Cut and Run 7 - Touch and Geaux

But it sure as hell looked better than dying in a hail of bullets.
    Ty tucked his gun back into his belt and darted across the courtyard.
    He dodged creeping vines and salvaged antiques as he ran through the passage, and when he reached the end, he jumped for the gate, grabbing onto the iron with his hands and pushing with his feet. He scaled the gate as wide-eyed tourists and drunk college kids gaped at him from the other side. A frat boy handed his plastic cup to his friend and brought out a phone to begin recording. A horse and carriage clopped along with a young family in tow.
    As Ty reached the top of the gate, where the shards of glass were his last obstacle to freedom, he heard shouting in the courtyard behind him.
    He put a foot on the brick beside him and pressed his shoulder into the opposite wall, walking his feet up the side of the wall until he was high enough to simply twist his body into a flip and free-fall over the gate.
    He landed too hard and rolled into the street, finding himself at the mercy of a very large white horse that tossed its head and snorted.
    Ty scrambled to his feet, backing away from the animal as people broke into excited murmurs around him. He glanced back down the alleyway, edging out of sight behind the horse just as men appeared in the shadows through the wrecked wooden gate.
    “That is so going on YouTube!” the guy with the phone cried.
    Ty climbed onto the carriage.
    “Hey!” the driver started, but Ty put a finger to his lips and showed the man his gun.
    He snatched the man’s top hat, then placed it on his head, slid off the carriage, and hustled to the intersection, hoping to blend in with the crowd.
    As he rounded the corner, a large man stepped in front of him. Shine Gaudet. The man Ty suspected of killing Murdoch. The man who’d picked a girl out of a crowd and choked the life out of her because she resembled his sister. He was 6’8” with arms the size of river logs. Ty had once playfully sparred with him, and he’d been playfully tossed across the room and bruised three ribs in the process.
    “Well if it ain’t Tyler Beaumont,” Shine drawled. He smirked.
    Ty took a step back. “Let’s be calm about this, bubba.”
    Shine raised his fist, displaying his knuckles to Ty. His attention shifted from Ty to his fist with a widening smile, then he opened his hand, turning his palm up to display a handful of gray dust. With one big puff, he blew the dust into Ty’s face.
    Ty held his breath and kept his eyes closed. He could hear Shine laughing, a deep rumbling sound that began to fade into the distance as Ty tried to wipe the dust away with his sleeve. His knees hit the pavement, and his world faded to nothing before the rest of his body could contact the ground.

    Zane bulled his way through the electronic door almost before the nurse had it open. He didn’t bother with appearances as he jogged down the hall.
    Everyone had tumbled out of the stolen sedan at the emergency entrance, and Zane had rolled over the console to get to the front seat. He and Liam had then peeled away in the car, trying to lead any pursuers away from the others. They’d ditched the car several blocks away, and Zane had been hard-pressed to keep up with Liam as they’d raced back toward the hospital. They hadn’t had a chance to speak a word, but Zane had infinite questions for the man.
    When he rounded the corner, Zane saw their companions loitering around one of the emergency bays near a closed curtain. His heart sped up, making him dizzy as he neared them.
    Digger was pacing in front of the curtain, fingers laced at the back of his head. The other two were sitting, both of them covering their faces with their hands. All three men were bloody. Bloody gauze littered the floors. Even the curtain had a bloody streak on the edge where someone had grabbed it.
    Zane was nearly hyperventilating as he approached. Liam’s breaths were harsh and loud behind him.
    Nick looked up at the sound of their approach. His shirtfront was soaked red, his eyes gray, his face streaked with blood and tears. He had a butterfly bandage on his cheek.
    Zane slowed, dreading what he might find.
    “Kelly?” Zane asked hesitantly.
    Nick shook his head, then lowered it again and covered his face in both hands.
    “They took him into surgery,” Owen managed to say. “We haven’t heard anything.”
    Zane breathed a sigh of relief. Surgery at least meant he wasn’t dead when they’d carried him