Cut and Run 7 - Touch and Geaux

this went to hell, that swamp was their only hope.
    Liam made a low whistling sound through the device in Zane’s ear. “Little touch and go there, lads. Who do I shoot first if things go to hell?”
    Zane made a shushing sound.
    “The information you gathered?” Gaudet demanded.
    “Katrina wiped it out,” Ty said quickly. “Everything I had, it’s gone. There’s nothing left on you.”
    Gaudet pursed his lips and nodded curtly. It seemed to Zane that Ty had merely confirmed what Gaudet already knew. “It’ll do. Ava, girl, get back here.”
    “ Mais non !” Ty cried.
    “I think I’ll be taking her with me,” Zane growled. “Payment for services rendered.”
    She gulped air, trying not to cry as she gripped the back of Ty’s shirt. Ty was covertly slicing through the ropes at his wrists with the knife she’d slipped him, preparing for everything to go to hell. Ava was made of tough stuff, Zane could say that about her. But she was about to fall apart.
    “Shoot him now, Xander, or I will,” Valencia called, obviously tiring of the family drama.
    “Ava, run,” Ty gasped. “Run!”
    Ava backed away a few steps. Zane rounded on Ty, putting his back to the Colombians and raising his gun. He pointed it at Ty’s chest. He met Ty’s eyes, seeing the fear there, the uncertainty.
    “One,” Liam said in his ear. “Two.”
    “Zane,” Ty whispered. Zane’s world began to slow.
    “Three.”
    Ava darted forward, grabbing Ty’s shoulder and swinging around him. Zane pulled the trigger. The blast echoed through the park, two shots becoming one.
    Ty’s shout was lost in the sound of the shot. The bullet thumped into her back and threw her into Ty. He caught her around the waist as she fell, crying out, cradling her with a hand to her face as they both dropped to the ground.
    “Shit!” Liam shouted. “Son of a bitch! Stupid fucking girl!”
    Other shouts mingled with the hammering of Zane’s heart in his ears. He took a step toward them, watching as Ty laid her lifeless body on the ground, his hands shaking and covered with blood.
    “Oh God, Ty.”
    Zane could hear guns being drawn behind him. Ty grabbed Zane’s hand and pulled himself to his feet. He shoved his shoulder into Zane’s body, spinning them, forcing Zane to use him as a shield. He held Zane’s hand behind his back, squeezing it hard, refusing to allow Zane to let go as Gaudet and his men opened fire on them.
    Ty’s body jerked against Zane’s as the first bullet hit, then again and again, shoving Zane back, forcing him off-balance.
    The Colombians opened fire on the crooked cops, offering Zane the covering fire they thought an informant of theirs deserved, mowing them down like ducks in a gallery with their high-powered weapons.
    Zane’s back hit the pavement, the weight of Ty’s body pinning him. The back of Ty’s head banged into Zane’s lip and he tasted blood. More gunfire came from the swamp. Patches of swamp grass were rising from the mire. Sidewinder.
    Mateo Valencia strolled toward them. He was shaking his head, reloading his gun.
    “Ty, get off me, come on,” Zane grunted. He pushed at Ty’s shoulder, but Ty merely gasped a ragged breath in response. “Ty?”
    “You think I forgive so easily?” Valencia asked Zane in Spanish. He ran a finger along the scar on his cheek as he loomed over Zane.
    Zane freed his arm and fired before Valencia could finish his reload. It was a blank round, but he still staggered back, swiping at singed pieces of his suit and bleeding where the paper plug had embedded in his neck. He shouted, aiming his gun at Zane’s head. But he never got to fire. One flick of Zane’s wrist, and the Vega cartel’s top enforcer fell to the ground with a knife in his heart, his gun sliding from his hand, useless.
    Zane scrambled from under his partner’s weight and knelt beside him, finally yanking the bandana off his face and tossing it aside. Ty was covered in blood from his chin to his knees, though what was real and what was fake, Zane couldn’t tell. Ty blinked up at the gray sky, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come. There were half a dozen bullet holes in his chest.
    “Oh Jesus, Ty,” Zane cried. He laid his gun aside and bent over Ty, grabbing his face with both hands. “Ty!”
    Ty struggled to take in air to respond. He reached up to grab Zane’s wrist instead, gripping it hard. He closed his eyes.
    “Ty, please,” Zane whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”
    Ty opened his