harder to annoy him, but it was refreshing, too, in that Zane wasn’t willing to be batted around like a mouse being taunted by a cat anymore.
“Hey!” Ty called after him with a melancholy smile. He did miss the verbal sparring sometimes.
“What?” Zane yelled back as he kept walking to his Valkyrie, parked in the corner about thirty yards away.
“You want to know why I don’t like going home?” Ty asked as he jangled his keys, the sound echoing in the cement parking garage.
“I believe I asked what you were afraid of, Grady. Two different things,” Zane responded as he picked up his helmet from the seat of the motorcycle. His voice bounded off the concrete of the parking deck and reached Ty almost as an echo.
“I’m afraid of the dark,” Ty answered immediately with a tilt of his head, his voice soft and serious.
Zane paused and turned back to study him. Ty smiled slightly. They were both still dealing with hangups and problems. While Zane certainly had a harder time dealing than Ty did, every once in a while it did Zane good to be reminded that he wasn’t alone in his struggles.
“You really want me to come?” Zane asked him uncertainly.
Ty nodded.
“What are we going to do while we’re there?”“Eat home cooking and take a little hike in the woods,” Ty answered with a negligent shrug.
“Is there?” Ty asked innocently. He shook his head. “We just go up on the mountain. Stay there a week, maybe ten days,” he explained.
“Ten days,” Zane repeated flatly.
“Sometimes less,” Ty answered.
“I’ve never been to the mountains,” Zane said doubtfully as he set his helmet down.
“All the more reason to go,” Ty countered, though he was silently wondering how in the hell Zane had lived all his life without going into the mountains. Any mountains.
Zane nodded slowly. “Are we still getting coffee?” he asked after a moment.
“If you want it,” Ty answered with a shrug. “We need to go shopping. You’re gonna need some boots,” he told his partner with relish.
Chapter 3
IT WAS warm enough that they could leave the windows of Ty’s Bronco down as they drove along the winding roads that led to Bluefield, West Virginia. The fall leaves had turned, making the road a blinding corridor of oranges, yellows, and reds. And even though the sun had just barely risen, the sky was an amazingly clear blue as they headed higher into the Appalachian Mountains.
Ty didn’t say much as he drove. He didn’t even have the radio on. He was obviously distracted, resting his head in his hand as he propped his elbow on the open window. Even behind the dark aviator sunglasses and the mangled straw bullrider-style hat that sat low on his head, shielding his face, he was frowning unconsciously. He’d purposely taken the scenic route, avoiding the highways as much as possible, but he got more and more tense as they got closer to their destination.
Zane was distracted as well, but more by the scenery than by his thoughts or by his companion’s mood. He’d never been up in the mountains, and while Texas had trees, it didn’t have trees like this. Trees in every direction, up the mountains, down the mountains, as far as the eye could see.
He frowned and shifted his jaw from side to side, trying to pop his ears. “I need gum,” he muttered, looking over to Ty. “You could have warned me. I didn’t even think about altitude change.”
“Hold your nose and try to blow air through it,” Ty advised seriously.
Zane peered at him, trying to decide if he was joking. With Ty, it was usually a safe bet that he was jerking him around, no matter how serious he sounded. But since his partner still looked as distracted as before, Zane decided to try it. And damn if it didn’t work.
“Does it all look like this?” he asked as he pulled at his ears. “All the trees and sky and nothing else?”
“The sky is usually there, yeah,” Ty answered with a firm nod. “So are the trees, come to think of it,” he added thoughtfully.
Zane thwacked him, earning a surprised, “Ow!”
Ty glanced at him and grumbled as he rubbed his chest. Grinning, Zane shifted in the seat to extend his legs across the floorboard as they drove into the town of Bluefield. It wasn’t what Zane had expected. It was large and fairly modern, nestled in a valley and sprawling across a gently rolling landscape. There were sections that were older and slightly dilapidated, but for the most part it looked like Bluefield was doing pretty well.
Zane was smiling slightly as Ty took the truck through several turns. Then they were heading further up the mountain. Zane’s brow furrowed as he watched the rustic scenery pass, and he asked, “You don’t play banjo, do you?”
Ty looked over at him quickly, shock written plainly on his face even behind the sunglasses. “Did Dick tell you that?” he demanded.
Zane stared at him for a moment and then broke down laughing. “Oh hell, no. I was just making a Deliverance joke!”
Ty glared at him for as long as he was able before he was forced to look back at the road. “I learned when I was little,” he finally said defensively. “Banjo, fiddle, guitar. The whole family plays.”
“That’s great,” Zane said once he calmed down a little, though he couldn’t resist another snicker. That just seemed out of character for tough guy Marine Ty Grady. It was almost charming.
“Shut up,” Ty muttered. “And FYI, Deliverance took place in Georgia. In West Virginia we kiss our cousins.”
Zane laughed softly. Soon they were out of the city, climbing even further up into the mountains. He had to yawn a couple times to pop his ears again.
Another five minutes and they were turning off the paved two-lane and heading up a winding dirt road. Ty was getting more and more fidgety, shifting in his seat as he put the Bronco through its paces. Just when it looked like the road might be tapering off into rugged wilderness, Ty turned onto a narrow gravel drive that seemed to go straight up into the heart of a mountain. He glanced at Zane again and smiled. “You can get a car up here, but you better hope the weather sticks.” Then he frowned and slowed the truck further. “Here we go,” he murmured as they topped the steep incline and a house came into view.
Zane’s lips compressed. Ty was still edgy, and it was getting to him. He leaned forward to look out the windshield at what awaited them.
The house was a classic old farmhouse, but well-kept, with a stone foundation, white siding, dormer windows on the second story, bright red shutters, and a matching tin roof. A porch wrapped around the entire front and side of the house, complete with an array of old rocking chairs and oversized stairs leading up to the front door. The outbuildings were in worse shape, the paint peeling slightly on the clapboard frames; some of them tilted precariously. Several of them were nothing but cedar beams and tin, while a few were cinderblock and much sturdier.
In the gravel driveway were four other vehicles: a crew cab Ford F-150, a Chevy Blazer, an old Ford Ranger, and a brand new black Lexus coupe. Ty parked beside the Lexus and cocked his head, peering at it curiously.
A man drew Zane’s attention when he came out onto the porch, pushing through the screen door and shielding his eyes as he stepped into the morning sun. He was young, much too young to be Ty’s father. He still bore a striking resemblance to Ty, though his hair was a little longer and lighter, and he was taller and thinner. He had to be Ty’s brother. The man thumped down the stairs, walking with a pronounced limp, and Ty opened up his door and slid out of the Bronco as he came closer.
Taking his cue from Ty, Zane got out as well but stood just inside the door as he looked around at the towering trees that surrounded them. He tore his eyes away from them to watch Ty approach the house. He felt like he should hang back for now, at least until after the reunion.
Ty grinned as he and his brother embraced. He gave the man an affectionate pat on his cheek and then turned and gestured for Zane to come closer.
“’Bout time y’all got here,” Ty’s brother said to them.
“Shut up,” Ty grunted at him. “Zane, this is my brother, Deacon,” he said with a wave of his hand at his brother. “This is Zane Garrett.”
“Special Agent Zane Garrett, I assume,” Deacon said with emphasis as he stepped forward and took Zane’s hand, pumping it hard. His voice wasn’t as deep as Ty’s, but it still had that gravelly, drawling quality to it that Zane liked. “You can call me Deuce.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">