Cut & Run (35 page)

Zane shook his head. “Are you feeling this, too?” he rasped. This insane, blown-away pleasure, the near impossible-to-assuage hunger, the ache deep inside, contrasted by short moments of tenderness that seemed so out of place. Zane certainly wasn’t sure where they came from, but oh, God …

Ty watched him, still trying to slow his breathing and holding him at arm’s distance. “No,” he lied blithely.

Knowing full well what Ty was saying, Zane let out a pent-up breath before slowly shaking his head. “Me, either,” he said, voice more intent than he’d meant it to be. His eyes stayed unswervingly on his partner.

Ty was nodding almost fervently even as Zane spoke. “Good,” he breathed quietly. “That’s good.”

Zane nodded slowly. “Yeah … good.”

ROUGHLY an hour later, Zane and Ty sat in a booth at the Hard Rock Cafe, Ty shifting restlessly in a new jacket he had sworn he would never like as they both pretended not to be watching the door.

“I don’t know why you’re pissy about the jacket,” Zane said to him, admiring the black leather as he tapped his unlit cigarette on the table. Damn no-smoking-in-restaurants ordinances. “I should have gotten one. Been a few years since I had a leather jacket.”

“It’s black,” Ty huffed. “And it smells new.”

“They had brown,” Zane pointed out, eyes studying the busy crowd.

“There’s no help for it smelling new, unless you want to find some dirt and roll around in it, maybe drive over it a few times with the SUV.”

“My other one got run over by a motorcycle once,” Ty responded hopefully, leaning forward on his elbows. “And the brown ones was all too small."

Zane smiled, noticing the way Ty’s accent was stronger and his grammar was worse when he was irritated. The more he got to know him, the more obvious it was becoming that a lot of Ty Grady was a façade—or layers of several masks. Zane wasn’t sure if he would ever see the real man, and it 212 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

made him slightly sad. He thought maybe he would really like the real man.

“You could have waited,” he pointed out. “Lord knows there’re enough stores in this town.” He sat back, stretching his legs out to the side of the table almost into the aisle. “Maybe I’ll go get one yet.”

“Yeah, that’ll be fun, being twins,” Ty muttered under his breath.

Finally, he growled and shrugged out of the squeaky new leather and tossed it across the table at Zane. “Fucking take it,” he muttered.

Catching the jacket just before it hit him in the face, Zane grinned and shook it out, looking over it gleefully. Without even blinking away from the jacket, he murmured, “Henninger’s here,” before saying louder, “Thanks, Grady, it’s not even my birthday.”

“You can go fuck yourself,” Ty muttered, loud enough for Henninger to hear as he approached the table.

“Well, it’s … good to see you’re still the same sweet pair,” Henninger murmured as he nodded at them and glanced around idly before sliding into the booth beside Zane.

“What can I say, it’s still the honeymoon phase,” Zane answered dryly, picking up his iced tea.

“My condolences,” Henninger responded flatly, nodding at Zane.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked as Ty growled wordlessly.

“You tell us,” Zane retorted, still sitting back, relaxed. “I imagine the shit’s still hitting the fan at the office.”

“And it’s dripping off the walls,” Henninger nodded in answer. “Is there a … particular reason, by any chance, that you two haven’t come back in yet?” he asked carefully. “Are you okay?” he asked Ty with a small frown.

Zane glanced at Ty, who was doing a good job of looking bored and disinterested. That or his head was still pounding and he really wasn’t paying attention. It was hard for Zane to tell. “He’s got a little headache. He’s fine,”

he answered for the other man. “And we’re rather fond of our skins,” he continued. “The office seems to be a hotbed of opportunity for assassinations right now,” Zane said. “Can you get the information we need?”

“You think someone in the Bureau is trying to kill you,” Henninger murmured almost under his breath, repeating his words from the day before but sounding slightly more convinced. The noise of the busy restaurant covered their conversation perfectly. “How did he find out why you were here?” he asked, apparently wanting them to know that he agreed with their Cut & Run | 213

assumptions. “And why risk confirming what, up to now, has just been a suspicion?”

Zane just raised his brow, and they sat back quietly as a server appeared to take Henninger’s drink order and drop off Ty and Zane’s appetizer. Snapping out of his supposed daze, Ty reached forward and snagged a chicken finger, crunching on it as he watched Henninger thoughtfully. The kid seemed to be having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that the serial really was an FBI man.

“It ain’t just us he’s trying to off,” Ty said to the younger man.

“There was an attempt on you as well, in case you forgot,” he reminded softly. “This boy knows what we’re doing before we do it. He knows how to get in and get out without getting on tape. He’s a step ahead of us all the way.”

“Look, we’re not going back in there, and we’re not reporting in again until we get some hard evidence to take to someone high up,” Zane said. “You can get us the information we need from inside—and you’ve proven you can keep your mouth shut.” He reached out and took up a loaded potato skin. “We’ll take care of the rest,” he murmured, meeting Ty’s eyes.

Ty merely sat and stared, and Henninger looked between them with a frown. “I don’t like this,” he finally muttered. He shifted uncomfortably and looked away. He had several healing cuts on his face and a laceration that had been stitched up on his neck.

Ty watched him with a small frown. It had taken a lot of guts for the kid to come out here and meet them, knowing they were AWOL. And he appeared to be legit, which Ty found almost surprising. No tail that Ty had seen. Risking his neck to try and help them just days after getting metal and plastic shrapnel to the face, the kid was earning Ty’s grudging respect.

“Okay,” Henninger finally said softly as he looked back at Zane and then at Ty.

Zane smiled crookedly. “Good. Here’s what we need.”

STANDING outside the SUV smoking, Zane waited as Ty finished talking with Henninger before they went their opposite ways. The kid had balls, that was for sure. He still seemed so damn naïve, though. Shaking his head, he leaned back against the door, tapping ashes to float to the ground.

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“That shit’ll kill you, y’know,” Ty murmured as he walked up to stand beside the SUV.

Zane gave him an amused look as he pulled the cigarette from between his lips. “This was the least destructive of my vices. Quit as many as I did and see if you don’t need one to keep the others in line.” He thought about that for a minute. “I suppose I could have kept whoring instead.”

“That’ll kill you, too,” Ty responded simply.

Taking another drag, Zane tipped his head. “Maybe I’ll think about it when I don’t need the stress relief,” he allowed. He blew the smoke up into the air away from Ty and chuckled darkly. “They were all good for that.”

“Why not troll the bars?” Ty asked curiously, unable to help himself.

“You’re a good-looking guy. Did you just get a kick out of paying for it?”

Zane smiled. “Did I catch a compliment in there?” he asked, flicking ashes to the side as he looked at his feet. He took another pull off the half-gone cigarette before answering. “Breaking the rules is addictive, too.”

Ty inclined his head slightly and peered at Zane through the dark lenses of his brown aviators. “How in the hell did you make it past the psych exams?” he asked finally in exasperation.

Breathing in deeply and blowing the smoke out and away, Zane looked resigned. “You’re not the only one good at lying through your teeth.”

Ty was silent for a long moment before he leaned closer and lowered his sunglasses enough to meet Zane’s eyes. “If you turn out to be the killer I’m going to be all kinds of pissed off, got it?” he warned.

Zane threw back his head and laughed. “I got plans for a lot more fucking before any mercy killing, man,” he said, taking a last drag of the cigarette before dropping it and grinding it under his boot.

Ty snorted in response and looked up and down the sidewalk slowly before reaching for the door handle and opening the passenger side door.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he muttered. “I got a headache.”

Keys jingling in hand, Zane climbed into the SUV along with Ty.

“Henninger said he’d put in the paperwork for the car so they won’t tag us for it,” Ty said as they both got settled. “He also said I never actually called him about those damn personnel files. I could have sworn I did.”

“I think we got distracted by food, then the NYPD called and off we went,” Zane answered regretfully. “Did he say he’d get on it?”

“He said he’d need the original files. They’re in the old room,” Ty Cut & Run | 215

answered.

“Holiday Inn?” Zane asked.

Ty nodded. “I want my other jacket,” he grumbled in answer.

Zane looked down at his dandy new black jacket and smirked. “Off we go, then.” He went quiet for a long minute as the radio played. “Whiner.”

“Shut up,” Ty muttered, trying not to watch the traffic passing so it wouldn’t make him sick. He took his sunglasses off and rubbed his eyes. “I should not have eaten,” he murmured after a moment, and he leaned his head against his hand and covered his eyes with his fingers.

Glancing over at the other man, worry showed on Zane’s face. “We can go back to the Tribeca for a while,” he offered. “I don’t particularly want to see you puking your guts up.”

It spoke to just how lousy he was feeling that Ty didn’t argue. He just swallowed heavily and nodded in agreement. Zane turned at the next right and twenty minutes later they pulled up at the doors. “Go ahead. I’ll go park the truck,” Zane said.

“No,” Ty answered with a shake of his head as he looked up at the hotel. “We need to stick to each other as much as we can.”

Without saying another word, Zane put the SUV back in motion and drove down into the parking garage. When he stopped the truck, one glance at the other man worried him more. “Ty, you don’t look so good.”

“I don’t feel so good, neither,” Ty muttered. A violent shiver ran through him, and he looked over at Zane with a frown. He had lost his color, and he was feeling slightly light-headed.

Zane’s eyes widened. “Is this left over from before? Are you that sensitive to drugs?”

“I think it’s the concussion thing,” Ty murmured as he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door with a slight lurch. “I been fighting it all morning,” he muttered. “And no more drugs!” he called as he got out of the car and pushed the door shut.

Sliding his way out of the seat belt and getting out of the truck, Zane met Ty at the back bumper, reaching forward to catch the other man when he staggered. “Christ,” Zane hissed below his breath. He slid an arm under Ty’s and helped him walk.

“Told you I should’ve stayed in the fucking hospital,” Ty grumbled as he held to Zane tightly. “Jesus. At least I didn’t do this in front of the kid,” he 216 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

muttered as he tried and failed to walk a straight line. “Maybe I need to go back,” he said doubtfully.

“It wasn’t safe at the hospital,” Zane answered. He tightened his arm around Ty when they stopped at the elevator and he reached out to hit the button. “Anyone can walk into those rooms. You’re better off here. But this time you’re taking some Tylenol to help with the swelling and fever,” he chastised. Zane could feel the heat radiating off his partner.

“Fever,” Ty huffed dubiously, closing his eyes and staving off another wave of nausea. “I’ve never had a concussion before,” he added in a distant voice.

“Never?” Zane said in disbelief as he helped Ty into the elevator.

“You were Recon in the Marines and undercover for the FBI, and you’ve never had a concussion? How the hell did you manage that?”

“I ducked,” Ty answered in a childishly honest voice.

“You ducked,” Zane muttered. “Smartass.” He shifted Ty closer against him as he made sure he had the other man on his feet when the door opened. “Think you can make it under your own power to the main elevator?”

he asked, looking out into the corridor.

“Uh huh,” Ty answered with a nod that made him wince. He swallowed heavily and straightened up, closing his eyes and trying to use sheer willpower to force his head to stop spinning. “Maybe,” he amended.

Zane looked over him doubtfully, but led the way out of the elevator, hovering right next to Ty as they strolled slowly down the hall to the main bank of elevators. Luckily, being the middle of the afternoon, people were sparse. He hit the up button.

Ty didn’t know what was worse, keeping his eyes open and seeing the room spin or closing them and feeling it. He placed his palm against the wall and leaned heavily against it, going whiter as he tried to plow through it.

“Which hotel was this?” he asked Zane as he finally closed his eyes again.

Zane’s eyes flashed to Ty, seeing him pale. “The Tribeca Grand,” he murmured, moving closer to slide his arm around Ty’s lower back.

“So I can crash?” Ty ventured hopefully, leaning into Zane again as the elevator doors opened.

“Yeah, you can,” Zane agreed, not letting go of him as they stepped into the elevator. Five minutes later they were in the room, and Zane helped Ty to the bed. “Here we are again,” he said with a sigh. “Can you sit up long Cut & Run | 217

enough for me to get the Tylenol?”

“Yeah,” Ty answered with a deep blush of embarrassment.

Zane crouched in front of him and cupped his cheek. “Hey. It’s not you, okay? It’s the crack on the head. Nothing to be ashamed of, feeling like shit. Believe me, I’ve been there.”

Ty merely nodded, barely meeting Zane’s eyes.

Zane lifted Ty’s chin. “Stubborn jarhead,” he muttered, a smidgen of fondness in his voice. Then he stood up and walked to the bathroom.

Ty lowered his head and licked his lips slowly, sighing in relief as the dizziness began to ebb. He hated not having control over his body. He hated being hurt at all, but head injuries had always been one of his greater fears.