Cut & Run (49 page)

“Regrets? Maybe. Sometimes I think I deserve all the shit I went through. Did it to myself,” Zane said. He met Ty’s eyes. “I would think you wouldn’t agree. You don’t seem the type to self-flagellate.”

“Let’s pretend I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ty responded with a ghost of a smile. His regrets were one thing he did not plan on going over with Zane any time soon. Or ever.

Zane nodded slowly. “All right,” he murmured. It was obviously a topic to avoid. “So you’re saying you think I don’t have regrets?”

“No. Just commenting on the fact that you’d rather have time to linger over them at the end,” Ty corrected. “This is a morbid conversation. What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked in a huff as he rubbed his hands through his hair.

“Me?” Zane asked in disbelief. “I didn’t say I wanted to linger over anything. Just that if I have to die, I want to enjoy it.” He shrugged slightly.

“You don’t have enough focus to ponder much of anything hopped on heroin.

That’s the allure.” His hand twitched again.

Ty sighed and looked away again with a shake of his head. “How long ago was it?” he asked tiredly.

“How long ago was what?”

“The heroin?” Ty asked curtly as he glanced back over his shoulder.

“Four and a half, maybe five weeks, I guess,” Zane answered.

“So I’m to assume it wasn’t a constant thing?” Ty asked tightly.

“Since you’re not screaming in pain from the withdrawal, I mean?”

Zane stared at him for a long moment. “No, it wasn’t constant. It was all I had to cut the pain when I got shot.” His hand went to his abdomen, where Ty knew there was a fresh, barely healing scar. “I know what I can 298 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

handle.”

Ty examined him for a long time, and then turned his head to face the wall again. He sighed softly. “Okay,” he finally acknowledged quietly. It just wasn’t worth the fight it could turn into to continue the conversation, and Ty was getting tired of talking about it.

“Did you ever use?” Zane asked, curious.

“Never,” Ty answered immediately.

“But you drink,” Zane murmured, looking down at his hands, wondering if there was any way he could explain so Ty could have some idea of what it was like to be addicted. “Ever drink too much and still want more?”

“Every time I drink too much I swear it off for a week,” Ty muttered.

“But I pick the bottle up the next weekend. The next day. Maybe even that night,” Zane said softly. “Just until I get my fill. Feels good, not hurting anybody. Once I’ve had enough, I’ll stop. I won’t drink too much this time.”

Ty turned his head slightly, but didn’t quite look back at Zane. “I understand what an addiction is,” he said in a low, hard voice. “Not everyone is that weak.”

Zane’s body went totally still. “Everyone
is
that weak. Even guys who fuck a different woman every night just to forget somebody else.”

Ty’s shoulders tensed slightly as he looked back at the wall.

“Touché,” he said abruptly.

Zane raised a brow, staring at the other man. “Touché? That’s it? Five months ago you’d have clocked me for that.”

“What do you want from me, Garrett?” Ty asked in frustration. He turned his head slightly but still didn’t turn to meet Zane’s eyes.

Sitting up, Zane reached for him. “Look at me, Ty,” he said firmly.

Ty glanced over his shoulder, his jaw clenching angrily.

“What were you going to say first? Before your newly installed conscience caught your brain and had you say something else?” Zane asked, fingers tightening.

Ty looked down at Zane’s fingers as they dug into his arm, then back up to look sideways at Zane. “Some creative version of ‘fuck you’, I’m sure,”

he answered tightly.

“Then why didn’t you say it? Christ knows you’ve called me about Cut & Run | 299

every name in the book. Why not now?” Zane prodded. If Ty didn’t let some of that anger out somehow he was going to implode. Zane had seen it happen.

Zane had
had
it happen.

“Because,” Ty answered stubbornly.

“Because?” Zane parroted, refusing to back off. “Think I can’t take it?”

“Are you trying to start a fight?” Ty asked as he shook his arm away from Zane’s grasp.

“Apparently. And you’re determined to sit there all buttoned up and not hurt my feelings,” Zane said, catching Ty’s arm again, this time the forearm. “Let it go. There’s no one here to act for.”

“How many harsh words will it take to send you into a bottle?” Ty asked as he yanked his forearm away and smacked at Zane’s hand. “Not too damn many, I’m guessing.”

“How many times am I gonna have to rip down these walls you keep putting up before you fucking pop and go ballistic at precisely the wrong time?” Zane snapped, fingers grasping and tightening despite the smack.

“How long can you keep it all inside? ’Cause believe me, you’ve got no chance of doing it forever.”

Ty reached for Zane’s hand suddenly, squeezing his wrist to free his other hand. As soon as Zane’s fingers let go, Ty reached out and backhanded him.

If Zane had been a smaller man, he might have fallen sideways under the blow. As it was, his chin snapped to the side from the strength of it, and when he looked back at Ty, he had to lick a trickle of blood off his split lip.

When he spoke, his voice was strong and even with the surety of hard-won personal experience. “If you can’t learn to let go of the anger and frustration somehow, it will eat you up inside,” he advised. “And I don’t mean hiding in the bottom of a bottle or between some stranger’s thighs.”

Ty closed his eyes and looked away, visibly trying to calm himself.

“I’m sorry,” he finally murmured. He turned slightly and reached back to Zane, sliding his hand against the side of his face as he wiped the blood away from Zane’s lip with his thumb regretfully.

Zane pressed his cheek into Ty’s hand, looking over him with softer eyes, and his mouth quirked. “Well, I deserved it,” he said. “I don’t want you to go through what I did.”

300 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

Ty wasn’t quite sure what to say in response, and it showed clearly on his face. Instead of saying anything, he turned his head and let his hand slide away from Zane’s face. He picked up Zane’s hand and turned it over with a sad shake of his head. “You’re quite susceptible to that move,” he chastised softly as his thumb slid gently over the pressure point he’d utilized.

Grimacing, Zane rolled his wrist. “Yeah. I’ve worn the sheaths so long that I’m not used to having my wrists vulnerable. It’s hard to change a habit like that.”

Ty hummed thoughtfully and set his hands back into his own lap.

“Where’d the knives come from?” he asked abruptly.

“Jack Tanner,” Zane answered.

Ty raised an eyebrow and tilted his head so he could see Zane better.

“You worked with Jack at the Academy?” he asked in obvious surprise. Jack Tanner was an ex-SEAL, employed by the Bureau to teach agents going through the Academy the basics of not getting killed in hand-to-hand combat.

By the time Ty had gone through, Tanner was old enough and grouchy enough that he didn’t teach classes anymore; he merely picked protégés to run the lessons and supervised them.

Zane smiled slightly and nodded. “I needed the help,” he said.

“Remember me telling you about having to repeat? Yeah. Jack’s the reason I didn’t wash out the second time through.”

“I didn’t know he did one-on-one lessons,” Ty remarked with a small smirk.

“Only for special cases,” Zane said. “That, and Becky was a really good cook.”

Ty nodded and looked away uncomfortably. “Jack was always a sucker for a good ribeye,” he muttered.

Zane tipped his head. “Another story there?” he asked.

“There’s always another story somewhere,” Ty answered vaguely.

“Like why you want it to end quick,” Zane said, deciding he’d pushed enough. He already knew more about Ty’s past than Ty knew about his. He supposed he was lucky in that respect. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. “Going numb and then going to sleep,” he agreed finally. “I guess that appeals to a lot of people in our line of work. We’re more likely to be beaten up, shot, knifed, blown up, hit by a car, tortured….”

Ty merely nodded distantly, his head slightly turned as he stared out Cut & Run | 301

the window.

“Why’d you take this job?” Zane asked curiously. “After they ran you out of Recon? Why not tell the government to take a flying leap and buy a coal mine?”

Ty scratched his chin and cocked his head. “’Cause I was afraid of the coal mines,” he answered curtly.

“I knew you were a smart man,” Zane said.

“Doesn’t take a smart man to be afraid of the coal mines,” Ty responded seriously.

“What does it take? For you to be afraid?”

Ty turned his head quickly and frowned at Zane. “You don’t think I’m afraid?” he asked.

“If you aren’t, then you’re way beyond fixing,” Zane claimed. “I want to know what
makes
you afraid. I’ve seen it, a few times, in your eyes. On your face. But I couldn’t figure out why. Not really.”

Ty shrugged and looked away before Zane could see anything else in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he answered defensively. “Normal things, I guess.”

“Ty,” Zane said quietly, seeing the evasion for what it was.

“What?” Ty huffed.

Zane sighed and shook his head, but he had to laugh just a tiny bit. “I don’t think I have ever met someone as stubborn as you.”

“Shut up,” Ty said uncomfortably.

“It’s not an insult. Hell.” Zane sighed and leaned back against the headboard. He watched Ty for a long minute. The man looked antsy and unable to settle. On edge. “Ty, chill.”

“You woke me up,” Ty said accusingly. “Why do you want to know?

What does it matter what I’m afraid of?” he asked, obviously unable to let the conversation go.

Zane blinked in surprise. “It matters to me,” he said quietly. “I want to know. So I...,” His voice trailed off and he swallowed. “So I can protect you.”

Ty sniffed. “Protect me from being afraid?”

“Protect you
when
you’re afraid,” Zane corrected.

302 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

Ty muttered quietly to himself and shook his head. “Okay,” he finally ground out. “You want to know what I’m afraid of?” he asked as he turned his head slightly and looked back at Zane. “I’m afraid of small spaces,” he said as he raised his hand and began counting off with his fingers. “I’m afraid of small,
dark
spaces. I’m afraid of small, dark spaces with bugs and/or rodents in them. And I’m afraid of falling when my ass isn’t attached to a parachute.

Satisfied?” he asked sarcastically.

Zane refused to be baited. “Thanks,” he said simply, just watching Ty, wondering what was making him so cranky. He’d tried picking a fight; he’d tried reasoning with him. But Ty was still tense, unwilling or unable to just let the frustration go and shout at him. “Do I still make you that uncomfortable?” he asked, sounding forlorn. “After all we’ve done?”

Ty closed his eyes and raised his chin slightly, sighing quietly. “A little,” he admitted. “I’m not used to answering questions, okay?” he explained defensively. “I just ... it’s just weird for me.”

Zane nodded from where he leaned against the headboard, and a bit of his own tension seeped away. “Come here,” he requested, reaching out an arm.

Ty glanced over at him to see if he was making light. When he didn’t see any signs of joking he narrowed his eyes slightly. “Fuck off. Priss,” he offered with a small smile.

Zane’s eyes sparkled and he laid his hand over his propped-up knee.

“Who are you callin’ Priss, Mr. Suited Up and Shiny?” he taunted.

“If this is going to resort to name-calling, I’ve already got you beat, Spanky,” Ty warned with a smirk.

“How do you figure that, Jarhead?” Zane replied.

“’Cause I rock,” Ty explained in an even voice. “And you don’t,” he continued as he pointed at Zane, pinky finger held out to the side daintily as if he were drinking tea.

Smirking, Zane sat up, grabbed Ty and dragged him down onto the bed and under his bigger body. “I’d poke you, but you’d beat the shit out of me.”

Ty flailed briefly before he was pinned, and he blinked up at Zane suspiciously as he flexed his fingers under Zane’s grip. “Power trip,” he accused softly.

Zane waggled his eyebrows. “I gave you a chance to come Cut & Run | 303

peacefully.”

“You’re easily distracted, aren’t you?” Ty deadpanned.

“Not really,” Zane said smoothly, dragging one hand down Ty’s chest. “I’m still focused on you.”

Ty shivered as Zane’s fingers raised goose bumps all over his body.

“And that is the crux of our problem,” he reminded softly.

“Problem?” Zane echoed, his hand continuing its descent.

“All kinds of problems,” Ty affirmed. He reached up with the hand Zane had left free and smacked the bigger man gently on the side of the head.

“Focus,” he chastised.

Zane screwed up his face before looking down at Ty seriously.

“You’re not a problem. Not to me.”

“Sure I am,” Ty argued. “We know the bare minimum about each other, and correct me if I’m wrong, that’s just the way we want it. We know we want to take each other to bed, but we don’t have much else to go on. To me, that spells all kinds of problems,” he pointed out gently. “I didn’t say I was complaining,” he added.

“Grady....” Zane groaned and rolled to his side, then curled one arm around his partner’s waist. “I’m not trying to pick a fight here, but what do you propose we do about it? Neither one of us is all that good at talking. In fact, I’d say we suck spectacularly at talking.”

“How about you stop asking so many questions,” Ty suggested. “And I’ll start giving a damn when you look like you need a hug,” he added cheekily.

“You already give a damn,” Zane chanced.

Ty merely smiled, his lips twitching as if he was trying not to. Zane grinned and stole a kiss.

“Shut up,” Ty muttered before jabbing Zane in the ribs gently and rolling out of his grasp.

Restraining the urge to yank Ty back into his arms, Zane instead let go and just lay there watching him. Ty sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then cocked his head and stared at the far wall thoughtfully.