Cut and Run 7 - Touch and Geaux

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 them.
    Someone hit Zane from behind, wrapping his head up in a black cloth and restraining his arms as he was shoved forward. He could hear Ty shouting as he struggled with his attackers, but they were both overpowered and shoved into the back of the unmarked van.
    The van pulled away from the curb as the sliding door slammed shut.
    “Stop struggling,” a voice ordered Zane as his hands and feet were held down against a seat that smelled like Febreze. “We’ll be there soon,” the kidnapper promised with a sadistic laugh.
    “Garrett, don’t kill anyone,” Ty muttered from another row seat. He sounded calm, and Zane forced himself not to thrash and struggle. They’d have a better chance of escape once the van stopped moving.
    Roughly fifteen minutes and a lot of traffic later, the van came to a jarring stop. The door opened, and Zane was dragged out and put on his feet. The hood was yanked off, and Zane blinked a few times as he found himself standing in what was unmistakably the French Quarter. He saw a lamppost with black street signs for Bourbon and St. Philip. The building in front of them was ancient, with timbers and stacked brick showing through the cracking plaster. The second story had no balcony or gallery like most of the French Quarter architecture, just a few dormer windows with light shining through their shutters.
    An old wooden plank sign that said Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop was hanging over one of the many open doors. And there were people everywhere. The van pulled away, leaving them standing in the middle of St. Philip with their kidnappers and dozens of drunk revelers staring at them.
    The men who’d snatched them were laughing and patting him on the shoulder. He glared at them, recognizing one of the four as he finally got a good look.
    Nick O’Flaherty. “You fall for it every time, man,” he said to Ty, a hand on his shoulder as Ty glared at him. If Nick was here, then Zane could only assume the identities of the other three. Their faces matched those of the photos on Ty’s walls. Sidewinder.
    “Asshole,” Ty said, voice flat.
    Nick grinned and pulled Ty into a hug. “You’re an asshole too,” Ty said to Digger, who gave Ty’s back a pat and stepped away.
    Ty was smiling, though he was trying not to, as each of the other men greeted him in turn. Kelly Abbott was there, and Zane was surprised to see Owen Johns present. The last time he’d heard anything about Owen was after Ty had come out to his recon team and Owen had stormed off.
    “Zane,” Nick greeted. He held his hand out to Zane. “Sorry about that,” he added, smiling widely.
    “You’re an incredible asshole,” Zane said. “What the hell is this?”
    Ty glanced at him and shook his head, starting to grin wider. “I can only assume this is a birthday party.”
    “For a psychopath?”
    Ty gave him a sad smile and nodded.
    “Elias Sanchez,” Nick answered, and with the name, the five Marines grew more somber.
    Zane inclined his head. Sanchez had lost his life not in battle, but to a serial killer in New York City. The same killer who’d almost taken Ty from them as well, the same one Zane had killed.
    “Tomorrow would have been his fortieth birthday,” Kelly offered.
    “No it wouldn’t,” Ty said.
    “But tomorrow’s his birthday.”
    “Kelly, man, he was the same age as me and Nick,” Ty said with an exasperated wave of his hand. Nick covered his mouth.
    Kelly frowned and glanced around. “How old are you?”
    “Thirty-seven.”
    Digger pursed his lips. “Anyway. Tomorrow’s Sanchez’s birthday. Ty’s always refused to come party in NOLA, so we knew we’d have to bait-and-switch you down here.”
    “Wow,” Zane grunted. He had a feeling the Recon boys had no idea why Ty refused to come to New Orleans. They didn’t know luring him here could have put him in danger, and knowing Ty, he wouldn’t tell them now. Zane decided to keep his mouth shut.
    Digger leaned toward Ty, raising his eyebrows. “And we can’t celebrate anywhere else because why?”
    Ty rolled his eyes and looked at his feet, shuffling. “Because Digger isn’t allowed to leave the state for another year.”
    “Because why?”
    “Because we