Stars & Stripes

He took her by her shoulders. “Thank you!”



He hopped off the porch and ran to his truck, leaving her looking bewildered.



Hours later, Zane was sitting by Ty’s bed. Ty had shown signs of waking, but after a night of lying in the hospital as Zane paced beside him, he was still unconscious.



They had run all kinds of tests and discovered exactly what type of dart had been used. They’d given Ty the appropriate human antidote, and Zane had set the local law enforcement on a hunt for any of the same that were missing from area vets.



Then he’d called their boss, Dan McCoy, who’d been supremely pissed to learn that Ty was unconscious in Texas and not in DC doing whatever lie he’d told to get out of work.



They’d done all they could for Ty, and though the doctors seemed concerned that he was still unconscious after receiving the antidote, Zane kept telling himself that with the way Ty reacted to medications, he merely needed to sleep it off. The antidote had made him restless briefly, but it hadn’t woken him.



Zane found his eyes drifting shut and his head drooping. He jerked awake and looked around, surprised.



“Zane.”



Zane surged forward, kneeling on the edge of the bed to look down at Ty, but Ty’s eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving. There was no indication that he’d spoken at all.



Zane suspected he was beginning to imagine things. “Baby?”



Ty’s eyes fluttered open for the briefest of seconds before closing again.



“I know you’re in there,” Zane whispered. He leaned closer, brushing his lips against Ty’s cheek, then stretched out next to Ty and laid his head down. He stared at Ty’s profile, willing him to move, praying to see another flutter of his eyelashes.



Ty finally parted his lips, taking in a deep breath. He said Zane’s name, a mere puff of air. Zane pushed up and looked down at him, brushing his hand over Ty’s face and then sliding his finger over Ty’s lower lip, just like Ty did to him when he was asleep. Ty’s eyes opened again, staring past Zane at the ceiling.



“Ty?”



“Did we get hit?”



“No, Ty, no. You aren’t there. You’re here with me. You’re safe.”



Ty reached for him, gripping him with alarming strength. His eyes closed, and he started speaking in Farsi.



“What? Ty, I don’t understand.”



Ty opened his eyes to look up into Zane’s. He spoke again, sounding desperate and almost scared.



Zane had heard his lover speaking Farsi before, oftentimes in his sleep. But never in a waking dream, never while Ty was looking into his eyes and trying to communicate with him. He licked his lips and reached to the bedside table for Ty’s phone. He wasn’t too proud to call for help.



Only after Nick O’Flaherty answered, sounding sleepy and sullen, did Zane realize it was the middle of the night. He winced, but he was too worried to apologize.



“It’s Garrett, I need your help.”



“Yeah, what’s wrong?”



“Ty’s speaking in Farsi and I need you to translate.”



“What?”



“Just . . . I’ll explain later, I’m afraid he’s going to fall asleep again.” Zane pushed the speaker button and held the phone out.



“You people get into the weirdest trouble,” Nick said.



“What’s he saying?”



Nick was silent as Ty mumbled. After a few moments, he said, “Well first of all, that’s not Farsi. It’s Dari.”



“Does it matter?”



“It does if you don’t speak Dari.”



“Do you speak Dari?”



“Yeah. Just expect a little more accuracy from the likes of you.”



“O’Flaherty, come on.”



“He’s saying he’s thirsty. And he’s asking if you can help him. ‘I’m U.S. military, can you direct me to the nearest base?’ Garrett, this sounds a lot like what we were both saying after they picked us up in the desert. I asked for directions in my sleep for months after. Is he drugged? Hurt?”



“Animal tranquilizers.”



Nick was silent. “Of course. That should have been my first guess. He’s also saying the ground is cold, if that means anything.”



“No,” Zane said with a sigh.



Ty spoke again, the words slurring. Nick started laughing.



“What? What’d he say?”



“He said his hovercraft is full of eels.”



“What? Is that code for something?”



“No.” Nick still sounded amused. “He’s just muttering, Garrett. He’s high. Lost.”



Zane inhaled deeply and nodded, almost disappointed that Ty hadn’t been trying to communicate something more than his need for water and a blanket.



“Hey,” Nick added solemnly. “He’s okay until he starts speaking Russian.”



“Russian? Since when does Ty know Russian?”



“He doesn’t. You guys need help? Where are you, what’s going on?”



“No, no. We’re okay. Just a dustup in Texas.”



“With animal tranquilizers.”



“He’ll fill you in later.”



“If you’re sure.”



“I am. You sound hungover.”



“It’s Canada Day.”



“So?”



“So, I’m in Canada.”



“Why?”



“Because it’s Canada Day! Come on, Garrett!”



Zane snorted.



“Call me when he wakes up, okay? Tell him I said to take it easy on the hard stuff.”



Zane huffed and set the phone down, then reached for the glass of water by the bed. He offered it to Ty, helping him raise his head. After a few swallows, Ty was calm again, his eyes closed, his face relaxed and serene as Zane laid his head back on the pillow.



Zane studied him like the unsolved mystery he was. He remembered overhearing Julian Cross ask how Ty knew Russian Sambo after Ty had taken him down in a scuffle. He knew Ty had been paid off to keep his silence about the way he’d been discharged from the military. And Mark had alleged a murder on Ty’s part when he had been in the service.



But he had no doubt that he knew who Ty was now, inside and out. He knew every one of Ty’s quirks and weak spots and favorite things. He knew what Ty found funny and what annoyed him. He knew what would break his heart. He knew how to touch him to drive him wild, and when to back off when Ty was having a bad day. He knew that Ty was kind and loyal and funny, that he had a deep sense of honor and righteousness. He knew that Ty would die to save a stranger, and kill to save a friend. That was the type of man he was.



He knew who Ty was now. But he suspected that the Ty he knew was a different man from the one Ty had been. The man who’d once made hardened Marines uneasy. He reached out and put his hand on Ty’s forehead. “Who were you, Ty?”



Ty responded with his name, rank, and serial number. The words were mumbled, but with an undercurrent of defiance and threat. The last person who’d received those answers from Ty hadn’t lived through the interrogation. A chill ran down Zane’s spine. He didn’t ask another question, merely laid his head down beside Ty’s to sleep.



Ty woke disoriented, just as Zane had known he would. But he was able to answer the questions two determined nurses asked—with the assistance of some creative hand signals from Zane as he stood behind them—and he was grudgingly released. He fell asleep with his head in Zane’s lap on the way home, and Zane needed three others to help him carry Ty into the house and to a bed upstairs.



Zane was still asleep, curled up next to Ty, when he heard the doorbell ring. He raised his head, confused about where he was for a few seconds. It was his old bedroom, but everything about it had long ago changed. Not even the bed was the same. The ceiling still had that same crack in it, though, the one Zane had often traced with his eyes when he couldn’t sleep.



He heard voices from downstairs. It was Thursday, and the ranch was open for business. But no one ever came into the house unless they were very special or very rich, and Zane couldn’t imagine Joe or Cody letting anyone get this far without guiding them toward the barn where they were supposed to be.



Zane looked down at Ty, running his hand over his face. Ty didn’t move, didn’t even twitch. Zane checked his pulse. Everything was as it should have been, and his pulse was strong. A man of Ty’s size should have been able to shake off the tranquilizers by now, but there was never any guessing how Ty would respond to such things.



Zane rolled out of bed with a heavy feeling. There was nothing he could do for his partner right now, and he hated it.



He slid his feet into his shoes and rubbed at his eyes as he headed for the door. He didn’t even bother looking in a mirror. He just ran his hands through his unruly hair as he thumped down the stairs.



He stopped short when he saw four men sitting in the formal living room. His mother was there, standing by the doorway, and his father was seated as he talked with the visitors.



Zane approached carefully, listening to the conversation.



“. . . figured we’d come by and see how he was.”



“That’s right neighborly of you,” Harrison said, though his voice was cool.



Beverly turned to see Zane standing there, and she reached out and patted him on the shoulder, moving him until he was leaning against the wall, out of sight. She let him go and turned back to her visitors.



A tingle of apprehension ran through Zane. His mother obviously thought something was wrong and wanted him to listen without being seen.



“Well, when you hear a man got mauled by a tiger on the next ranch over, it does cause some concern.”



Zane knew the voice. It was Stuart, the asshole from the bar.



“He hasn’t woken yet,” Beverly said, her voice cold. “He’s still at the hospital. We don’t know what happened.”



“So he ain’t told anyone the details?” Stuart asked.



Beverly didn’t answer, and Harrison cleared his throat. “We can’t say what happened. Won’t know ’til he wakes.”



“If he wakes at all,” Beverly interjected.



Zane turned his head sharply, trying to see his mother’s face.



“That bad, huh?” Stuart asked. The other three visitors began to murmur their apologies.



“He’s in quite bad shape,” Beverly said with a nod.



“That’s a shame.” Stuart sighed, like he was standing.



Beverly put her hand behind the wall and waved at Zane urgently, shooing him away. Zane retreated to the alcove that used to be a butler’s nook when the house was first built, and flattened himself there.



“We’ll just be heading on, then. Our regards to the rest of your family,” Stuart said, and soon the four men were filing out.



Zane recognized them all as the men from the honky-tonk, Stuart and his fellow ranch hands from Cactus Creek. They were dusty and dressed in their work clothes. It looked as if they’d come here directly from their ranch. Stuart was limping, trying not to drag his foot. Harrison walked them out, and as soon as the door was shut, Zane stepped out of the alcove. Harrison and Beverly both turned to look at him.



“I’m sorry to have excluded you, Zane, but I felt you would prefer to hear and not be seen,” Beverly said. She smoothed her hands down her suit in a rare gesture of discomfort.



“Thank you, Mother,” Zane said, surprised by her awareness.



“I felt they weren’t here under honest pretenses.”



“They sure as sin weren’t,” Harrison growled. “Trying to figure out how much Ty told us about what happened and whether he was like to wake up again.”



Zane nodded. He’d gathered as much from the snippets he’d heard.



“What’d you tell them?”



“Told them we found him unconscious being eaten by a tiger.”



Zane couldn’t help but laugh.



“They didn’t even take pause at that, like that was normal,” Beverly huffed.



“They kept digging to see if anybody saw anything besides the tiger,” Harrison told Zane.



“Awfully suspicious,” Zane grumbled. “Did you see him limping?”



“Yeah? That mean something to you?” Harrison asked.



Zane nodded. “Ty’s knife was gone. I’d bet anything he put it in that man’s leg.”



Harrison nodded, looking both impressed and worried. “You think your boy can identify them?”



Zane shrugged. Ty had once been able to look at a poker table full of people and tell Zane each player’s tell, down to the type of cuff links one man liked to play with when he was nervous. But there was no telling what details he’d been able to notice after being struck with a dart, alone and under fire. “I don’t know.”



“Well. Soon as he comes to, we’ll call the sheriff. I’m going to get Mark and Annie to come here and hole up, where we can be sure they’re safe.”



Zane nodded, and he looked at his mother again as Harrison left the foyer. Beverly met his eyes, then gave him a nod. Her expression was a mixture of concern and pride, something Zane could honestly say he’d never seen on her before. Was it possible that she was just now realizing that what he’d done with his life was both dangerous and worthwhile? Or was she merely circling the wagons, protecting the family and the ranch like always?



She walked away without saying anything, and Zane put his hand to his chest to rub at his sternum, trying to dispel the tightness there.



Maybe there was hope yet.



They were all gathered for dinner when they heard the shuffling of feet coming down the grand staircase. Zane pushed out of his chair and darted into the foyer, where Ty was staring at the front door as if he was trying to figure out where he was. He turned and met Zane’s eyes for a long moment. There wasn’t much recognition there, and his face was expressionless.