Fish & Chips (22 page)

So now he walked out of the casino, forcing himself to make his way casually back to their cabin as he grew more and more worried.

The warmth of the expensive Scotch lapped through him, making everything around him false and bright. Zane had nursed the first glass as long as he could, but there had been a second, and a third, and then it 138 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

had been too late. He could still taste it now, the burn of the ultra-premium liquor on his tongue and at the back of his throat.

Seeing Ty had gotten Zane"s attention, and he"d consciously stopped emptying his glass. But it had been long enough since his last fall from grace that his tolerance had suffered. He knew how to operate under the influence in the line of duty; it just couldn"t be avoided in the alcohol-soaked underworld. He"d already slipped into that cold and detached state of mind before Ty had arrived, and Zane hadn"t even recognized it. It was like sliding on an old, comfortable disguise, and remembering Ty"s earlier words about his drinking, Zane was worried now.

Even through the worry, Zane felt the relief and succor of the alcohol, the allure that welcomed him, called to him. In the past, alcohol had given him an edge, and it still burned in him, allowed him to slough off the nerves and distractions and brought the most important things into focus. Zane knew himself when he was deep into the drink while undercover. He"d spent too many years living it not to appreciate it. He"d also learned how destructive it could be. How destructive
he
could be under the influence.

The concern for Ty ate at him as he left the promenade, rode up the elevator, and entered the hallway leading to their stateroom. Zane had thought at the time he was handling the situation the right way; now he wasn"t so sure.

When Zane entered their cabin, he found the place entirely upended. His heart skipped a few beats, and instinctively he dug under his shirt at the small of his back and drew his gun. He shut the door without a sound and silently made his way into the dimly lit room.

Suitcases lay turned upside down and emptied, their possessions scattered all over the floor. The mattress was hanging off the bed and still cocked sideways, the bedcovers a shambles. The pillows of the couches littered the floor, and the doors to the balcony stood open.

Either Ty had thrown a temper tantrum, or they had a problem they hadn"t expected. Zane was inclined to choose option A, remembering the look on Ty"s face when Zane had turned his back on him.

Zane winced.

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He moved on through the bedroom to check the balcony and then walked to the bathroom, where the door was ajar and one of the sinks was running.

Ty was bent over the sink, shirtless, letting the water run into the palm of his hand and then repeatedly splashing his face. Relieved, Zane looked him over: Ty"s face was pale and drawn, and the shirt he"d been wearing when he"d come to see Zane at the poker table was on the marble counter beside him, a single drop of blood on the collar clearly visible.

Ty abruptly jumped back, his hand going to the knife on the countertop. He jerked to a stop, his back against the marble tile of the bathroom wall, weapon in hand, breathing hard as he stared at Zane.

Zane let out the breath he"d been holding and looked Ty over while slowly lowering his gun. He felt his focus snap into place: on Ty now, rather than Bianchi and Armen like before. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Ty lowered his head slightly, glaring at Zane as his hazel eyes flashed with anger. “Had a party,” he answered in a deceptively calm voice as he straightened up and stepped back over to the sink to turn off the water. “Sorry you missed it,” he added as he set down the knife, picked up a washrag, and dabbed at his lip gingerly.

“I should have been here,” Zane said as he reached out to lightly touch Ty"s chin and turn his head so he could look at the split lip.

Ty flinched away from him and smacked his hand away, snarling wordlessly at him. The calm façade was gone just as quickly as it had come. He shoved Zane away from him and followed to shove him again, right out of the bathroom. He balled his fist as if preparing to take a swing, but then he gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers, snorting loudly. It always took Ty a lot of effort to rein in his temper once he"d lost it, and he visibly struggled with it now.

Now Zane knew what had happened was serious. He tried to study Ty more closely to see if he was hiding an injury. He appeared to be unharmed aside from the bloody lip. “What happened?” Zane asked him again.

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“Fucking Italians!” Ty blurted with a wave of his hands, launching into another threatening temper tantrum, and Zane actually leaned back in surprise. Ty"s next words were shouted. “They tried to toss me over the railing! I don"t speak Italian, Garrett!”

“The railing,” Zane repeated blankly. Then it clicked. “
The
railing? As in into the ocean railing? What did they want?” Scenarios began playing out in Zane"s head, every one of them ending badly…

because he wasn"t there. Zane felt ill, all that lovely Scotch suddenly threatening to make an appearance.

Ty just seemed to grow angrier in the face of Zane"s belated concern. He stood fairly trembling as he balled his fists at his sides, trying to calm himself. That was an exercise in futility, in Zane"s learned opinion, but no way was he voicing that now.

“They didn"t say anything to give you an idea of who they were?”

Zane asked carefully.

“I think they were Guardia di Finanza,” Ty said through clenched teeth, the Italian words rolling off his tongue as if he did speak the language. “Even Italian cops wear cheap suits. Del was supposed to meet with them, and when I missed it, they came looking for me.” He waved his rag at the trashed stateroom. “They took the fucking wire taps I found. I"m guessing they flipped the place, then came after me when they didn"t find them here.”

“The wire taps were with you,” Zane concluded. He inhaled deeply and nodded, believing Ty must have had a hell of a scare for him to be this livid. Staying in character would have made him fairly helpless, and Zane felt a stronger pang of worry that he tried to quash.

“That was what you came to tell me about,” he said, though he wasn"t sure what he"d have been able to do about it.

“Not that it matters now,” Ty snarled.

“It"s done, Grady. Let it go. We"ll find the wire taps,” Zane said as he walked over to the desk, put down the gun, and started to pick through the contents scattered across the top of it. He was having enough trouble focusing on anything besides his partner to worry about the past now. Ty was silent, and when Zane glanced over at him, he found Ty still standing in the doorway to the bathroom, watching him Fish & Chips | 141

with a mixture of anger and what might have been pain. It was similar to the look he"d given Zane at the poker table.

For a moment, Zane was glad he"d enjoyed so much whiskey. If it weren"t for the calm and cool it gave him, he"d either be really upset over Ty"s near-death experience, so quickly on the heels of the climbing wall “accident,” or he"d be giving Ty a smack upside the head right now, damn the repercussions. Instead, he waited for Ty to continue.

“Do you have any idea what we lost tonight?” Ty asked him in barely controlled anger.

Zane swept the mess of papers into the desk drawer before leaning both hands on the desk and looking at Ty, feeling exasperated.

“No. But whatever it was they hung you over a railing for, Ty, it wasn"t worth your life,” he said, trying to reason with him though he was growing more upset by his partner"s lack of control. It was wreaking havoc with his own, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He wasn"t feeling the buzz much anymore, and it was starting to affect him. “So forgive me if I"m a little less concerned about some information than about you standing here.”

Ty watched him silently for a moment. “You don"t really seem all too concerned about that,” he accused finally.

“What do you want me to do? Fall on my knees at your feet and thank God you"re still breathing? You"d laugh,” Zane retorted with a wave of his hand.

The heated emotion in Ty"s eyes finally drained away as Zane watched him. “Yeah, I guess I would,” he said finally. He turned and tossed his rag into the bathroom in disgust, then moved into the cabin and bent to begin gathering the scattered contents of their bags without another word.

Zane resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ty was in a snit and would have to sleep it off, and Zane didn"t feel charitable enough to play peacekeeper while coming off a buzz. Maybe he gave in too much as it was. Shaking his head, he took off his jacket and started picking up clothes as well.

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They"d thrown most everything in the cases and drawers when Zane decided he didn"t want to stay there while Ty was silent and moody. First he considered going back to the casino; odds were good Bianchi and his Scotch whiskey would still be at the table. It was tempting. Very tempting. But after a long minute"s thought, Zane instead grabbed his swim suit and kicked off his shoes. A swim would be just the thing to work off the annoyance crowding his head.

Ty was kneeling beside the bed, going through a pile of jewelry that had been upended. He had picked up one of Corbin"s cuff links and was looking at it with a deep frown, turning it over and over like he"d never seen one before. When Zane moved, Ty looked up at him.

“You"re going for a swim?” he asked incredulously.

“Would you rather we walk the halls looking for the men who attacked you? That would certainly be restful,” Zane answered shortly.

Ty stood slowly, looking at him as if he was just seeing him for the first time. “Are you always like this when you"re drunk?” he asked with disdain.

Zane frowned. Now Ty sounded like the asshole he"d first met, distrustful and superior, and he was making a judgment call while overemotional. Typical. “Like „this"?” he asked as he unbuttoned his dress shirt.

“Not giving a shit,” Ty provided sadly.

Zane stood and took a few steps toward Ty as real anger sparked his temper. “You think I don"t give a shit about you?” he asked with precision. “Just what kind of response are you expecting from me here?”

“I don"t know, Zane,” Ty answered. His voice was flat and tired.

“I expect you to be my partner. I expect to be able to trust you. I expect you to stay at least moderately sober, and I expect you to listen when I tell you it"s important,” he rattled off, his voice getting sharper.

“If it had been life or death, you"d have gotten your point across,”

Zane said, the anger flaring in the face of Ty"s cold composure, and Zane just let it loose. “I am doing my job, and I am handling the drink just fine.”

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“Oh yeah?” Ty asked, clearly unimpressed. “All right, then,” he said as he looked down at the cuff link in his hand. He held it up. “Tell me about Bianchi"s cuff links.”

Zane narrowed his eyes, setting his hands on his hips. “What is this, some kind of test?”

“You"re a detail guy, right?” Ty asked him in a casual tone. He still held Corbin"s cuff link between his thumb and forefinger. “You were doing your job. Playing poker. Examining your opponents.

Looking for tells, details that could give you clues to their personalities,” he said. “What did Bianchi"s cuff links look like?”

Zane opened his mouth to answer and found himself grasping. He could see Bianchi"s face. His black tuxedo jacket, the white sleeve fastened by…. He frowned.

Ty watched him expressionlessly, finally lowering his hand as he pressed his lips together and nodded. “That"s what I thought,” he muttered, and he tossed the cuff link to Zane.

Zane caught it awkwardly, still preoccupied. He should have known that detail; he was sure he"d seen those cuff links. He looked at the one in his hand, turning it over, feeling a resurgence of annoyance.

“So tell me why cuff links are important to notice at a poker game.”

“Other than the fact that he rubs his finger over them when he"s nervous?” Ty asked quietly. He pointed at the one in Zane"s hand. “It"s a bug. And from what I learned tonight, I"d bet Bianchi"s are too.

Armen wasn"t wearing any.”

Zane glanced down at the jewelry, suspicious, and skimmed his memory for seeing Bianchi do that. Ty couldn"t have been there for more than three minutes, and he"d noticed that? Concern Zane didn"t want to feel prickled down his spine, and he hated it. “So it"s a bug.

That"s no good to us if we"re not the ones listening,” he said, tossing the cuff link onto the bed.

Ty shook his head and turned away.

“You"re not seriously going to tell me that I"m negligent because I don"t remember what his cuff links looked like,” Zane said coldly.

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“We"ll talk about this when you"re sober,” Ty told him with finality as he knelt back down to continue going through the pile of trinkets on the floor.

“If I"ve committed such a terrible mistake that you"re this upset about it, I should probably know,” Zane said, even though he could feel his control over his emotions slipping.

Ty stopped and remained still as he knelt, his head down. When he looked up, his entire body was tense. “I needed your help, Zane,” he said softly. He looked over at Zane and stood. “Your partner needed you. I had the key to the case in my fucking pocket,” he said in frustration, holding out his hand. “You think I don"t know how important what you were doing was? You think I would have interrupted you if it hadn"t been something huge?”