covered in sweat and a fine layer of
red dust. They wedged the device into the hole, both of them straining
to set it just so. It had to be perfect, or the pressure switch on the top
wouldn‟t activate unless someone stood on top of it and danced.
It was a large bomb. Big enough to leave a crater where home
plate was and kill everyone in a ten-foot radius even if it was
underground when it went off. Pierce belatedly realized that they
wouldn‟t be able to hide all the excess dirt, and he frowned heavily as
he mopped at his brow. The air was cold against his skin, but the
adrenaline was combating the bitter chill. Their plan was working so
far, and no one was the wiser yet because he planned ahead. That was
why, after the first couple of bombs had gone smoothly, he‟d set up the
dry run at the aquarium—easy enough, since he worked there part
time—to check the city‟s adjusted emergency response.
“Start putting that extra dirt in the bag. I‟ll set the switch,” he
ordered.
“Can‟t we just spread it out?”
“These are cops, man. They only way they won‟t notice if there‟s
like ten pounds of extra dirt out here in the morning is if they‟re high.”
“Fine,” Graham muttered.
“Hurry up. And make sure the plate‟s straight. We still have one
more thing to take care of,” Pierce grunted as he eyed the Bronco in the
shadows of the parking lot.
He‟d show Mr. Mysterious B. Tyler Grady what it was like to be
kicked in the ass.
Divide & Conquer | 51
Chapter Four
THE first thing Ty noticed was that it was hot. The air he inhaled,
whatever he was sprawled on, what was thrown over him—including a
heavy body that lay against him; it was all stiflingly hot. To add insult
to injury, when he cautiously cracked one eye open, it was bright and
sunny, because the blinds were only half-drawn.
His head felt like it was full of cotton, and his limbs were heavy
and uncooperative. He groaned and began pushing at the covers and the
dead weight against him. It shifted almost immediately and rolled
away.
“You okay?” Zane said, voice rough with sleep.
“Hot,” Ty grunted accusingly. He pushed at Zane again and
winced with the pressure on his sore body.
Zane scooted back, and the heat radiating from him faded. He
also pushed the blanket down, leaving only the thin cotton sheet over
Ty‟s lower body. Ty kicked one leg out and rolled flat, closing his eyes
and lifting his chin, sprawling as the cool air hit him.
“Better,” he muttered, though his ears seemed to be buzzing like
he was hungover.
Zane shifted around, moving the mattress slightly. “How‟re you
feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” Ty answered plaintively.
“You said a tank, actually.” The bed shifted again, and Zane was
off the mattress and moving. “Hurting?”
52 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Ty opened his eyes to follow Zane around the room. “A little,
yeah,” he admitted. He tried to sit up slowly but gave up on it and eased
himself back down with a groan. “A lot. Hungover.”
Zane stopped at his side. “What can I get you?” He was watching
Ty in clear concern.
Ty waved him off and shook his head, then winced. He closed his
eyes and rubbed his fingers across his forehead slowly, massaging and
trying to make the cotton feeling go away. It was rare that he felt so
crappy he didn‟t even think about groping Zane when he woke up next
to him. “What time is it?”
“About nine.”
Ty sat up quickly, instantly regretting it even as he kicked what
remained of the sheets away and tried to get out of bed. “I‟m gonna be
late!”
“Late for what? It‟s Sunday morning,” Zane said, stepping back
to get out of Ty‟s way.
“The game! Yesterday was just the first round of that stupid
Goodwill tournament.” Ty took a step and stopped short as the room
wobbled around him. “Whoa.”
Zane was suddenly there, hands under his elbows to help him
regain his
Aziz Ansari, Eric Klinenberg