Touch & Geaux (Cut & Run, #7) Read online

  Chairs scraped on the wooden floors as everyone stood and scrambled toward the stairs to retrieve their gear.

  “Are they coming for us?” Ty asked Ava.

  She nodded. “Shine called me, told me they were on their way. They know you’re here.”

  Ty cursed under his breath. He reached out and pulled her to him, hugging her tightly before he let her go and darted up the steps.

  Only Zane remained, still sitting at the table, arms crossed. He stared at Ava until she turned to look at him.

  “You called him. Didn’t you?” Zane asked, voice pitched low so only she would hear it.

  Her breath caught. She swallowed hard and inclined her head, squaring her shoulders. “Ty isn’t the only one in town who’s scared of that old bastard,” she whispered. “But he’s the only one I know who just might be able to kill him if he’s given the chance.”

  “You’re using him to get rid of your father. Risking his life.”

  “That’s what men like him are for.” She turned on her heel and ducked behind the curtain again.

  Ty led them through the residential streets of Marigny, pushing them to reach the French Quarter, trying to stick to the Easter crowds, desperate to keep his mind on survival and off the fact that his heart was breaking every time he and Zane were close.

  “If we can get to the cathedral, we can lose ourselves in the crowd until the parades start,” he told them. Soon they neared Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral, one of the most recognizable landmarks in the French Quarter.

  People milled around dressed in their Sunday best. Every woman wore a hat of some description, and many of the men did as well.

  “Shit, you think we’ll be killing people on Easter Sunday?” Nick muttered as they neared the cathedral.

  Ty nodded and Nick cursed, then stopped briefly in front of the cathedral and made the sign of the cross as he faced the soaring spires. Kelly grabbed him by the arm and tugged him, peering up at the structure.

  “Forgive him, baby Jesus, he knows not what he does,” Kelly said, then pulled Nick with him.

  “I’m going to Hell anyway, I don’t know why I bother anymore.”

  Ty turned down Pirate’s Alley, the narrow lane that skirted the cathedral, and then they cut through St. Anthony’s garden, the tiny area behind the cathedral where four unmarked tombs rested. Ty leapt over one of the marble slabs. He could hear Nick complaining behind him.

  “They’re empty!” Ty called to him. All but one, but Ty didn’t add that. He led them on through several turns until they reached Antoine’s Restaurant. The place was obviously closed, but a crowd was building in the street.

  “What is this?” Zane asked. He was a little out of breath, but then, so were the rest of them.

  “The first parade starts here at nine or nine-thirty. We should be safe for a while.”

  “Despite the fact that the police station is two blocks that way?” Zane asked, pointing toward Royal Street.

  “What are you, like a walking map?” Digger asked.

  “Sort of, yeah,” Zane answered.

  “The station will be damn near empty right now,” Ty told them. “There are three parades today, plus the Easter services. They’re already out. The safest place is in a crowd, and this is all I got.”

  Nick patted him on the shoulder, nodding. “It’ll do.”

  “Call the Feds,” Owen said as they all parked themselves near the façade of the restaurant. They looked like wandering vagrants. Their clothes were unkempt, they were carrying bags on their backs, and Ty and Zane were both wearing hats they had taken from Murdoch’s office before leaving.

  Ty pulled out his phone and dialed the number for the local Bureau field office.

  “Yes, I need to speak with Gregory Pike,” Ty said as soon as the call was answered. He could feel the others forming a sort of barrier around him and Zane as they stood on the periphery of the parade crowd. He ducked his head to avoid being recognized or caught on any security feeds.

  “I’m sorry, sir, Special Agent Pike no longer works here.”

  “Shit,” Ty hissed. He put the phone to his chest and closed his eyes, trying to think. Pike had been the handler for all UC cases before Katrina hit. He’d been a solid, trustworthy local, one who’d proven impervious to bribes or scandal. His replacement could be anyone, and Ty didn’t trust just anyone. He cleared his throat and brought the phone back up. “I need to speak with his replacement, then.”

  “One moment.”

  Nick shook his head urgently. “Replacement?”

  “I know. I don’t think we can trust him,” Ty whispered.

  Zane extended his hand. “How do you know?”

  “This is New Orleans, Zane, you don’t trust anyone. But if I hear his name, I might know him.”

  “Hang up,” Nick hissed.

  Kelly gripped Nick’s shoulder and shook his head. “This is the only avenue that doesn’t end bloody. We’ll go in careful, bug out if he doesn’t feel right.”

  Ty glanced around the faces staring at him and noticed one missing. “Where’d Liam go?”

  The others searched around, but Liam Bell was nowhere to be found.

  “He bailed,” Zane said. He sounded surprised.

  Ty gritted his teeth. “We consider him hostile now.”

  “Does that mean I get to shoot him?” Nick asked.

  “Yes.”

  Owen cursed. “We can’t fight a three-front war with a few of Digger’s toys and four guns.”

  Zane shook his head. “We can’t fight one front if we don’t get help.”

  Saint Louis Cemetery #1 on Basin Street was the oldest cemetery in New Orleans. It wasn’t far from where the parade started. The walk was excruciating for Zane. Ty wouldn’t make eye contact with him, wouldn’t even glance in his general direction. Zane wasn’t sure which of them should be apologizing or if there was even anything left to say after last night. Ty had crossed a line, there was no question of that. But last night, Zane had crossed one too.

  He trailed along, silent as Ty told them a little of the history of the cemetery so they’d be familiar with the terrain.

  The raised tombs were due in part to the Spanish and French traditions of the original New Orleanians, but also served as a solution to the fact that New Orleans was below sea level. Solid land was at a premium even in the 1700s, and using it to bury the dead was just bad business. So the iconic aboveground cemeteries of New Orleans were pieced together over the centuries. Ty told them they would have lots of cover, but to be careful about taking blind turns, as they might wind up smacking straight into an abandoned vault that had sunk half into the ground.

  There were three gated entrances into the cemetery, only one of which stayed open. It was otherwise surrounded by high walls. Not a fortress by any means, but an excellent place for such a meeting. The maze inside would offer cover, and the limited points of egress would make it easy to spot anyone who shouldn’t be there.

  As the parade inched down Bourbon, they began to split off. Ty was to double-time it to the north and circle back, heading down Rampart and then cutting through Louis Armstrong Park. He would approach Basin Street Station, a visitor center with a roof terrace that was the perfect place to put a sniper. He’d secure a position up there and remain until it was clear. He carried Liam’s British-made AWS suppressed sniper rifle with folding action in a nondescript violin case he’d stolen from La Fée Verte.

  Owen and Digger were to enter the cemetery and loiter on the south side to prevent entry, while Nick and Kelly were to guard the back gate from outside the cemetery.

  Zane was left to head straight down St. Louis Street and approach the cemetery at its main entrance.

  The ear buds Digger had provided were dependent on small wireless radios, and as long as the radio was within a few yards of the ear bud, they would work. Zane kept his in his pocket. They had a limited range, but Zane could still hear the others after they all went their separate ways. Ty remained sile
nt for several minutes, his harsh breathing as he ran the only evidence that his ear bud worked at all. Then his breathing evened out and he began to whistle a tune. Zane slowed his pace, a feeling of dread coming over him. When Ty whistled, it never boded well.

  The street in front of the cemetery’s main entrance was crowded with parked cars and several horse-drawn carriages. Zane hung back, loitering and strolling up and down the street for nearly an hour as he observed the area. The others were doing the same, reporting in occasionally. Ty had made his way to his roost somehow, and since Zane hadn’t heard him trying to charm any employees, his guess was Ty had just snuck up there.

  “I got a Fed,” Ty finally whispered in Zane’s ear. “Coming up on Garrett now.”

  Zane watched a thin man in a dark suit step out of a black Tahoe that he’d parked illegally along the street, then head straight for the cemetery entrance as he buttoned his suit jacket.

  “Got him,” Zane said under his breath. “Anyone following?”

  “It’s clear back here,” Nick said.

  “Got a vehicle parked on this side,” Owen reported. “Some sort of touring van.”

  “Go on your count, Garrett,” Ty murmured.

  Zane waited a few more minutes, then crossed the street at an angle, standing in the grassy median and shielding his eyes from the sun. The Basin Street Station building was to his right. It was pale yellow with black iron workings around the top terrace. That was where Ty had set up. It was impossible to see him, though; the sun sat right behind him. Behind the enclosed walls of the cemetery, Zane could see the uneven structures of tombs and tiny chapels. Stone angels wept. Brick faltered to the hands of time and unstable earth.

  Zane took a moment to steady himself, and then crossed to the other side of the street. The agent saw him coming and nodded at him, then turned, following a small tour group into the cemetery and breaking off to the right. Ty had told the FBI contact to meet them in the front of the cemetery.

  “He’s heading in. It’s a trap,” Ty said in Zane’s ear. “Everybody bug out.”

  “Negative,” Zane said, and he followed the man into the cemetery.

  “Dammit, Garrett, the others can’t cover you in there!” Ty shouted.

  Zane nodded. He’d spent most of his time undercover alone; he was more used to taking these types of risks than Ty was. And he had every confidence that Ty’s sniper rifle would cover him just fine.

  Zane trailed through the maze of tombs, following the directions Ty whispered in his ear. He headed to the back where Ty said the Protestant section would be. It was a grassy area, devoid of vaults and mostly clear. It took Zane many twists and turns, and several dead ends with Ty’s voice in his ear telling him which way to go, before he found it.

  The agent was sitting on an iron bench, waiting for him. He was possibly the most Federal-looking FBI agent Zane had ever seen: black suit, loafers, sunglasses, and a thick black tie. He’d unbuttoned his jacket and his shoulder holster was partially visible, and his pants leg rode up to reveal his backup holster and weapon. A field agent he was not.

  Zane sighed and stepped out of the row of tombs he’d cut through. The man straightened when he caught sight of Zane, and he stood, buttoning his jacket.

  “Special Agent Howard?” Zane asked.

  “That’s right. Are you Garrett?”

  Zane nodded.

  “Where’s your CI?”

  “My CI?”

  “You said you were bringing in a CI. A Tyler Beaumont.”

  “Oh, yeah. Yeah, he’s the one with that little red dot on your chest,” Zane said, pointing to Howard’s tie.

  Howard looked down and jerked when he saw the laser sight dancing on his tie. His eyes were wide and scared when they met Zane’s. He reached for his gun, but his buttoned suit impeded him, so he brought his wrist to his mouth and ducked, as if that would save him from Ty’s sniper rifle.

  “They’re onto us! They came armed!” he shouted to whoever was on the other end of his radio.

  Zane cursed and turned to duck behind the nearest row of tombs. The telltale pops of a suppressed weapon echoed in the humidity. Marble chips flew as the rounds hit next to Zane’s head. He ducked and weaved left, covering his head. He could hear the others in his ear bud. None of them sounded panicked. In fact, Ty’s voice came over the frequency as calm as if he were ordering a sandwich at the local deli. Zane had heard more emotion from Ty as he watched a football game.

  “Got five going over the northeast wall,” Ty said in Zane’s ear.

  “Which one’s northeast?” Owen shouted.

  “Not yours. Garrett’s hemmed in.”

  “Aye aye, we’re going in,” Nick growled. More suppressed pops came from the wall, followed by the boom of Nick’s weapon.

  “Five more through the main entrance,” Ty murmured. “These aren’t locals. Get out.”

  Shots fired from the roof. Zane peered around the tomb to see Special Agent Howard scrabbling for cover. Bullets hit at his feet, kicking up earth and grass, making him dance back and forth. Ty was playing with him, pinning him down.

  Tourists screamed in the distance. Horses whinnied. Sirens began to blare from the traffic station down the street. Zane lunged from his hiding spot and ran low, angling toward Howard, where he was trapped in the open by Ty’s covering fire. A bullet whizzed past his arm, so close it burned.

  “Shit. Sorry,” Ty said in his ear.

  “Watch it!” Zane snarled. He reached Howard and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, jerking him to his feet and pulling him toward the tombs. He saw Nick and Kelly scaling the gate on the back wall.

  When he reached cover, Zane slammed Howard to the ground and held his gun to the man’s nose. He patted him down, taking all his weapons, his badge, and his car keys.

  “Six, you got cops on your position in three,” Nick shouted.

  Ty ignored the warning and fired more shots. Someone in the cemetery screamed.

  “Two down. And a half. Seven live. Get your asses out of there!” Ty ordered. “Garrett, quit dancing with him and move!”

  Zane didn’t release the man, instead gripping him hard by his collar and forcing him along with him.

  “It’s too hot up here, I’m gone,” Ty said. “Clear out!”

  Shots continued to echo through the cemetery, but the sniper rifle fell silent.

  Zane craned his head to look up at the roof as he dragged Howard through the maze of vaults and tombs. Ty had finally abandoned his post, but Zane didn’t know how he planned to get out of that building now that all hell had broken loose.

  There was more gunfire from the back of the cemetery. Zane couldn’t tell if Sidewinder was chasing the unfriendlies or if they were now being chased. Agent Howard fell to his knees, whimpering and tugging at Zane’s hand.

  “Get up!” Zane shouted. He yanked him hard, slamming him against the crumbling exposed brick of an ancient vault. He shoved his gun under Howard’s chin. “Who’d you call?”

  Howard began blubbering. Zane could barely make out his words. He yanked the ear bud from his ear to be rid of the chatter and shoved the gun harder against Howard’s neck. “Shut your damn mouth.”

  Howard’s sniveling cut off with a gulp. “Please don’t kill me,” he whispered. “I have a family.”

  Zane bared his teeth. “I don’t care. Who did you call?”

  “Police commander. Gaudet.”

  “This isn’t cop firepower; who else is involved?”

  “He—he said he had help. Someone new in town.”

  “Names.”

  Howard jerked his head from side to side. He was trembling. “Spanish. I don’t know.”

  “Colombian?”

  “I don’t know! Please God, don’t hurt me.”

  Zane released him. He peered over the vault. The gunfire continued. He stuck the ear bud back in, only to be greeted by garbled shouts and echoes of shots.

  He stepped away from Howard and pointed the gun at the man’s l
eg.

  “Oh, God no!”

  “This is your final lesson in loyalty,” Zane growled. He put a bullet in the man’s kneecap and darted away.

  “Where the hell did they get all this firepower?” Nick shouted as he and Kelly ducked behind a large marble vault. Bullets thwapped into the ground around them, ricocheting off marble and stone. Nick’s face was bleeding and he could feel a shard of something stuck just below his eye. His sunglasses had probably saved his vision.

  “Not cops!” Ty yelled through the static in Nick’s ear. He was breathing hard, probably running.

  “Cartel hitters,” Zane hissed. “Howard said Gaudet called them in.”

  “So wait, the cartel and the cops are working together?” Owen asked. “How’s that fair?”

  “Does it matter?” Kelly shouted. “Sound the retreat, baby, let’s get our happy asses out of here!” He reached to Nick’s face and yanked the piece of shrapnel out. Nick cussed him up and down and held his hand to the wound.

  Owen’s voice came through. “Six?”

  Ty’s response was barely audible.

  “Rabbit hole,” Kelly muttered at Nick’s side. He was reloading his gun, crouched as low as he could get. If Ty’d gone down the rabbit hole, there was no one to offer cover fire.

  “Get the hell out of here,” Zane ordered. “Everybody out!”

  “Should’ve put a guard on the roost,” Digger said. “Goddamn you Liam Bell!”

  Nick couldn’t make out where any of the others were. They’d been outnumbered and overpowered, chased into the maze of tombs within the cemetery. It encompassed an entire block, filled with crumbling sidewalks, winding alleyways too small to fit a grown man through, and towering stonework that abruptly cut off pathways and created kill boxes with no escape. Without Ty in the sniper’s roost to cover them or give them enemy positions, they were in the dark.

  “I’m almost at the front entrance,” Zane said on the ear bud. “Make your way here, I’ll cover you.”

  Nick patted Kelly’s knee, pointing toward the direction of the main entrance. Kelly nodded and they both darted off down the closest lane.