together
since I landed.”
“Where’s Digger?”
“He’s in the fucking cell next to me, Grady!” Nick
shouted. He regained control and whispered his next words.
“Ty, please. They find out I’m a cop, I’m as good as dead down
here.”
27
Ty narrowed his eyes. “Is this like the time you called me
from Panama and said—”
“Ty!”
“Because the ‘I’ve been arrested for murder’ gag only flies
so many times,” Ty warned.
“Ty.”
“I mean, one day I’m going to stop coming.”
“Ty!” Nick shouted, attempting to be calm and serious but
clearly losing his patience. Another shout in the background
caused him to hesitate. “Please. You’re the only person we
know to cal .”
Ty swallowed with difficulty and frowned at Zane. Zane
nodded. “We’ll be on the next flight out.”
“Thank you, Six,” Nick whispered, and the nickname
caused the hairs on Ty’s arms to rise.
Another voice told Nick that his time was up and the call
ended abruptly, leaving Ty staring at his phone.
Zane had to say his name twice before Ty looked up at
him. “Let’s get moving. I’ll go book the tickets. Should we
call Mac?”
Ty shook his head. “We’ll try to fix this before we go back
Tuesday. Maybe we won’t miss work.”
Better to ask forgiveness than permission. That had
become their motto.
Zane grimaced as he turned to get his phone.
“Hey, what did you want to ask me?”
Zane shrugged and gave him a small smile as they headed
for the door. “It’ll wait.”
28
It was well past midnight when Ty and Zane walked
through Louis Armstrong International Airport in New
Orleans. The shops and restaurants were all closed and barred
up, and very few people were walking the concourses.
Ty kept his head down, not speaking at al . He’d said
maybe ten words the entire flight from Baltimore, and his
barely controlled need to fidget during the 45-minute layover
in Charlotte had been like watching a chimpanzee trying to
figure out how to pick the lock on its cage. Zane knew all the
things that had to be swirling through his partner’s mind.
Nick and Digger—two of his oldest, dearest friends, brothers
in arms—were in trouble down here. Trouble that Ty might
not be able to help them out of.
Zane also knew Ty was concerned about showing his
face in New Orleans. He’d spent almost two years in a deep
undercover operation down here, and he hadn’t left on his
own terms. Simply being seen by someone he’d known then
could put him in a bad spot.
It spoke to Ty’s loyalty and love of his friends that he was
braving the city at al . Zane couldn’t think of many people
he’d head back into Miami for.
Ty was holding all of that in, though, keeping his worries
to himself and storing them in the tightness of his jaw and
shoulders.
They retrieved their one checked bag, which held a few
changes of clothing and two hard cases with their service
weapons in them, but Ty was too eager to get to the police
station to take the time to get the guns out and strap them on.
“We’ll get them out in the cab,” Ty reasoned. Zane trailed
after him, pul ing the suitcase along.
When they stepped out of the glass doors and headed for
the line of black and white United taxis awaiting fares, the
29
humidity and warmth hit Zane like a physical blow after the
long winter in Baltimore.
Ty mumbled under his breath as they walked toward the
curb. “Ugh, late April. Never come here after May,” he told
Zane. “October to April. Place is uninhabitable otherwise.”
“Good to know.”
The sound of screeching tires drew their attention to
the end of the roadway, and a white van came tearing up the
loading zone lane. The few people in the crosswalk leaped out
of its way as it screamed past the line of taxis.
Ty took a step toward the curb, reaching under his suit
coat where his gun usually was as the van’s brakes squealed. It
rocked to a halt right in front of