Zane grinned, though his eyes remained downcast. He set one hand on the table in front of him, closing his hand around the edge.
“Well, there was this time at the Chinese laundry—”
“No,” Ty broke in urgently. He raised his hand to call the waitress over, ordering five drinks by holding up five long fingers and then twirling his index finger around the table. Nick"s eyes followed the motion, then moved to look at Ty. He looked worn out, not as apt to go spinning toward the ceiling as the Ty Grady Nick knew so well.
“There"s six of us, man,” Owen interrupted. “Who"s not drinking?”
“That would be me,” Zane said.
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“Forgive me for stating the obvious, but you don"t appear to be the designated-driver type right now,” Kelly said wryly.
Ty nudged Nick"s elbow, and when Nick glanced at him, Ty put his thumb and index finger out like he was holding a shot glass and tipped it toward his mouth. Nick nodded in understanding.
“A drink is the last thing I need right now,” Zane said as he leaned back in his chair.
Nick clucked his tongue. So Ty"s partner was an alcoholic. That was uncomfortable. He searched for something to say, watching his companions closely. Zane seemed okay with the topic, but Ty"s shoulders had tensed, and he was looking at the table devotedly. Nick knew the posture well, had seen Ty assume it many times. He was preparing to defend a friend.
“So,” Nick drew out, “Chinese laundry, huh?”
Zane rapped his knuckles on the table. “Three guys and a dog walk into a Chinese laundry—” he started, phrasing it like a joke.
“Dude,” Ty interrupted again. “I told them before we went in: that dog was eyeing me funny!”
Nick chuckled as the others started in on Ty. Nick waited until Ty turned his head to look at him, meeting his hazel eyes, then reached out and patted his shoulder consolingly. Only the two of them and the man who"d debriefed them knew why Ty didn"t favor dogs.
Zane continued with the story, telling it well and drawing chuckles from the guys and a dirty look from Ty. It was funny as hell, really, and Nick could imagine Ty and a dog both ending up in a vat of suds and fighting over who could scramble out first. Of course, the dog had won. Digger launched into another story right after, and the laughter continued. When drinks were delivered, the waitress brought a Coke, too, and she moved to scoot around the table to put it in front of Zane.
“Thank you, darlin",” Ty drawled. She winked at him and let her hand rest on Zane"s arm as she moved away. Zane lifted his head and sent a smile in that direction. Obviously, they came here a lot. Nick watched Ty for a minute longer. Ty rarely went drinking with his co-workers. Zane Garrett was obviously his friend, and a close one at that.
190 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Zane set his hand on the table and shifted it slightly. He didn"t even say anything. Ty continued talking to Digger as he moved the glass of Coke against Zane"s fingers. The corner of Zane"s mouth quirked up as he picked up the drink.
Nick was surprised to find that Ty and Zane reminded him of Ty and… him. He was also surprised by the spike of jealousy. Knowing he could watch Zane without being seen as long as Ty was occupied, Nick observed him for a while longer. He was a good-looking guy, perhaps five years older than Ty and himself, maybe more. He had his head cocked to one side, the one ear turned toward Ty, and a small smile played on his lips as Ty talked about something there was no way Zane knew anything about, since it was an old line from their Recon days.
It had to feel good to be included, being blind and lost. He glanced at Ty and wondered if Ty had gone through the “it could have been me” panic. The Ty he knew wouldn"t tolerate the darkness—or the helplessness—well at all, whereas Zane, by all appearances, seemed subdued but in fairly good spirits. At least Nick hoped this was subdued. He couldn"t imagine Ty staying with a stick-up-his-ass partner for long.
Nick was lost in thought when he realized Ty had leaned toward him and asked him something. He cleared his throat, looking at Ty with wide eyes. “What?”
“Are you okay?” Ty asked incredulously. “Because Owen"s been bitching about the Sox for a solid five minutes, and you ain"t drawn down on him yet.”
“I left my gun at your place,” Nick answered defensively. He set his empty bottle on the table and took Ty"s out of his hand. Ty didn"t even protest, just held up his hand to order another round.
“Are we for or against the Red Sox?” Zane asked curiously. He had leaned an elbow on the table and shifted forward, head still tipped toward Ty.
A round of jeers came from the others, and Nick had to close his eyes and wave Zane off. “School him.”
“O is from Boston,” Ty explained to Zane, pointing at Nick. “It"s Red Sox or die unless you can prove a deep affiliation with another Divide & Conquer | 191
club or provide a compelling reason to hate the designated hitter. Or kick his ass.”
“Preach it, baby,” Nick said happily, giving Ty a closed fist in the air.
“Owen is, however, a Yankees fan, and they both carried extra ammunition on missions for „accidents",” Ty went on, using his fingers to accentuate the sarcasm.
“I grew up watching ballgames in Arlington,” Zane said, sounding greatly amused. “Affiliation doesn"t get any deeper than being born and bred Texan.”
“Rangers, huh?” Nick said, rolling the word around as if giving them thought. “Sure, I guess they"re harmless enough.”
Owen gave them both a raspberry.
Ty groaned softly and raised his hand to stop them. “Can we avoid this tonight?”
“Grady"s become a pacifist,” Digger observed, clearly disapproving.
“He just lost his balls, is all,” Owen corrected.
“Don"t you remember holding them for me?” Ty asked him without skipping a beat.
“The Rangers are actually looking good this season,” Zane said.
He was looking up, and though his eyes were unfocused, he had the look about him of someone deliberately feeding the fire. Nick liked that in a man.
“God, Zane, please,” Ty tried. Nick reached out and slid his arm around Ty"s shoulders, squeezing his arm hard. He wouldn"t start a baseball-induced brawl in the middle of dinner. Again.
Zane smiled and laughed, and it sounded real, not put on. Nick thought Zane might not be too bad a guy, if he enjoyed getting a rise out of Ty as much as the rest of the team did. But Ty didn"t react to Zane"s ribbing the same way he reacted to theirs. He didn"t growl or bring out that rapier wit Nick knew was so deft. He merely looked sideways at Zane and huffed, then went back to his bottle of beer.
192 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Interesting.
After four more rounds of beer, some appetizers, several stories, and a lot of friendly squabbling, Digger stopped the pretty waitress to ask where the best place to leave his shoes was.
“Oh God, here we go,” Owen muttered.
“What"s going on?” Zane asked, directing the question toward Ty.
Ty just shook his head. He was leaning back on his bar stool, propped against the wall behind him. He rubbed at his eyes as if the beer was having its way with him, which was unusual in Nick"s vast experience. He must have really been working hard if he couldn"t make it past half a dozen rounds. He had obviously forgotten that Zane couldn"t see him.
“They don"t intend to go home tonight, Zane,” Nick answered for him.
“What"s your name, baby girl?” Digger asked the waitress.
She was smiling, taking the attention of a table of drunken idiots fairly well. “Caroline. Do we need another round, or are we done for the night?”
Ty made a pained sound as soon as she told them her name, and Nick began to grin.
Zane turned his head, apparently trying to follow the conversation. “Which one is Caroline?” he asked Ty.
“Blonde, smells like sandalwood,” Ty answered. Zane nodded.
Yeah. They came here a lot. Nick elbowed Ty in the ribs, and Ty folded up and grunted at him as he set his beer on the table. But he was already grinning, so Nick knew they were going to get him to do it.
After six beers, convincing Ty to sing was easy as pie. After ten, it was getting him to stop that was the problem.
Across the table, Kelly and Owen were already providing the melody by humming and drumming their fingers on the table. Caroline narrowed her eyes at them but was still smiling.
“What"s all this about?” she asked suspiciously.
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“I"m so sorry,” Ty told her, smiling even as he apologized.
“Please don"t ban us after this.”
Nick kicked back his stool and stood before Ty could stop him, and he began to sing the first few lines to “Sweet Caroline,” the song that Fenway Park in Boston had made its unofficial anthem. Nick had an okay singing voice, enough that people didn"t complain when he started.
Zane looked like he was torn between laughing and frowning.
“Ty…?”
Ty glanced sideways at him but didn"t answer. Instead he held his beer bottle up as if toasting the poor laughing waitress, and he joined Nick as soon as they reached the chorus. The sound of Ty"s pure, beautiful singing voice never failed to send shivers up and down Nick"s spine.
Caroline blushed prettily and laughed, looking around the bar with her hand over her mouth as they serenaded her, and a lot of the conversation around them died down as people watched, agape.
And then the inevitable happened. Nearly the entire bar joined in.
But nothing could drown out Ty"s voice from Nick"s ear. He put his arm around his oldest and dearest friend as they sang, trying not to think about why a melancholy feeling was settling in his chest.
ZANE pulled on the old T-shirt and sweats before feeling his way along the edge of the bed. It was Ty"s room, and he was more than a little uncertain if he should stay there or go up to the futon in the third-floor guestroom. Ty hadn"t said anything about any of the guys staying over, but they were his friends. An invitation to stay might be assumed.
And Zane certainly knew it wouldn"t go over well if they saw him sleeping in Ty"s bed. There was only so much that could be explained away as “helping” your blinded partner. Zane huffed and rubbed his hands over his face.
He slowly walked toward the bathroom door on the staircase landing, trailing his fingers along the wall. Bare feet touched cold tile, 194 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
eliciting a wince, and Zane was about to close the bathroom door when he heard Ty"s voice. He could pick it out anywhere.
“I can"t believe you made me do that,” he was saying, his voice a low, hoarse groan, the type that came with either too much alcohol or when Zane was about to get laid. “I"ll never be able to go back there again.”
“I can"t believe you don"t still sing, man. What a fucking waste.”
That was the Boston accent. Nick. When Zane had stood near him, Nick"s voice hadn"t been quite at ear level, so Nick was shorter than six five, but Zane had nothing else to work with besides the very few details Ty had shared in the course of conversation.
“Leave him the fuck alone, O. It"s his God-given talent, he can waste it if he wants to,” one of the others said. Kelly, perhaps. Zane wasn"t sure he could tell Owen and Kelly apart. The accents were both unremarkable.
“Cab"s here,” Digger announced, the words barely discernible.
He"d probably been standing by the window, but the deep drawl and heavy accent of his voice was unmistakably Cajun.
Ty"s answer was lost in the sounds of movement and the front door complaining as it was swung open. Zane frowned and stepped out of the bathroom, moving closer to the stairs. Yeah, eavesdroppers never heard anything good about themselves, but Zane figured he"d be better off knowing which room to go sleep in.
There was a lot of shuffling and movement, saying goodbye, see you later, who"s got the cab fare, shut the hell up before I duct tape your tongue to your nose. Fairly typical for the type of people Zane expected to be Ty"s friends. After it all died down and the door closed, there was a stretch of silence.
Then Ty cleared his throat. “Water? Beer?”
“Yeah, beer,” Nick answered as they both moved past the base of the stairs into the kitchen. So Nick apparently was staying.
Zane frowned, again trying to decide what to do. Listening to Ty talk to an old friend while sitting there with them was one thing.
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from Ty if he were caught, and that was enough to have Zane moving back toward the bathroom, albeit reluctantly.
“You look like hell, man,” he heard Nick say. His tone of voice now, when they were away from the others, was different somehow.
More serious and sincere, less teasing. Zane hesitated to call it intimate.
Ty didn"t respond to the observation with a smart-ass remark or try to deflect it. He didn"t respond verbally at all, not that Zane could hear. Zane stood at the bathroom door, gripping the doorjamb, wondering if Ty would admit to Nick what he"d tried to deny to Zane, that he was exhausted, scared, stressed, and uncertain.
Ty finally just laughed softly.
“Are you sleeping?” Nick asked. It was the same question Ty always asked Zane when he knew the answer already.