Cut & Run (36 page)

He’d seen what they could do to even the strongest of men, days, even months after the initial injury.

Walking back with two pills and a glass of water, Zane crouched down again. “Real Tylenol, see? Only two,” he joked quietly, offering them palm up. “Bottoms up, then bottom down. You need to sleep.”

“Ugh,” Ty commented quietly as he took the pills and downed them.

“Just a few minutes,” he insisted stubbornly.

“What for?” Zane asked.

“We’ve gone AWOL,” Ty said with difficulty, using the wrong terminology and not even realizing it. “Gotta get something done.”

Zane frowned. “What is it? Something I can do?”

“No, just …
something
. Anything,” Ty clarified.

Shaking his head, Zane settled a hand on Ty’s arm. “What you need to do is sleep,” he insisted. “Then we can do
something
. But we can’t if you can’t even walk.”

“Point,” Ty allowed as he let himself slowly curl on his side.

Zane nodded and tugged off Ty’s boots before pushing his legs up onto the bed and pulling up the sheet. “Yell if you need me,” he murmured, sliding his hand through Ty’s hair gently. Ty grunted in answer, already drifting off.

Getting to his feet, Zane rubbed his face with one hand and sighed, looking around aimlessly. If he left the room, Ty would smack the shit out of him when he woke up. Zane was certain of that. So with a sigh he pulled off the leather jacket and walked out to the front of the suite to wait.

218 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

HOURS later, Ty awoke with a gasp, reaching for a knife he hadn’t slept with in almost seven years. Zane glanced up from where he sat at a small table in the corner of the bedroom, writing notes on a hotel notepad. “Ty?” he said quietly.

Ty looked over at him, wild-eyed and tense for a brief moment before he seemed to calm himself. His breathing was still labored, though, and he was still taut as a bowstring.

Cautiously, Zane laid down the pen and kept both hands above the table, moving as little as possible. The man looked really spooked. And a spooked Force Recon Marine with a head injury was not someone to fool around with. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Ty watched Zane for a long time before lowering his eyes, as if looking for the answer to the question. He glanced at the window with its heavy drapes drawn, and he looked down at the toes of his socks briefly before licking his lips and nodding. “Okay,” he answered cautiously.

“Need some more Tylenol? Something to drink?” Zane asked, watching closely. He thought that the other man
did
look better. Not pale, not sweating, steadiness back in his eyes. Sort of. But no sign of any recognition on Ty’s part sent a cold slice of worry through him.

“No,” Ty answered in the same cautious tone. He reached out slowly and patted his left calf, not finding what he was looking for and frowning as he looked around the bed for whatever was missing.

“What are you looking for?” Zane asked, brow furrowing.

Ty glanced back up at Zane as if he wasn’t sure he was real. “My knife,” he answered dubiously. He licked his lips and watched Zane for another second before clearing his throat and muttering, “I didn’t have my knife, did I?”

Zane pressed his lips together. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

Ty looked slightly stricken as he stared at Zane. He watched him warily, then finally nodded in acceptance.

“You know who I am?” Zane asked evenly.

Ty nodded again, rolling his shoulders to try to ease some of the tension invested in them.

Cut & Run | 219

“How about some water?” Zane asked, scooting his chair back from the table.

“Okay,” Ty answered cautiously, still scowling at Zane and watching him warily.

“You know who
you
are, right?” Zane ventured, stopping at the foot of the bed.

“Yes,” Ty muttered grumpily. “Jackass,” he added to let Zane know he really did remember him.

Zane grinned and leaned over. “Hmmm. I’d kiss you to welcome you back from la-la land, but it’s against the rules.”

Ty blinked at him, eyes widening slowly at the highly unusual pronouncement. “Rules?” he asked in a suddenly hoarse voice.

Biting his lip, Zane shook his head. “Well,” he muttered, “despite what you think, I never was one for rules.” He reached forward to hold Ty’s chin and kissed him firmly, a little bit of relief easing the tension in Zane’s body.

Ty tensed and returned the kiss as if he was merely too surprised not to do so, but then he relaxed slowly and leaned forward into it. “I hope to hell I can remember where that came from,” he murmured with a small smile.

Zane hummed against Ty’s lips lowly. “Good,” he said, voice a little rough. Just one kiss and he was aroused. Zane closed his eyes for a moment, taking a steadying breath and pushing himself away from the bed.

“That … that’s pretty damn nice,” Ty said softly as Zane moved away from him. Zane paused, looking back at Ty with darkened eyes before he sank to sit facing him on the bed, waiting to see what he would do. Was this the real Ty? The one who stayed hidden under layers of Marine training and forced sarcasm? Or was it just the conk on the head?

Ty watched him quietly, eyes unusually calm and thankfully clear once more. “I remember wanting you pretty bad,” he finally admitted.

Zane stayed quiet for several heartbeats. “Wanting … then?” he asked quietly.

Ty just shook his head and gave a small, embarrassed half-smile.

“Just … in general.”

A smile slowly pulled at Zane’s mouth. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Ty licked his lips and grinned slowly. “I’m going to deny saying that 220 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

when my head stops hurting,” he told Zane gruffly.

“I wouldn’t expect any less. Can’t have you threatening my pansy-ass status in this relationship,” Zane quipped.

Ty raised an eyebrow and jerked his chin to the side at the word.

“Relationship?” he asked with a small laugh. He remembered screwing around with the man. He didn’t remember any “relationship,” so to speak.

Zane rolled his eyes despite the jump in his pulse at Ty’s reaction.

“Don’t read into it. We
are
partners, after all.” He shifted his weight to stand back up. Ty’s hand shot out with surprising speed and grabbed him. Zane stopped in place, turning dark, questioning eyes on Ty. Ty inclined his head in a beckoning gesture and gave Zane’s hand a slight tug.

Sliding over onto his thigh, Zane shifted closer, interested, but also somewhat suspicious. Ty was a devious little fucker. Zane could hope for a kiss … but he figured it was about sixty-forty Ty would shove him to the floor. All in jest, of course.

“Are we doing the right thing?” Ty asked breathlessly as he looked up at Zane.

Zane looked down at the hand that still grasped his wrist, then up at Ty, the desire written all over him. “I don’t know,” he admitted in a rasp, facing the quandary of the two of them together head-on. “But it sure as hell feels right.”

Ty just shook his head and licked his lips, attention rapt on Zane’s eyes. “I don’t mean us. I mean the case. Should we even still be here?” he asked in a rough voice.

Cheeks reddening, Zane blinked rapidly at him. “The case. I don’t know anymore,” he said quietly.

A moment passed in silence, not even the sound of their breathing breaking the moment. Finally, Ty tugged Zane closer and kissed him passionately.

“Goddamn, Ty,” Zane rasped once they separated to breathe.

“I think maybe a shower is in order,” Ty muttered with one final kiss.

He felt himself searching for any reason not to go through with what he had started. It felt too much like spinning out of control for him to be comfortable.

He kissed Zane again impulsively and then pushed him away to crawl off the bed and start for the bathroom carefully. He felt like he might fall over if he moved too quickly.

Cut & Run | 221

Rolling to his side, Zane watched Ty walk away. “Yeah,” he whispered. Christ, what a view. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds.

What would he do when Ty went back to being … Ty? As much as he found
this
Ty endearing and sexy as hell, it was disconcerting to have him be so totally different from the man Zane had come to know, sex and all. It was like meeting a new partner all over again, one that was easy to work with and actually friendly and affectionate, and Zane just didn’t know what to think of it. Even worse, he could feel the dangerous allure of it, threatening to drag him under with wanting it.

Ty clanked around in the bathroom for a few moments before the shower started, and soon he was out again, a towel around his shoulders and running it through his short hair carefully as he watched Zane and moved closer. His entire right side was covered with nasty purpling bruises, and he walked with a slight hitch to his step. “What day is it?” he finally asked with a wince.

“Friday,” Zane murmured. He was on his back again, arm thrown over his eyes.

Ty frowned but said nothing in response, instead walking closer to the bed and flopping the towel down on Zane’s thighs. “You okay?” he asked.

Zane lifted his arm. His brow was furrowed as he looked at Ty.

“Yeah?” What was Ty asking about? His state of mind? Zane moved his hand to grasp the towel as he looked up at Ty, who was towering over him. God, he was incredible-looking like this—even all beaten up—flushed and soft after a hot shower.

“You sure?” Ty asked. “I feel like I’m becoming more a hindrance than a help,” he admitted.

“Not to me,” Zane answered evenly.

Ty nodded and lowered his head, retrieving his towel from Zane’s grasp without another word.

Zane sat up and peered up at his partner. “How fuzzy are you, still?

Do we need to lay low until your brain pulls itself out of the frying pan?” he asked worriedly.

Ty lowered his head and looked at Zane from under lowered brows.

“Things are fuzzy,” he admitted after a moment of honest self-examination. “I remember most of the important things. Mentally I’m okay. Physically, not so much. I think if we were in a fight tonight I’d be a liability,” he added with a wince as he bowed his head again.

222 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

“Then we’ll stay in and take it easy. I do want to make a few phone calls and go pick up our stuff, get those personnel files to Henninger. Right now, that’s our only lead. Other than that, we’re sadly lacking in choices to pursue on the case. I hate to say it … it’s going to take another killing—and some lucky evidence—to give us a break.”

“Maybe if we weren’t ducking and covering every other day we’d have made more progress,” Ty muttered sulkily as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Where are the files again?”

“At the other room,” Zane answered evenly, trying not to show how worrying it was that Ty was having trouble remembering. “I’ll run out and pick them up, get us some food other than room service and some snacks, and head back this way,” he continued nonchalantly.

Ty looked up at him, something like hurt resentment in his eyes.

“What about Henninger? Can you call him to go with you?” he finally asked resignedly.

Zane turned his chin and looked at him evenly. “I’d rather have you there. But yeah, I can call him.”

Ty merely looked up at him blankly, his façade from the first several days slowly returning. Zane’s lips twitched ruefully. There was “his” Ty. It was something like protective armor. If Ty was feeling threatened, he turned into that man. Zane stood and walked out to the front room to call Henninger.

At least this Ty he knew how to handle. The other, softer man threw him totally. But oddly, Zane’s chest hurt. It was something he had said that made that newer man disappear again.

“I’ll go with you if you trust me to,” came a soft call from the bedroom.

Torn, Zane held the cell in one hand. The past day and a half, Ty had threatened him with bodily harm if he went back to the Holiday Inn without him—something Zane had first thought was disdain for his abilities, but later discovered was concern. Now, Ty was acting like Zane was the one who was sitting in judgment over
his
abilities. Sliding the phone into his pocket, Zane walked back to the bedroom door.

“You know I’m not all here,” Ty said to him flatly as he sat on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped between his knees.

“Even not all here, you’re better than I am,” Zane said conversationally. “It’s up to you to believe me or not.” Ty was Recon. A goddamn Marine. A top undercover agent. Survival was ingrained in his Cut & Run | 223

instincts and reflexes, things that just didn’t come naturally to Zane.

Ty jerked his head slightly and looked up at Zane appraisingly. “Give me a minute to get dressed, then,” he finally muttered.

Zane nodded and walked to the dressing table where he’d set out their guns and started adjusting his holster. Ty dressed slowly, quietly dreading another attack of dizziness or nausea. Finally, he looked over his shoulder as he buttoned his shirt and muttered, “I don’t like feeling useless.”

“I know,” Zane replied, not turning around from where he was checking over the guns. Ty turned and watched the movements of Zane’s shoulders as he checked that the guns were loaded and working properly. He moved closer, bare feet on the carpet letting him move almost soundlessly. He stopped just out of arm’s reach and slid his hands into his pockets.

“Is there anything else I’m not remembering, Zane?” he asked softly, the words slow and pointed.

Zane looked up, though he didn’t turn, hands still moving knowledgeably on the weapon. “Such as?”

“I couldn’t say,” Ty answered in quiet confusion. He could feel that Zane expected something of him, and he knew whatever it was, he wasn’t delivering.

The falter in Ty’s voice made Zane’s shoulders stiffen. He turned around. “Ty,” he sighed. “I’m just worried, all right? This isn’t … exactly …

you. It’s not bad, it’s not wrong, just not the same, and it worries me. It worries me what you’ll think about it after. What you’ll think about me.

Okay?” He held out Ty’s gun, butt toward the other man.