Touch&Geaux (23 page)

shoulder for cover. No one spoke. No one moved, save for

Zane periodically checking the time.

Digger eventually materialized from the crowd, Owen

on his heels. They’d apparently met up somewhere and made

their way here together. They approached warily, sensing the

tension in the group. Neither man said a word when they

joined them.

“Okay then,” Zane finally said, relieved everyone had

made it out. “We have all our stuff stashed, we’ll go get it. But

where to after that?”

“We can’t break town,” Nick grunted. He had yet to take

his eyes off Liam. “We need somewhere to lay low, regroup.”173

“And then you can tell us what the fuck is going on,” Kelly

added.

Zane nodded.

“Where do we go?” Liam asked. “My safe house is blown.”

“How?” Zane demanded.

“Too much activity, I don’t trust it.”

Ty glanced over his shoulder at the man, then back at

Zane. His mouth was set in a grim line. “I might know the

perfect place.”

“Ava?” Zane asked. Ty nodded.

Nick snorted. “The girl who tried to kill you with a

cleaver?”

“It’s worth a shot. I think she might be in danger too; I

need to warn her.”

“We’ll split up, then,” Liam said. He gave Ty another

pat. “You test the waters with cleaver girl, and we’ll get our

supplies.”

Ty glared over his shoulder, but he nodded. “You four, go

with him. Keep him in line. Zane and I will scout it out and

call you in thirty.”

The others nodded, albeit grudgingly as Liam led them

away. Zane and Ty were left alone. Meeting Ty’s eyes made

Zane’s stomach flutter, but the anger lingered. He clenched

his teeth, trying to keep it in.

“You okay?” Ty asked.

“He didn’t hurt me.”

“Not yet, maybe. He’s slick, Zane. Don’t ever let your

guard down around him.”

“Really?” Zane snarled. He took a step closer, straightening

to his full height so he could look down at Ty. “Because that’s

what people have been saying about you for two years now.”

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Ty flinched, but he didn’t look away. He pushed his

shoulders back, narrowing his eyes. It was like watching a dog

bristle as it stared down a threat. Zane hadn’t felt that since

their first few weeks together. He refused to back off, though.

He put his finger on Ty’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten

just because your ass needed saving.”

It was too dark to read Ty’s expression, but he finally broke

eye contact to glance down at Zane’s finger.

“Where is this place?” Zane asked when it became

apparent that Ty wasn’t going to respond.

Ty spoke through gritted teeth. “Just off Frenchmen

Street. Down Decatur and across Esplanade.”

“Lead the way.”

Ty stared at Zane for another few breaths. Then he

stepped past him, brushing his shoulder against Zane’s as he

set off through the carousing crowd.

Ty didn’t say a word as they prowled toward the far edge

of the French Quarter, heading to the little two-block area of

Frenchmen Street and the adjoining Faubourg Marigny. Zane

knew how Ty felt about going to see Ava again, and Zane

wasn’t too happy about it either. There was a good chance

she’d be holding a grudge, and with good reason. Zane knew

what kind of lies had to be told when you were undercover,

and now, thanks to Ty, he realized how badly it hurt to be on

the receiving end of them.

But their options were few and far between, and Ty

seemed to think she was in danger.

At least he’d be along to make sure she didn’t throw

another knife at Ty. If she did, she’d have a couple to dodge

herself.

So, forearmed and forewarned, Zane followed Ty out of

the lively French Quarter into the more sedate residential area

of Marigny.

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Ty turned onto a cobblestone alley of stone walls covered

with ivy and blooming flowers. It really was gorgeous down

here, with the gaslights and wrought-iron gates and ambiance

galore. Even the shards of glass in the concrete on top of walls

and fences, meant to keep revelers out of private yards, had its

own charm. New Orleans had character. Zane hadn’t really

appreciated it when he’d been here with Becky. He’d been

more concerned with watching her, observing the joy of the

experience through the way she lit up.

He often found himself doing the same thing with Ty.

He enjoyed the way Ty lived through every pitch at a baseball

game more than he enjoyed the game itself.

How much of his own life had he forgotten to live as he

watched the people he loved?

The crowd thinned until they were the only ones on the

street, offering them less cover. Ty took Zane’s arm so they’d

look more like a couple returning home than two fugitives

skirting the shadows. He felt stiff as he did it, as if he expected

Zane to rebuff him. Zane’s breath was hard to catch. He had

never imagined being alone with Ty feeling so awkward.

“Places this side close down at two,” Ty said. He abruptly

turned into a narrower, shadier alley.

Zane slowed, scowling at his surroundings. His arm

slipped out of Ty’s as Ty kept walking. “Hey.”

Ty stopped and turned, and Zane had a flash of memory,

a picture of Becky, her hair bouncing as she turned, her eyes

shining.

Zane stared at Ty’s hazel eyes, shocked into silence.

“You okay?” Ty asked.

Zane shook his head. “I think I’ve been here before.”

Ty raised an eyebrow and looked down the alleyway. “Lots

of these back alleys look alike. This is a local place, pretty far

off the tourist path.”

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Zane glanced at the cobblestone and the plain stone walls.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Ty continued down the alley, and after a few dozen yards

he stopped at a weathered wooden door set into the crumbling

stone wal . The carved sign that hung over the door read La

Fée Verte.

Zane stared at it. He was almost certain that had been the

name of the dive Becky had dragged him to all those years

ago.Ty pressed his shoulder against the door, and it creaked

open accusingly.

Within was the same large room Zane remembered from

his dreams. It was still ill-lit and crowded with tables, and the

single microphone stand still stood on the stage in front of

wine-colored curtains.

Candles flickered in hurricane lamps on the tables, only

now it seemed they were battery powered. Years of wax

drippings still decorated the tables.

Zane glanced around, stunned. He turned where he

stood, staring at the stage, his mind recreating that night,

the man he’d watched and found himself attracted to, the

first man he’d ever realized he might want, the man he’d

almost unconsciously based most of his sexual encounters on

since. He could still see the man standing on that stage, wide

shoulders, playful smirk, shining eyes, and a beautiful voice.

“Ty.” Zane gaped at him.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“It was you,” Zane whispered.

Ty looked around the bar, brow furrowing.

“Ty, it was you. The man I saw singing, the one I told you

about . . . it was you, wasn’t it?”

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Ty’s eyes strayed to the stage, then back to Zane. He didn’t

look all that shocked. There was a bang from the back and a

curtain behind the bar wavered.

A dark-haired woman poked her head out to cal , “We’re

all closed up now. Try Bourbon Street.” She disappeared

behind the curtain again.

Ty and Zane both stared at the curtain before sharing a

glance. “It was you,” Zane whispered again, still rocked to his

very foundations by the revelation.

“It couldn’t be. You said it was your anniversary. I wasn’t

here yet in July.”

“It was for our anniversary. We came in December because

it was easier.”

Ty stood motionless, eyes on Zane for a long moment

before he glanced back at the curtain. It wasn’t but a few

seconds before the curtain swayed again, and the woman

shoved it aside as she stepped out. She was on the shorter

side, with long hair so black it was almost blue in the smoky

haze. A fluffy white feather was tucked behind her ear, and

on closer inspection, several more feathers of various colors

appeared to be part of her hair too.

Her dark eyes were lined in kohl, masking their real color,

and it was hard to tell in the dim light but she seemed exotic

in a way, like there may have been Native American blood in

her. She was athletic and curvy, certainly Ty’s type, wearing

black pants that hugged her hips and a laced corset for a top.

Her body was tense as she stared at them.

Zane glanced from Ty to her and back. She was surprised,

that was clear, which told Zane she wasn’t behind the hex Ty

was sure had been put on him.

“Tyler Beaumont,” she said.

“Hello, Ava,” Ty responded. Zane knew he was nowhere

near as calm as he sounded.

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She moved suddenly, vaulting over the bar and running

toward him. Zane almost moved to block her, but Ty didn’t

flinch as she launched herself at him and wrapped her arms

around his neck. He grunted in pain, stumbling beneath her

weight as she hugged him.

She let him go and slid her feet to the floor, then smacked

Ty with an oath that sounded like mangled French. When she

pulled back for another smack, Zane reached out and caught

her wrist midair. Ty’s guilty conscience may have been willing

to stand there and take it, but there was a limit to how much

Zane would allow, even if he did want to do the same right

now.She yanked her hand out of Zane’s grasp and drew a deep

breath. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“I heard about Murdoch,” Ty told her, remarkably calm in

the face of her temper.

She glared at Zane, her eyes raking him up and down.

“This is my partner, Zane Garrett.”

“You’re a Fed too?” she spat at Zane.

It was sort of a bullshit question, but she was obviously

rattled by Ty showing up out of thin air. Zane tipped his head

and raised one eyebrow in silent confirmation, if not a subtle

dare to comment about it, before looking her over in return,

checking for obvious weapons.

“Zane, this is Ava Gaudet. Ava, we need your help.”

“Right,” she said with obvious disdain. She turned her

dark eyes back to Ty. “You need my help. Like you needed my

help before?”

Ty narrowed his eyes before letting them stray to meet

Zane’s. He shook his head. “This was a waste of time,” he said

to Zane. He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Zane was perfectly willing to let any of Ty’s old flames

carry on without them, so he nodded and took a slow step

179

back. He didn’t see any knives on Ava, but that didn’t mean

there wasn’t one. Or more.

Ty turned to go, showing no compunctions about

exposing his back to the woman.

She sighed loudly and held up her hand. “Wait. What do

you want from me?”

Ty studied her briefly before digging into his pocket and

pul ing out the small red bag he’d been carrying. Zane didn’t

know how he’d retrieved it from the police station, but he’d

obviously thought it a priority as he and Liam had escaped.

He held it up and let it drop, holding it between two fingers

by its cord.

Ava gasped and took an involuntary step back, running

into Zane. He steadied her with a hand on each arm. “Well, I

guess that answers that.”

“Is that like the one the cops said they found on Murdoch?

Where did you get that?” Ava asked Ty, sounding as if she’d

forgotten how angry she was.

“It was under my mattress,” Ty answered through gritted

teeth.

She glanced between them. “Well, I didn’t do it! I didn’t

even know you were in town.”

“We need a place to lay low. There are seven of us. People

are after us, and so are the police.”

“Feet pue tan!” she shouted.

Ty cleared his throat, looking at Zane wryly. “She just

called me a goddamned son of a bitch.”

“I like her,” Zane responded.

“You need my help? You don’t need my help, you need

an army!” She shooed Ty toward the door. “I want no part in

whatever you’re doing.”

“A girl was murdered last night,” Ty hissed.

180

“That is not my problem!” Ava shoved him toward the

door, both hands on his chest. He didn’t budge, and she

couldn’t make him.

“She looked like you,” Ty said loudly. He held up the bag.

“She had one of these.”

Ava was breathing hard, but she stepped back and stared

at the bag, then glanced over her shoulder at Zane. She looked

genuinely frightened. “You think they meant to kill me?”

“Yes. The police think I killed her and Murdoch. My

name was in these bags.”