Cut & Run (3 page)

Eight murders and counting. The only two that hadn’t been positioned after death (or killed creatively, as Ty thought of it) were the two FBI agents who had been investigating the murders. Two trained agents, both with military backgrounds, shot point-blank in their hotel room before either man could even fire a weapon. And the only reason the Bureau attributed their deaths to the killer was because they were working on his case, and the FBI didn’t believe in coincidences.

Cut & Run | 11

Ty shook his head and sighed, glancing at his watch with a blink.

“Fuck,” he groaned, digging in his pocket for money to leave on the table as he gathered his highly classified information and unceremoniously stuffed it under his jacket. He had things to do tomorrow— today, really—before he had to fly out early Monday morning.

ZANE sat at his dining room table, a whole stack of copied files spread out in front of him. Case details, reports, autopsy recalls, scene photographs, forensic evidence … there was so much to read through, so many details.

Details that caught and filtered through Zane’s analytical mind. He’d been sifting through notes for hours trying to identify patterns, not in the case itself, but in the standard structure of investigation: where it was followed precisely, where it differed, where there were gaps in the investigation, where there was too much useless information. There’d been so many people on this job that it was already a mess.

All of that, he thought, as he shifted to take a bite of a late Sunday dinner of chicken and grape salad, was easy enough to track. He’d already decided to give a few specialty agents a call to ask questions; maybe Serena Scott in New York’s Behavior Analysis Unit could help. She looked at murders all the time, and although this case was driving them crazy, she could explain some things for Zane. Murder wasn’t exactly his forte. Plus, she owed him a favor.

A man didn’t work at the FBI for nearly twenty years and not collect favors.

Sighing, he pushed away the coroner’s reports comparison chart he’d made and carried his bowl to the kitchen sink, washing it out carefully before wiping the counter down. He glanced at the clock on the wall, straightened his shoulders, and cracked his neck. He’d have to leave extra early to get from Arlington to Dulles by 0530 to catch the plane. And he’d need every bit of patience and fortitude he could scrape up to get through what he knew was coming.

IT was a commercial flight, and the tickets were waiting for them at the airline’s front desk. Ty rolled his head from side to side and loosened his tie, grumbling unhappily as he walked in the hazy predawn through the parking 12 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

lot. He had his suit jacket over one arm and two duffel bags of clothing and gear slung over his shoulder. He carried a beaten and scarred leather satchel by a strap across his chest as he walked. He was running just a little late, but he wasn’t exactly worried about it. When he got inside, his tie askew and his suit coat wrinkled, he finally pulled the satchel over his head and plunked everything down to shrug into the jacket. He then hefted everything again, repositioned the bags, and made his way to the check-in desk.

“I knew you’d be late,” Zane commented as Ty walked past him.

“And I knew you’d still have that stick up your ass,” Ty responded with a shake of his head, not slowing as Zane spoke to him.

Ty’s smart-ass response didn’t rate a reply. Zane waited for him to get his ticket and check his bags before falling in beside him to walk to security.

They’d met a total of two times now, and Zane had the same fleeting impression: Ty was an asshole who’d been lucky enough in the red zone to make it this far. And the Bureau wanted him to be lucky some more, but they didn’t want to risk anything going wrong (because Ty was so very obviously insane), and that was why the very efficient Zane Garrett was charged with holding his leash.

It made Zane tired just thinking about it.

They showed their identification and were waved through security after a brief check. Still thinking about Ty’s shit-for-attitude, Zane amused himself by thinking about what Ty must have had to do to pass muster. All agents went through the academy’s sixteen-week New Agents Training Unit, and then they were farmed out and specialized. Because of his background, Zane excelled in the finer points of the law. Layers of information. Patterns.

Details. Puzzles. It surprised people that Zane had a brain to go with his brawn, and he’d used it to his benefit many times.

Way back when, the Bureau assigned him to the Criminal Investigation Division of the Criminal Investigations Branch, working on financial crime. As he got more cases under his belt, he shifted to organized crime and informant matters, which put him into a brief stint in undercover work. Several personal and professional swerves and wild dives later, he was moved out of the CID and into the Cyber Division, digging up and dusting off those old pattern and detail skills to reestablish himself and hopefully polish his very tarnished reputation. He tried not to think about that tarnish often.

He was starting to suspect Ty Grady possessed a completely different set of specializations, and Zane was absolutely sure that they wouldn’t mesh with his own. Looking over his new partner, Zane decided immediately that Cut & Run | 13

Ty obviously wouldn’t have any trouble with the physical side of the job. He was an inch or two shorter than Zane, but his muscle weight probably equaled Zane’s own. He was physically impressive, no doubt, and together they were clearly intimidating as they walked through the terminal.

It was the mental aspects of Ty’s abilities that Zane pondered almost gleefully as they moved. Zane wondered if Ty would even be able to handle any of it, or if that was why Zane had been partnered with the guy; to be the brains of the operation, so to speak.

“Listen up, ’cause I'm only gonna say this once,” Ty muttered as they walked to their gate. “I don’t talk when I fly. I sleep. And I don’t listen when I eat, understand? I don’t wanna be buddies. I don’t wanna
chat
,” he said with a sarcastic lilt to the word. “I don’t wanna know about your childhood or how your momma whipped you with a rubber glove or how much therapy you had to go through ’cause you flunked out of preschool. I don’t wanna hear about how you want to be Director someday or how many collars you got chasin’

those Internet freaks or how proud you are of your bowel movements. I don’t wanna go shopping at Barney’s with you, and I’m not gonna help you pick out your ties to match your socks and, I swear to God, if you get me shot, I’ll kill you.”

As he followed the other agent onto the plane and found his seat, stoic demeanor in place, Zane couldn’t decide whether to be offended, upset, or just sad. Punching his new partner would likely not be condoned, and he wasn’t sure Grady wouldn’t give as good as he got just to cause a scene. But what a miserable life the man must have. Well, he wasn’t the only one who had had it hard. Zane tried hard to sublimate the anger that line of thought caused, but so far, Ty just made him want to reach out and throttle the shit out of him.

Wouldn’t the Bureau just
love
that?

He decided it was best—for all parties involved—to ignore the man beside him. He went ahead and pulled out the comparative chart he’d made of the coroner’s information with notes all over it in his tiny, crablike handwriting. At least some of the time could be well-spent.

Ty sighed heavily as he flopped into his seat and shook his head as he dug out the seat belt. His brand new partner had failed the first test. Anyone who would quietly take the vitriol he had just spewed without so much as a

“fuck you” in return was nothing but a brown-nosing ladder-climber who should have been riding a desk or working in the civilian market. At least his last partner had given as good as he got, he thought with a wince.

Zane heard the annoyed exhalation and ignored it. He gritted his teeth and wished there was some way to get out of this assignment. It was going to 14 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

be an utter debacle, and he likely wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He wondered what ninth level of clerking hell he would be demoted to if this went wrong, or what type of civilian job he could get after he was kicked out of the Bureau. That upset him more than anything, thinking of all the years going to waste.

The flight was only about an hour long, and Ty planned to sit there and sleep the entire fucking way. The kid kicking the seat behind him was the only thing keeping him awake as the plane taxied down the runway. He turned around and peered through the coach seats, his hazel eyes piercing the kid as he narrowed them.

“Kick it one more time, and I’ll rip your toes off and eat ’em,” he promised.

“Have some decency,” Zane chastised as his head turned to the side to check the situation. “He’s gotta be three. He doesn’t know any better.”

“He does now,” Ty countered as he turned back around and settled into his seat contentedly. Behind him a horrified young mother was holding her son’s toes and gaping, wide-eyed and speechless.

“You have absolutely no people skills,” Zane muttered, shaking his head. “No wonder you’re sinking fast in the Bureau.”

“Yeah, I’m a real anchor,” Ty drawled as he leaned his head back and smiled. “I hear no one else will work with you.”

Zane’s lips pressed together slightly and he didn’t look up from his paperwork. “You should have your hearing checked,” he said flatly.

“My hearing’s just fine, Skippy. You were ‘promoted,’ right?” Ty asked sarcastically, giving the word quotations with his fingers without opening his eyes. “Hate to tell you, Sport, but being transferred to another division in the same level ain’t a promotion. It’s called shuffling the unwanted.”

“Reliable information, I’m sure, from someone on a landslide
down
the ladder.”

“We both seem to be on the slip ‘n’ slide to the gutter, Shuffleboard,”

Ty observed happily. “Difference is, I don’t give a shit,” he offered as he reached up and turned off the overhead light and adjusted the cool air blowing down on him.

Zane didn’t reply, instead closing his eyes for a moment to swallow down on the flare of annoyance. It was true. Ty didn’t give a shit. But Zane Cut & Run | 15

did, which meant they were destined to be at each other’s throats the whole time they were forced to work together.

Ty merely snickered quietly, knowing he had hit a chord. This could provide some amusement after all, he decided, even if they did end up killing each other.

Zane focused again on the notes. The rest of the flight passed in silence. Details about the deaths bounced around in his head, not really settling into any sort of pattern yet. He would dig the photos out and study them once they got settled. Maybe he could get a feeling for each victim.

He glanced up when the seat-belt light went on, and he looked over at Ty unhappily. The other man had dozed lightly in expectation of the long day ahead, and Zane decided that Ty sleeping was him at his most charming. But now he had to wake him up.

“Grady,” he muttered, voice clipped.

“Not again, sugar, m’tired,” Ty muttered as he flopped onto his side and jostled them both in the cramped seats.

Unamused, Zane pushed against the other man. “Grady,” he said more insistently. “Wake up.”

Ty huffed and opened his eyes slowly, looking around sleepily.

“Hmm?”

Zane looked down at him, mildly surprised by the momentary drop in the rough attitude. “We’re getting ready to land,” he murmured.

Ty groaned softly and rolled onto his back again. He stretched his arms high over his head, yawning as he turned his body slightly and reached one arm way out into the aisle. The air hostess who was making her last check down the aisle walked right into his hand and gasped as he grabbed her. Ty dropped his arms and twisted to look up at her. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he offered with a small, unrepentant smile.

She huffed slightly and gave him a wry smile as she turned in the aisle. “I’ve had worse,” she murmured in response as she bent and slowly buckled his seat belt for him. “Put yourself in the upright position, please,”

she said to him softly before moving away. Ty raised his seat obediently and grinned, watching her with a contented smirk as she turned and continued on down the aisle.

16 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

While Zane silently envied Ty’s free attitude and behavior, in the end, he just couldn’t believe the man’s gall. “How did you become such a total ass?” he asked, morbidly curious.

Ty cocked his head and watched the woman until she took her seat, then turned to look at Zane. “I didn’t mean to,” he insisted innocently. “C

cups can get in the way.”

Zane’s look was patently disbelieving. “I think you decide what a perfectly polite person would do and then do the absolute opposite. It’s like it’s your life’s goal to be the Antichrist.”

“The Antichrist,” Ty echoed, laughing as he shook his head. “Yeah. I bet you were head of the Drama Club in school, weren’t you?”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“And Lord knows I mean everything I say,” Ty responded with mock sincerity, pressing his hand to his heart and leaning closer to Zane earnestly.

“You just have that look,” Zane confirmed, face stilled to passivity.

Ty chuckled and turned to look back at the front of the plane as the wheels squealed on the tarmac and the plane decelerated rapidly. “You’re gonna have to dislodge that stick up your ass pretty damn quick if we’re going to be working together,” he added as the plane taxied to their gate. He unbuckled before the seat-belt light went off and rolled his neck.

“What’s the matter? Afraid it’s catching?” Zane asked. His patience was already wearing thin. He didn’t have the time or the luxury to deal with Ty’s antics.

“No, I’m not afraid of turning into you,” Ty answered wryly, laughing softly as he shook his head. He leaned closer to Zane, almost close enough to touch his cheek with his nose. “You smell like Feeb,” he explained in a low, serious voice. He was probably one of the only FBI agents who would actually utter the derogatory term other agencies used when talking about them.