Stars & Stripes
Page 34

The floorboards creaked behind him and he whirled to give his mother another piece of his mind. He drew up short when he found Ty standing there.
“You okay?” Ty asked, his voice gentle.
Zane struggled for a breath and realized he was about to start hyperventilating. He was definitely not okay.
The next thing he knew, Ty was beside him and pulling him into a tight embrace. He squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at Ty’s shirt, hurting so much he couldn’t imagine standing at all if it weren’t for Ty holding him up. Ty’s hand came to rest on the back of Zane’s head.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Breathe.”
Zane was shaking, falling apart. His own mother. “Ty, she—”
“I know, I heard.” The anger in Ty’s voice was masked by layers of warmth and support as he murmured into Zane’s ear. “Family ain’t all about blood, Zane. It’ll be okay.”
The soft West Virginia twang was more comforting than Zane would have expected, but he still buried his face in the crook of Ty’s neck. He just needed another minute to let the pain peak. He could understand why she didn’t like that he was with Ty. Prejudices ran deep, as did the desire to continue the Garrett name, and to Beverly Carter-Garrett, appearances were everything. But couldn’t she just be pleased to have him happy, like a real mother? Why the hell couldn’t she give Ty a chance?
Zane gritted his teeth and tried to get himself under control. The tears weren’t cooperating.
Ty stood and held him close for long minutes, long enough for Zane to pull himself together. He took a deep breath and stepped back.
Ty took his face in both hands and looked him in the eyes. “Feel better?”
Zane nodded and covered Ty’s hands with his own. “I don’t understand.”
Ty’s rough palm brushed over his cheek. “She’s lashing out the only way she knows how. Give it time.”
Zane closed his eyes as he pressed his cheek against Ty’s hand. “I’ve given it more than forty years,” he said, and it came out more harshly than he’d planned. “I’m not giving it any more. I hope you’re not too fond of Texas. I think I’d rather steer clear for a while.”
“Steer clear?” Ty asked drily. “Is that a cow joke?”
Zane choked on a laugh and whacked his knuckles against Ty’s chest. Ty reached out and hugged him again, and Zane held him close, thanking God that he’d found him. It didn’t matter what happened or what they went through, Ty always seemed to know how to make it better.
Zane frowned as he twisted a pink balloon around and around, forming it into what would ultimately look like a wiener dog with a huge nose. He tied off the last twist and held it up for Sadie.
“That doesn’t look like a pony, Uncle Z,” she said, scowling.
“But it’s pink.”
She narrowed her eyes, and after a long moment she petted his knee with a sigh. “It’s okay. You’ll do better next time.” Then she snatched the wiener pony out of his hand and went running.
Zane coughed against a laugh and glanced across the table at the others. Annie and Mark were laughing, their eyes on Sadie as she caroused. Zane’s gaze fell upon Ty. He was lounging and hiding a smile behind his hand, watching Zane.
“Shut up,” Zane grumbled, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Ty.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You try it next time.”
Ty chuckled and winked at him. He’d already regaled a group of the younger kids with magic, making a coin disappear and then pulling it out of Sadie’s ear, amongst other tricks. The only thing Zane could do that didn’t involve a knife was make a balloon animal. He’d made swords or those nebulous four-legged animals for each child. Now they were all swashbuckling and pretending to be tigers with their balloons.
There was a loud pop from somewhere nearby, and Zane cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, hoping no one had noticed him staring at his lover. No one was paying any attention to him, though.
The annual Carter Garrett Steers and Stripes Barbeque was in full swing.
Hundreds of people were in attendance, laughing, dancing, eating, and drinking. Kids roamed the crowd in packs. The sheriff and his men were here, as were several animal control officers.
Amidst the festivities was an undercurrent of tension. Barnum the Bengal tiger was still out there somewhere, and there was a high possibility he’d fixated on Ty’s scent as something familiar. The poachers were still free and running around, probably even at the party. And the news of Beverly’s ultimatum had spread through the family, the ranch hands, and the guests. Soon it would be all the way to Austin, and that seemed to be the biggest news of all. Zane was surprised to find that while some seemed to approve of Beverly’s “tough love” approach, most were appalled. She was being snubbed by a few individuals that shocked even Zane. But then, so was he.
“Donations for the trick shooting contest are about to close, ladies and gentlemen,” Harrison called out from the flatbed trailer they’d turned into a flag-festooned stage. “All proceeds this year will be donated to local animal shelters and the Roaring Springs Big Cat Sanctuary. You can sponsor a shooter for two hundred dollars. Let’s have a few more contestants.”
“You two ought to shoot, Z,” Annie said, looking across the round table at Ty and Zane.
Mark narrowed his eyes at Ty. “I suppose Grady would give a good showing. From what I remember, you were pretty good at the competitions.”
Ty shrugged, a mixture of humility and nonchalance. Zane was still trying to shake the nagging feeling that they would be putting Mark in handcuffs soon. With that and the ultimatum from his mother, he was having a hard time concentrating on what was going on around them.
He tore his eyes away from Ty and adjusted his hat.
“What do you think, Ty?” Annie asked. “Are you two good enough to compete?”
Zane tried not to smile too much as he glanced at his partner. They had no idea what he and Ty were capable of. Zane almost wanted to see Ty show them all what he could do.
“I don’t know, we do okay,” Ty answered with a careless shrug. He took another drink of his beer, then glanced over at the large area they’d cleared for the shooting gallery. “Trick shots don’t usually have much to do with how good a shot you are.”
Marissa leaned forward. She was sitting on Cody’s lap, and they’d been whispering and flirting for most of the day. “Why do you say that? I’ve been watching this stuff all my life, and it’s always the best shots who win.”
Ty shook his head. “It doesn’t just take shooting straight. It takes practice. It’s kind of like playing mini golf; they’re more like puzzles than pure tests of ability. Same guy who can hit a moving target at a hundred yards can’t always hit a penny on a fence post with a mirror. And a dude who can shoot the fluffy part off a toothpick at thirty yards while he’s hanging upside down by his balls might not hit a moving truck if it was trying to run him over.”
That drew a round of laughs, and Zane shook his head as he drank from his water bottle. It was hot, hotter than he remembered from his youth. He could feel the sweat making its way through his shirt. Ty had one of his Buffs around his forehead, sitting under his hat, and another around his wrist that he used periodically to wipe the sweat away from anywhere that needed. Zane imagined it was a system he’d created while in the Corps.
“You get a lot of target practice working for the FBI?” Cody asked. “I didn’t even think to ask if you carry normally or if it’s just been since you came to Texas.”
“Not exactly target practice,” Zane said under his breath. He ran his water bottle over his forehead.
Ty shot him a grin and emptied his beer. “Nothing too exciting,” he answered, tongue-in-cheek. “But yeah, we carry all the time.”
Cody nodded.
“I think you should enter, Z. Someone from the family should,” Annie said.
“Since when is Mark not family?” Zane asked.
“Jackass,” Mark said with a snort. “You know she means a blood relative.”
“You’ll have to talk to Mother about that,” Zane said, trying not to sound bitter and failing.
“Come on, Zane,” Annie whispered. Zane shrugged.
“How about it, Grady?” Mark said. “We’ll all enter, see who’s held onto their skills.”
Zane glanced between them, not sure why Mark would warn him about Ty being unstable and dangerous and then try to get Ty to enter a shooting contest. Perhaps it was just a little too much testosterone for his brother-in-law to handle. Or maybe Mark was trying to find a reason to have a loaded gun pointed at Ty’s head.
Ty glanced at Zane and gave a lazy shrug. “I got three beers in me, no way I should be trick shooting.”
Mark laughed and threw back the rest of his beer.
The sheriff walked up to their table as they talked, tipping his hat when they all looked at him.
“Sheriff Barnes,” Zane with a smile. “Any news for us?”
“Some,” the man said, as unflappable and unreadable as ever. “We found the vet practice the tranquilizers were stolen from.”
“That’s great!” Annie said. She sat forward in her chair.
“Yes, ma’am. Unfortunately, it was yours.”
“What?” Her smile morphed into a horrified gape.
Zane glanced at his sister, then he met Ty’s eyes. Ty was looking at the table, probably trying to observe Mark’s reaction without being noticed. There was another point against him.
“I reported it missing the other night when I was taking stock of everything,” Marissa admitted, looking mortified.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Annie asked.
“I thought it was drug seekers, not tiger poachers!”
“We’ll flag ’em down,” the sheriff said. He tipped his hat. “Y’all enjoy the party.”
He sauntered away, leaving a pall over their little gathering.
“What does that mean?” Annie finally asked.
Ty and Zane shared a look, but neither was willing to answer.
“Oh no,” Annie said.
Zane glanced up, but Annie was peering past his shoulder at someone else approaching. Zane turned to find Stuart walking toward them.
“Garrett,” Stuart said. He touched the brim of his hat with a finger and Zane stood to meet him. “I come to apologize to you and . . . your friend.”
Zane couldn’t help it when his eyebrows climbed high.
“Well, that’s . . . decent of you,” Zane said.
Stuart held out his hand, but Zane hesitated before taking it. After the things this man had said to him, and more importantly, to Ty, Zane wasn’t feeling overly friendly. He also had pretty solid suspicions that Stuart and his buddies were behind the tiger poaching, and one of them had probably shot his father. Still, he didn’t want to tip his cards yet, so he took the hand Stuart offered.
Stuart turned to Ty, offering to shake. Ty didn’t stand; he merely drank his beer, one foot on the edge of the table in front of him, leaning back in his chair.
“It’s Grady, right?” Stuart asked. “Staff Sergeant Grady?”
Ty looked at the man’s hand, then at him. Zane glanced between them, wondering how the hell anyone had learned Ty had been a Staff Sergeant. He glanced at Mark as another wave of suspicion went through him.
It was impossible to see Ty’s expression between the aviators and the Stetson. “Nice limp.”
“Accidents happen when you work on a ranch.”
Ty cocked his head, examining the man’s leg. Zane knew his partner was seeing what no one else was.
“You’re not going to shake my hand?” Stuart demanded.
Ty waited another few heartbeats, long enough to make the man even more uncomfortable. Then he slid to his feet. He was several inches taller, and when he stood, his proximity forced Stuart to take a step back. Ty offered his left hand, and Stuart was obligated to give him an awkward, backwards handshake. For whatever reason, it pissed the man off. He didn’t say anything else, just turned on his heel and walked away. He was indeed limping, and it seemed more pronounced than it had several days ago.
“That was weird,” Mark said, frowning hard.
Zane nodded.
Ty took a long drink of his beer. “Is he one of the shooters?” he asked, voice filled with cruel anticipation that sent a shiver of pleasure up Zane’s spine.
“I believe he is,” Joe answered, smiling. “He and his buddy damn near beat Jamie and Mark last year.”
Ty nodded. “I’m in.”
The others let out whoops and started banging on the table, and Zane couldn’t help but laugh. He set down his drink. “I guess we ought to pay in, then.”
The others chattered as Zane and Mark walked over to the stage to make the donations. When he returned to the table, Zane stopped at Ty’s side and looked down at him. “All these boys are good. You better bring your A-game, Grady.”
Ty just smiled and stood, reaching out to grab the three bottle caps he’d collected and slide them into his pocket. “Ladies,” he drawled as they left the table.
Ty’s shoulder bumped Zane’s as they walked, and it was harder than Zane expected to keep from wrapping his arm around his partner. He talked to distract himself.
“There’s several events, and they tally scores for individuals and teams as we go along.” They made their way to the shooting gallery, set up in a nearby corral. No one was allowed in before the contest started, to avoid any unfair advantages.