Cut and Run 07 Touch & Geaux (2 page)

McCoy ignored him. “But I need an answer from you right now.”

Zane was still laughing over the absurdity of the idea as he glanced at Ty, weighing his options and wondering just what the punishment would be if he bowed out. Because there would be retribution from his partner. For sure. Of course, if he went along of his own free will, there might be a reward involved. A hot, naked, angry reward. Not that McCoy needed to know anything about that.

Ty flopped his hands. “I mean, hell, I have about as much say in it as I usually do, so why not? I’m game.”

Zane sighed. “I’ll never hear the end of it if I say no, will I?” Ty jerked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow higher in warning. He was a handsome man when he was annoyed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Good!” McCoy stood and clapped his hands together once. “Go now.”

“What?” Ty asked flatly.

“The crew is in the lobby to take you to a hotel for the photo shoot. Go. Now.”

Ty stood staring at him, head cocked, apparently immobilized by the prospect.

“How long have you known about this, and you’re just now telling us?” Zane asked. It was classic McCoy to sit on this for a week and then spring it on them at the last minute so they couldn’t wiggle out of it.

“They’re in the lobby waiting for you.” McCoy sat back down and waved his hand in dismissal, even picking up his pen and pretending to study a report.

Zane pushed out of his chair with an aggrieved sigh. It took two tugs to get Ty moving. As he pushed Ty out the door, Zane turned back to McCoy. “One of these days, Mac, one of these stunts is going to backfire on you in spectacular fashion.”

“But not today,” McCoy said, smug and smiling.

Zane growled and turned, only to bump into Ty, who had stopped right where Zane had left him. “Grady!”

“I changed my mind.”

“Too late.” Zane gave Ty a gentle shove toward the elevator.

Ty gave the emergency stairs a glance. He had always been an odd mix of cocksure and shy; part showman, part recluse. He loved a crowd, playing class clown or alpha dog or whatever the situation called for like a chameleon. Zane had seen videos of him from when he had been in service, dancing with other Marines, making fools of themselves to pass the time or entertain wounded companions. He was also willing to play up the sexy in person, using his good looks and charisma for any purpose he deemed fit. But as soon as someone tried to record it for posterity, Ty would freeze like he was hiding from a T. rex. He would much rather be shot at than shot with a camera.

Zane ignored the glances from their curious coworkers, focusing instead on getting Ty into the elevator. Once the doors shut, he groaned and covered his face with both hands.

“A calendar.”

“This is not my fault,” Ty muttered as the elevator whisked them toward the lobby.

“Of course it’s your fault, Ty. Look at you.” Zane dropped his hands with a huff. “And what was he talking about with the ‘talk to you individually’ thing?”

Ty shrugged his broad shoulders, shaking his head and then peering at his hands like he was examining his fingernails. He definitely knew something.

“Ty,” Zane rumbled.

Ty glanced at Zane. “I don’t know,” he insisted. His eyes were wide and sincere, but he couldn’t fool Zane. Not after a year of living together.

Zane took a step, intending to pin his partner to the wall to get some answers, but then the elevator pinged to signal their arrival at the first floor, forcing him to halt.

“We will be discussing this later,” Zane said through gritted teeth.

Ty’s lips twitched and his eyes danced, but he didn’t argue.

“You know, I might not have minded this with a little forewarning,” Zane muttered. “How I became anyone’s idea of a goddamn pinup, I have no idea.”

Ty just looked back at him, blinking innocuously. As the doors began to grind open, he smiled. “You’re my idea of a pinup,” he whispered.

Zane snorted, amused by how easily Ty could still charm him. He brushed his fingertips over Ty’s lips before turning to lead the way out into the lobby.

They didn’t even get around the corner before three women in various styles of business attire stood and hurried over to them. “Agents Garrett and Grady, thank you so much for agreeing to support our little project!”

Ty gave them a charming smile, even though his discomfort was still obvious to Zane. “We can’t really take the credit,” he said, voice smooth as honey.

A slim blonde in her mid-thirties, with every hair on her head perfectly in place, shook both their hands, lingering over Ty. “If you’ll come with us, we have a van waiting.”

“A van?” Zane asked.

“To take us to the hotel.”

Zane slid his hands into his trouser pockets and gave an uncomfortable fake smile of his own. He and Ty fell into step as they trailed after the women.

“Tell me, Special Agent Garrett,” asked a rather matronly looking woman with a smile on her round cheeks. “Did you happen to ride your motorcycle to work today?”

Zane steps stuttered as they reached the lobby doors. Ty stifled a snicker by pretending to cough.

“Ah, no, ma’am, I’m afraid not,” Zane lied through his teeth. It’d just gotten warm enough to start riding the Valkyrie again, so of course he had.

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

The other woman, dressed in a dark blue pantsuit, just laughed. “Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!”

Zane nodded, unconvinced.

“I’d rather chew on a lightbulb,” Ty said under his breath.

“That motorcycle was my favorite idea,” the short woman said from the backseat of the van as soon as they’d all piled in.

“Oh Violet, forget the bike. We want the men, after all,” the lady in blue said. “I’m Cynthia, by the way.” She reached over the seat and shook Zane’s hand, then Ty’s.

“I’m Susan,” the blonde added, her voice low and pleasant. “I’m sorry, we should have introduced ourselves before. We’re just so excited you agreed to do this!”

“Susan’s the one who saw you both on the news,” Cynthia said.

Zane smirked. “Is that so?”

“I remember watching that newscast and getting shivers,” she confided, smiling at Zane and then turning her long lashes on Ty again. “The presence you both had in front of the camera? I just knew I had to have you.”

Zane could see Ty tensing, growing more uncomfortable with the situation. Flirting was like Ty’s natural mode of communication, but recently he had grown less likely to engage in it.

“That newscast wasn’t representative of us at work,” Ty finally said.

“Oh, but it was! You were at work!” Violet leaned over the backseat. “And it’s exactly what everyone thinks. That’s what we want on the calendar. Something dashing.”

“Daring,” Susan drawled.

“Dangerous,” Cynthia added with relish.

“I . . .” Ty shifted closer to Zane, nodding and clearing his throat.

“Since we did the BPD officers in the jail cell, maybe we could use the cuffs in this one?” Cynthia suggested.

Zane glanced at her, wondering if he should be scandalized.

“Okay, we have that CIA analyst in the suit already, sort of spy style,” Violet said, pulling out a notebook. “The bare-chested firemen. The two uniformed police officers in lockup. The EMT in the back of the ambulance. We need something different.”

“So maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go with a roughed-up, ‘not afraid to get a suit dirty in the line of duty’ look. With the guns, of course, since we’ve not used any actual weapons in a picture yet.”

Ty looked down at his suit, his favorite Tom Ford suit, and visibly balked at the mention of getting it dirty. “Maybe you could put us in civvies and have us undercover,” he suggested as he smoothed a protective hand over his lapel.

Susan gasped and grabbed his arm. “Under covers!”

“No. What? No!” Ty blurted.

“That’s brilliant!” Cynthia exclaimed.

Zane felt a real flash of panic. “I really don’t think—”

“Oh, I like this even more than the motorcycle!”

“He’ll do the motorcycle,” Ty tried, but they weren’t hearing him.

“Oh, this is perfect. I’ll call ahead and have them set up a bed.” Susan pulled out a cell phone as the ladies in the backseat chattered and jotted down notes.

Zane leaned in and hissed at Ty. “What have you done?”

Ty shrugged helplessly. “I . . . I’m . . . this is not my fault!”

Ty didn’t blame Zane for the glares he received as they rode to the penthouse suite together. He gave himself the same glares in the mirror as two makeup artists scruffed his hair. He had a napkin tucked into his collar to keep the hair product from touching the white V-neck T-shirt he was wearing. They weren’t putting makeup on him, thank God. Something about natural close-ups. Ty was trying to block it all out.

He stood when the man told him he was done, and the woman yanked the napkin out of his collar and nodded. Ty turned and headed for the other room in the suite where they’d set up all the cameras and flashing things and umbrellas and what the hell ever they were. In that room was also an artfully tousled bed dressed with charcoal-colored sheets, representing the gray world of undercover work.

Ty looked down at himself. It was close to what he would normally wear: tattered stonewashed jeans, thin T-shirt that stuck close to his frame, bare feet. They’d even left his accessories on him, deeming them stylish enough. A black rubber bracelet and brown leather string on one wrist, his black-banded silver dive watch on the other, his Marine Corps signet ring, and the compass rose on its leather cord. He still felt wildly out of place.

Then Zane walked in, shaking his head. He was dressed the same as Ty, only his T-shirt was black, and his dark jeans were even more threadbare. They’d mussed his hair, too, slicking it back and letting it curl around his ears.

Ty tried to fight down the gut reaction to seeing Zane like that, but it was impossible not to stare.

“You both look incredible!” Susan crooned as she came over and looked them up and down. She flipped her fingers through Zane’s hair, then turned to Ty and nodded approval. “Now, if you’ll both just climb into the bed, we’ll get this going!”

Ty fought back a nervous flutter and moved toward the bed, trying to relax his shoulders as he rolled onto it. Zane followed, not bothering to suppress a chuckle as he sprawled back against the headboard.

They sat side by side, long legs extended, arms crossed. Ty glanced sideways at Zane, unable to suppress the smirk. There was no denying they’d be laughing about this later. When Zane turned to meet Ty’s eyes, the camera popped and flashed. Zane shook his head, but he was smiling and his dark eyes reflected a spark when the flash went off.

“It appears you’re the good guy in this scenario,” Zane said, reaching out to pluck at the front of Ty’s white shirt.

“I think we’re in this one together.”

Zane’s jaw jumped as he fought a smile. Ty grinned and the camera went off again.

“Get it? Good and evil in bed together?” His words drew laughter, just not from Zane. “Come on, that’s funny!”

Zane rolled his eyes.

“It’s a pun!”

The cameras clicked away as they were instructed to move into various positions. Under the covers, on top of the covers, sitting up, stretched out flat, doing the same thing, doing different things. They were both repeatedly told to stop smiling, stop laughing, stop looking at each other. After a while, Ty began to feel disconcertingly okay with the whole thing, lying in bed with his partner in front of a dozen or so people who were snapping off pictures left and right. It was absurd.

“Okay, boys, time for something different,” Susan announced after a good half hour of them posing.

“Give us some last shots to finish, and we’ll have everything we need,” Susan requested. “Feel free to remove the shirts.”

Zane tipped his head to one side and shrugged, then gripped the hem of his shirt. Several people in the room tried hard not to stare.

Ty couldn’t blame them; Zane’s bare chest and muscular shoulders were definitely something to write home about. The camera continued taking pictures as Ty watched Zane strip the shirt off. Not to be outdone, Ty gave Zane a small wink and pulled his T-shirt off as well. When he tossed it toward one of the cameras on the periphery of the staged scene, Susan told the cameraman to zoom as close as he could to the scars that covered both men’s torsos.

Ty met Zane’s gaze. Zane’s eyes were drawn to Ty’s lips, and when he looked up again there was a new heat in his gaze. It stole Ty’s breath and he couldn’t look away.

“Gentlemen, keep looking at each other like that, please; these shots are incredible,” Susan told them.

Flashes continued to pop and the camera clicked away. It all faded as Ty stared at Zane.

“Well, I think that will certainly do it,” Violet finally said. Ty had to tear his eyes away before he was compelled to lean over and kiss his lover in front of all those cameras.

“Oh, definitely,” Susan agreed. “Agent Grady, come and take a look.”

Ty rolled out of bed and bent to pick up his discarded T-shirt, careful not to look back at Zane. He leaned next to her to look at the laptop. The photos taken were displayed in a grid on the screen, and Susan had the photographer go through them one by one, critiquing angles and posture, marking some as “no,” narrowing down the choices, all the while commenting on how photogenic Ty and Zane were.