Divide & Conquer (21 page)

“Go on. You"re looking rough, even for you,” Alston said. “Nice suit though.”

“Shut up.”

Alston smiled. “We"ll hold down the fort. Let me know how Garrett"s doing when you hear from him, would you?”

“Yeah.” Ty turned and practically trudged toward the elevators.

Intellectually he knew why he was being sent away. It still didn"t sit well with him. He wasn"t used to being shooed away to safety when things got too hot. He told himself to look at it as some much-needed time off from work to be with his lover, but even that held a sour note.

He tried not to think about Zane"s sight and when or if it would return.

He told himself not to think of anything as he rode the elevator down.

Zen, Ty, Zen.

ZANE heard a key in the lock, and the door complained loudly as it was opened. “Honey, I"m home,” Ty called out in a less-than-enthusiastic voice.

His eyes closed against the utter darkness, Zane could see it: the battered metal-core door opening and Ty stepping inside from the stoop, short hair ruffled from the cold wind Zane could feel sweeping in behind him, dressed in a dark wool overcoat, that incredible blue suit, holster at his right side, badge clipped on his belt, displayed whenever Ty set his hand on his left hip in a gesture of mild annoyance.

From the sound of his voice, Ty was frustrated now, which meant the tie would be askew—if it was still on at all—and first thing, his jacket would be off, maybe even his shirtsleeves rolled up. Ty had long 134 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

muscled forearms sprinkled with fine dark hair, and surprisingly trim wrists. Zane had more than once closed his hand all the way around one of those wrists. And Ty"s fingers were snub-ended but nimble, for all that several were various amounts of crooked from all the breaks.

He wondered if Ty was frowning. It furrowed his forehead, two lines darting between dark eyebrows, and his usually bright hazel eyes would be somewhat shadowed, trending to brown or dark green. When his full lips pressed into a firm line, it caused dimples to appear in his perpetually tanned cheeks. Zane had caught himself several times in the office looking at Ty"s mouth. It got his pulse up when Ty chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip.

“Garrett?” Ty said in a flat voice. “You still in there?” He put his hand on Zane"s chest, leaning over the back of the couch to do it.

Zane actually startled out of his imagining with a sharp inhale.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, lifting one hand to cover Ty"s. “Are you frowning?”

“What? I am now—what the hell kind of question is that?” Ty muttered as he pulled his hand away.

Zane could hear him continuing to mutter as he moved away.

“You sound frustrated. What happened at the office?”

“Benched,” Ty groused. “Didn"t tell me shit except that I was to go home until they"re sure we"re not targets. We"ll also have a protection crew tailing us.”

Zane frowned and sat up. Ty sounded almost angry. “Hey, come here,” he requested quietly. Something heavy, probably Ty"s overcoat, flopped onto the back of the couch. He felt Ty"s weight on the couch beside him, and soon Ty"s hand ran into his hair affectionately, carefully avoiding the small crooked line of stitches along the back of his skull.

Zane relaxed and leaned into the hand, moving his own to bump against and slide up Ty"s thigh. It was reassuring, having him this close, and if Zane needed anything right now, it was peace of mind. He turned his head to press his cheek against Ty"s palm, and Ty"s lips touched his gently. Only bare seconds passed before the hip that leaned against Zane"s body began to ding and vibrate, but Ty ignored the cell Divide & Conquer | 135

phone in his pocket in favor of the kiss. It warmed Zane, something so insignificant as Ty choosing him over a cell phone call. Silly, maybe, but he was taking all the feel-good karma he could get at the moment.

Wanting to be a little closer, he slid one hand to cup lightly around the back of Ty"s neck as he gave under Ty"s lips.

Ty sat up after the phone went quiet, running his hand through Zane"s hair again as he leaned against him on the edge of the couch.

“They gave me the rest of the week off,” he announced suddenly. “I"m probably a target. They want me to lay low, not come back "til Monday.”

“The likelihood of us being targets is really damn small,” Zane murmured, rubbing Ty"s back with one hand. “Even with the bomb in the Bronco, it was the only car there overnight. Small chance anyone could know it was yours. And down at the shopping complex? We weren"t even supposed to be there, really. We got sent last minute to help out. More likely they want you out of their hair.”

“Mac doesn"t have any hair left. He pulled it all out,” Ty muttered unhappily. “I got to check this,” he added, and Zane could feel him pulling his phone out of his pocket. Zane relaxed back, keeping his hands on Ty, just for that connection. Despite the encouragement from talking to Deuce, Zane still felt pretty damn pitiful and lost.

Ty snorted at whatever he was reading on his phone, and Zane heard him snap the phone shut a moment later.

“What"s up?” Zane asked.

“It"s just my buddy Nick,” Ty said as he leaned against Zane again. “He"s a cop, on the last hour of an eighteen-hour shift, and he"s trying to stay awake by driving me fucking crazy.”

“So he"s the one who texts you all hours of the day and night?”

Zane asked as he rubbed at his temple. The raging headache he"d had in the hospital was still hanging on as a dull ache.

“Mostly, yeah. Why, does that bother you?” Ty asked with a hint of concern. He took Zane"s hand as he spoke, his fingers rubbing at the base of Zane"s thumb until he found the pressure point between the fingers and squeezed hard.

136 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

Zane groaned as the headache began to dull. If Ty knew one thing, it was how to use and abuse a pressure point. “No, it doesn"t bother me.” He scrunched up his nose on purpose. “You haven"t texted me since you got caught with your girlfriend,” he lamented, but then he ruined it with a little laugh.

“I still owe you for that,” Ty told him wryly. He let off on the pressure point just a little, and the throbbing ache in Zane"s head began to subside almost to the point of being gone. “You"re right here next to me. I don"t need to text you.”

“Still.”

“You want to hear some of the crap he sends me? Then you won"t be jealous.”

Zane smiled slightly. He suspected Ty kind of liked that he might be jealous. “Sure,” he said amiably as he slid his arm between Ty"s back and the couch to pull him closer.

Ty shifted around to reach his phone again, and Zane heard him flip it open to find some example texts to read out loud. “The one he sent me on the way home said, „
at my funeral it’ll be your job to throw
yourself on my casket and weep
." And the one he just sent me, he says,

„
false alarm, still invincible
." No idea what he was doing that he thought he might die. The one before that was „
for future reference a
lint roller appears to be the best way to get glitter out of a beard
."”

Zane chuckled. “That"s some quality conversation there. Is Nick one of the Recon guys? The one I talked to on the phone in New York?”

“The one you talked to on the phone?” Ty repeated in obvious confusion. “Oh! Yeah, the one that called and cussed me out for getting blown up. Yeah, that was Nick. He was Recon, but he was also with me pretty much from the bus to Parris Island.”

“So you two go way back,” Zane murmured, lifting his hand to rub Ty"s belly through the soft dress shirt. Zane idly wondered what color it was.

“Yeah. Tried to get him to join the Bureau with me and Sanchez, but he was being stubborn and disillusioned with The Man. Went home instead. We sort of fell out of touch for a while, when I was Divide & Conquer | 137

undercover. But ever since New York, he"s called or sent me a text almost every day.”

“He"s not around here, then,” Zane concluded. “Else you"d be barhopping with him.”

Ty laughed softly. “You have that low an opinion of me, huh?

Barhopping,” he joked in a warm voice as he leaned more against Zane.

“He"s in Boston.”

Zane grinned. “Would he have gone bar
maid
hopping with you?”

“He has in the past.”

Zane poked at Ty"s ribs gently.

Ty flinched and jabbed back at him. “Quit that,” he hissed. Zane could feel him rubbing at his ribs as if it had tickled, but he belatedly remembered Ty"s run-in with Tank and the bruising his ribcage had taken.

Zane patted Ty"s thigh in apology. “That"s great, still in touch with a friend from that far back.”

“I"m thinking you"d probably hate him,” Ty said thoughtfully, and then he laughed. “About as much as you hated me at first.”

“And that was a lot,” Zane agreed. “He"d probably hate me too.”

Ty made a dismissive noise and stood, taking a step away from the couch. “Are you hungry? I"m going to start fidgeting if I don"t find something to do soon.”

“I could eat,” Zane answered, feeling the cool rush in after the warmth of Ty"s body disappeared. “There"s not much here, though.”

“You want to go out?” Ty suggested, his voice so even that Zane couldn"t determine Ty"s preference from it. Zane had always thought Ty"s emotions were easy to read. But obviously all those cues came from his body language. “Might do you some good. You pick. I"ll take you there.”

“How about Chiapparelli"s? The food"s really good.”

“That the Italian place you"re always going to?” Ty asked.

138 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

Zane nodded. “They"ve got a pretty good selection, and you"ve seen my lunches. The people there are really nice. It"s a family business.”

“And I guess you"ll know the layout since you"re there a lot, huh?

Well, you look good enough. Let"s go eat.”

Zane got up and self-consciously patted his hair after Ty riffled it in passing. He carefully edged along the couch and around it, then took one step to the bookshelf along the wall and touched the books, trailing his fingers along the spines until he reached the shelf with the dish where he left his wallet and keys. “I need a jacket,” he said.

“How far is it? Can we walk?” Ty asked.

“Go out the front door, turn right, cross the street, go to the end of the block, turn right, and it"s on the right at the end of the block,” Zane rattled off.

“All righty, let"s go, then,” Ty said.

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“THERE are a few steps up just inside,” Zane said as they stopped outside a full plate-glass door under a blue awning hanging off a red brick building. “Four, maybe? It"s not like I"ve counted before.”

“You don"t have to tell me, baby. I can see them,” Ty reminded gently.

Ty pulled the door open and guided Zane through. They went up the steps slowly, and Ty cast a critical eye around the restaurant. He"d never been there, but Zane was always producing leftovers in brown paper bags and seemed to enjoy the food.

It was definitely an old building: exposed brick walls had been kept intact inside. The carpet was brown and red and sort of ornate floral in a vintage Italian style. There was a dining room full of patrons in front of them and another to the right. The furniture was dark, heavy wood, including a full wine case directly in front of them where an array of takeout menus, business cards, and a bowl of mints sat. The waiting area was quite small; maybe a dozen people could stand around, and it would be tight. Even the five people already there waiting made it difficult to look around.

An older woman, slight and gray-haired, dressed in the black waitstaff uniform, walked out of the dining room to the right. “Good evening, gentlemen. Two for dinner?” Then Zane turned toward her, and she added, “Oh, Mr. Garrett, lovely to see you again.” She had a thick accent.

“I wish I could say the same, Leticia,” Zane murmured with a vague wave at his eyes.

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She broke out with a sharp question in a language that Ty definitely recognized as Italian. It made him flinch like one of Pavlov"s dogs waiting to be hit with an ostrich leather hobo bag.

Zane shrugged in answer to her. She tut-tutted him and turned to Ty. “This way, please. I have a table for you now,” she said, ignoring the other customers waiting who had been there first.