“I was thinking, „Wow, my ribs hurt,” Ty answered as he stumbled sideways.
Zane released him as Shannon took charge and pulled Ty down into the dugout. “He really wanted to be here.” “Not getting what he wants wont kill him,” Shannon informed them both. She shoved at Tys chest, and he fell back onto the old, scarred wooden bench with a thump and a rattle of protective gear. She pointed her finger in his face and waved it. “Something had better damn well blow up out there,” she warned.
“Mommy, I think you need a time-out,” Elaina observed, her young voice wry and amused. Ty merely nodded as he looked up at her with wide eyes. It was kind of funny, really. Zane had never seen Ty act like that around a woman, except maybe his mama. Usually he was all charm and charismatic quips. Zane had to cover his smile with one hand and turn away. When he did, he saw one of the bomb squad team jogging their way. When he got to them, he leaned against the back fence of the dugout to speak to Ty through the chain-link.
“Theres definitely something down there,” the man told them quietly. “Looks like a pressure switch of some sort.” Ty turned his head, and the man kept talking to him in lower tones for a moment before standing abruptly and jogging back toward his truck. Zane stepped down into the dugout to stand next to Ty. “Well?”
Ty looked up at him and licked his lips uneasily. “They think its a pressure switch,” Ty repeated for the people around them. “Bouncing Betty type thing. Bomb squads going to get one of those kamikaze robots out there to poke it,” he told Zane in a lower voice.
Zane sat down next to him. “The games were here yesterday, right? So this had to have been done overnight?”
“Had to be. I was practically laying on the damn thing last night,” Ty muttered. “And it was crooked.”
“Jesus, Grady,” someone from close by said. “Im never making fun of your superstitions again.” “Told you touching home plate before the first pitch was bad luck,” Ty responded under his breath, looking away from Zane as he spoke.
Zane propped his elbows on his knees as he listened to the circus of bomb squad, firemen, news cameras, and cops circling the other ballfield. He didnt want to think about how close Ty had been to bodily harm. He could wish Ty had been in the outfield, but he wouldnt lay odds on someone else noticing the problem with the plate. He sighed and dropped his head, shaking it.
Tys shoulder brushed his, and Zane could feel him thrumming with nervous energy.
“Are we safe here?” someone asked. “Should we get further away?” “Were good,” Ty assured them curtly. “If it does blow before they can disarm it, they say its not packed, so there wont be any shrapnel. Unless it blows the arm off the robot or something.”
“Ive seen that happen,” an unfamiliar voice said from further down the dugout.
“Bullshit,” someone else responded with a laugh.
“Gods honest truth. Arm flew through the air and landed like a damn lawn dart.”
“Would it reach us if that happened?” a worried voice asked. “The robot is made to blow shit up,” Ty answered in an annoyed voice. “The articulating parts dont blow off,” he snapped. On the surface, his tone of voice said he was talking to a civilian who was getting on his nerves, but underneath that Zane recognized his partner was badly shaken. Zane straightened and leaned back, and when he scooted—not a big deal, since people were crammed onto the bench anyway—he slid enough so their legs touched from hip to knee.
“Everybody down!” someone called from somewhere behind Zane. Tys hands were immediately on Zane, tugging at him and pulling him down with everyone else onto the packed dirt. Zane hit the ground hard on his knees, shifting his weight back just in time to avoid falling straight forward onto his face. Ty pulled Shannon and her daughter closer and huddled them all together, wrapping his arm over Zane and pressing him down into the dirt. His chest protector dug into Zanes side as he tried to shield all three of them from the coming blast that supposedly wouldnt reach them.
Sirens blared across the parking lot, and someone shouted into a bullhorn to make certain the area was clear. The scene had to be easier to handle than most, considering everyone there was involved with the city and knew emergency procedures in some fashion. Hell, half of them probably would have been working the scene if theyd been on duty.
It was a long, drawn-out ten seconds of what seemed like pure silence before the explosion sounded. Obviously disarming it hadnt gone well.
Zane winced. It was really, really loud for a bomb little enough to fit under home plate. A whoosh of dirt and small pieces of trash filtered through the chain-link to flutter over them, and Ty curled above him protectively as the air wafted past. He waited a long moment, his fingers digging into Zanes shoulder as he held him, his breaths harsh in Zanes ear. Zane closed his eyes, thankful that Ty was here next to him rather than across the field. He slowly started to sit up.
Ty pushed himself up when he felt Zane moving, and he raised his head and looked around to survey the damage. People around them were coughing and scrabbling around on the ground of the dugout, everyone trying to gain their feet at the same time. Ty pulled himself up unsteadily and looked through the fence as he offered his hand to help Zane or Shannon up.
“Oh God,” he said suddenly, his hand going limp at his side as he pulled his face closer to the chain-link.
Zane got to his feet next to him and looked out across the field with a frown. “What?”
“Garrett,” Ty practically whined as he grabbed at Zanes shoulder. “The Bronco!” The green Bronco rocked as the robotic arm of the bomb robot rolled slowly off the hood. The dent it left behind was massive, giving the distinct impression that the grill was scowling.
“Ouch,” Zane breathed.
“My truck,” Ty whimpered.
“Oh, Ty,” Shannon said sympathetically as she stood and peered out into the parking lot. Someone else down the dugout gave a low whistle, and several of the other agents began laughing. “The articulating parts dont blow off, huh?” someone asked in a teasing voice.
“My truck,” Ty repeated pitifully. “Im sure thatll… buff out, man,” one of them told Ty in a voice that was attempting to be consoling but only managing to waver as the man tried not to laugh.
“In three years, nothing has ever landed there!” Ty cried suddenly. Everyone in the dugout began to laugh. Zane moved slowly, deciding that turning to face Ty and standing between him and the dugout exit was probably not a bad idea. With Tys state of mind, he was liable to run out there and lay himself out over the truck to protect it. After another look at Ty, Zane took hold of his forearm. Just in case.