Touch&Geaux (41 page)

finger, counting off his reasons. “The cartel came by boat,

which means they left Miami before we did. He didn’t see

us and then call them. They knew to be here because he told

them to be here.” He flipped up another finger. “He knew my

past here. You think it was coincidence I hit Gaudet’s radar as

soon as I landed? He effectively boxed us in, forced us to act.”

“I don’t know, Ty,” Nick finally said. “I don’t trust the

bastard either, but . . . I’m just not comfortable thinking he’s

that many steps ahead.”

Ty shrugged. “Neither am I.”

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“If that is what happened, why would he try to kill you?”

Owen asked. “Do you really think he just mixed those bullets

up?”Ty stared at the voodoo dol , long enough the silence

became uncomfortable. “He’s a scorpion and I’m a turtle,” Ty

finally answered.

“Are you hal ucinating again?” Zane asked.

Nick cleared his throat. “It’s a fable. The scorpion asks the

turtle to take him across the river. The turtle says no because

he’s afraid the scorpion will sting him. Scorpion tells Turtle

he won’t sting him because they’ll both drown. But halfway

across the river, the scorpion strikes. As they’re sinking, Turtle

asks him why, and Scorpion replies, ‘It’s just my nature.’”

Zane’s worried eyes moved to Ty, who was studying the

voodoo doll again. “That’s not good enough.”

“Maybe he knows Ty’s the only one who can catch him,”

Kelly rasped.

Ty stood carefully without another word, then took a step

toward Kelly. Kelly lifted a hand and Ty took it, squeezing it

gently. “I’ll be back, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Ty petted him on the head, then turned to shuffle out of

the room.

The rest of them began to stand, giving Kelly their own

goodbyes before they all filed out.

Nick stood at the doorway, watching the others walk

away.Digger put his arm over Owen’s shoulders. “Care for a few

cocktails?”

“It’s barely noon, man.”

“So? This is Nawlins!”

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They laughed as they headed for the elevator. Ty and Zane

followed, walking side by side but not saying anything. Nick

shook his head as he watched them go.

“They gonna be okay?” Kelly asked from the bed.

Nick pondered them. “Oh, you know Ty,” he finally said,

injecting some cheer into his voice. “He can squirm out of

anything.”

Ty was silent as Zane hailed a cab for them. Digger and

Owen had cavorted off into the French Quarter as if nothing

had happened that morning, but Zane was finding it a bit

more difficult to brush off.

He and Ty climbed into the cab, directing it to the

Bourbon Orleans, where they still had a room under Nick’s

name. What remained of their belongings had been taken

there earlier.

Zane glanced sideways at Ty. His neck was stained with

remnants of Digger’s fake blood and his real blood, and his

face was ashen, but Zane had seen him look worse. “I can’t

believe we both came out of this without anything other than

scratches,” Zane tried.

Ty bobbed his head distractedly.

“Do you still have the gris-gris bag?”

That caused Ty to raise his head. He licked his lips. “Yeah.

Gotta figure out how to cleanse it.”

“How?”

“There used to be a priestess on Rampart. Probably still

there.”

Zane studied him, wishing the distance between them

hadn’t grown so full of thorns. He worked hard to swallow

past the tightness in his throat.

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The taxi came to a stop and Zane paid the driver as Ty

trudged to the hotel entrance. Zane jogged to catch up with

him. “Hey,” he called, frustration growing as he followed Ty

through the lobby. “Are we going to talk about . . . anything?”

Ty punched the button on the elevator. He nodded, not

meeting Zane’s eyes. The doors opened and Ty stepped in,

turning to face Zane. “Do you love me, Zane?”

The simple question, asked with so little emotion in Ty’s

eyes, hit Zane like a hammer in the chest, stealing his breath,

making his knees go weak. He stumbled into the elevator

before the doors could close on them.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

Ty nodded. “And I love you.”

Zane released the breath he’d been holding. He was

relieved to hear that confirmation after all that had happened,

after all they’d said and done to each other. “So . . . what do

we do?”

“Well.” Ty swallowed, looking a little sick. “I can’t . . . I

can’t sit on your pedestal.”

“Ty.”

“No. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, Zane. I’m not. We’ve

both known from the start the only reason you got clean was

because I begged you to. You hang on by your fingernails

because I expect you to. It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to me.

I can’t be the reason you’re sober, Zane.”

Zane’s breath came out harsh and shaky.

“Because I’m not perfect, and the next time I let you

down, it can’t be me you’re leaning on. You have to be strong

enough to stay off the bottle. For you. Not me.”

Zane couldn’t meet Ty’s eyes anymore and he averted his

gaze to the floor. “I’m not proud of what I’ve done, Ty.”

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“Neither am I,” Ty whispered. He reached out and put

two fingers under Zane’s chin, lifting his head to meet his

eyes. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

Zane moved closer, his eyes rapt on Ty’s. Ty’s hand

moved from his chin to cup his cheek, and Zane leaned to

kiss him carefully. The kiss demanded nothing. It was merely

a sentiment of love and devotion from one man to another.

Zane’s heart pounded with the acceptance. When he

stepped back, they were still looking into each other’s eyes.

The elevator stopped and jolted them both. Zane took a deep,

bracing breath. “Where does that leave us?”

Ty shook his head. “I love you. You love me. We know

what we have can be strong. Stronger.”

Zane lowered his head before he could see the pain that

was about to pass over Ty’s face. The elevator door opened

and closed behind him. “But . . . the pieces have to be strong

for the whole to be. Right?”

“Yes,” Ty whispered. “And I’m not right now. I . . . I don’t

even know what I am anymore. I haven’t for a long time.”

“You’re a good man,” Zane said, vehement as he jerked his

head up. “You’re a brave man. And you’re a man who loves

with his whole heart and soul. That’s who you are.”

Ty pressed his lips together tightly. His eyes were

glistening, and as Zane watched, a tear broke free and trailed

down his face. Ty ducked his head and wiped it away with the

heel of his hand. “That’s who you think I am.”

Zane swallowed hard.

“I’m an assassin,” Ty said, his voice unsteady. “I’m a killer.

I’m the tip of a spear.”

The hair on Zane’s arms rose. His stomach tumbled.

Another tear followed the trail of the first down Ty’s dirty

face, but Ty didn’t seem to notice.

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“And you,” Ty continued, his voice breaking. “You’re a

phoenix, Zane. Rising from the ashes. And all I do is make

you burn.”

Zane’s throat was too tight to swallow past, and his next

breath came out a choked sob. He had never imagined that

was how Ty saw him, and hearing it now made him want to

take back every harsh word they’d ever shared, every thrust

and parry of their relationship. He reached for Ty’s face,

fingers trembling.

Ty hugged him, clinging to him, his breaths harsh in Zane’s

ear. “I’m going to stay here,” Ty said shakily. Zane gasped, but

Ty didn’t let him pull away. He held to him tighter. “Until the

suspension’s over. I’m going to stay here with Kelly. I’ll give

you that time and space you said you need.”

“Ty,” Zane whispered.

Ty wrenched away and dug in his pocket for something,

then shoved it into Zane’s hand and hugged him again like he

was afraid Zane might try to get away. When Zane looked at

the object over Ty’s shoulder, his chest fluttered at the sight

of the silver anchor token Ty had made him. I believe in you,

it read.

Zane wanted to argue, to beg Ty not to make him leave

him here. But Ty was right. He had realized it himself,

remembering the way he’d watched Becky, thinking her joy

was shared. The way he observed Ty’s vibrant lust for life and

fooled himself into thinking he was living just by basking in

that glow.

But he had no friends. He had no joys. He had nothing

that wasn’t about Ty or the job.

He had to learn to live. If he was a phoenix, he had to

learn to fly on his own, or he’d keep smoldering in his own

ashes.

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He nodded against Ty’s cheek. “Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay.”

323

ane sat at his desk, finishing up paperwork from a

Z
racketeering case they had been building for the last four

weeks. He’d been working without a partner, taking on more

responsibilities as a team leader. Two weeks ago, the Assistant

Special Agent in Charge had been promoted and transferred

to a different post, and Zane had unofficially moved into the

position, taking even more responsibility until it was filled.

It was a promotion in every sense of the word, and Dan

McCoy had let Zane know the ASAIC was his if he decided

to take it. It would mean no more field work.

No more partner.

Zane hadn’t been able to say yes, but he hadn’t refused

it either. Candidates were being vetted and interviewed, and

Zane had time to decide.

Until then, he concentrated on slowly but surely righting

his ship. He’d begun his AA meetings again, keeping the

anchor token with him at all times. He’d stopped going to the

gym quite as often, trying to fill his free time with other, more

varied things. He set up an easel and a massive drop cloth on

the top floor of the row house and began painting again. He

started talking out loud when the room was empty, like Ty

sometimes did, and he found it made his thoughts clearer to

send them into the air rather than keep them trapped in his

mind to weigh him down. He reread the books he’d clung to

all these years, reminding himself why he loved them the first

time around. Then he went out and hunted down new ones.

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With Ty’s permission, he went through every nook

and cranny in the row house. He looked through all of Ty’s

books, finding half a dozen with cutouts and things hidden in

them: passports, lockbox keys, money from several different

countries, a flash drive, the emblem from the grill of the

Bronco, and one of Elias Sanchez’s dog tags. He put it all back.

He finally looked under the kitchen sink, hunting through

everything to find what it was Ty had hidden under there. He’d

caught Ty once, when he’d lost his sight, rummaging through

here. What he finally found made him grin from ear to ear: a

box of Cuban cigars inside a fireproof, portable safe. He took

one out and put the rest back where he’d found them.

The most shocking thing he found, though, was

something he’d always known was there. In an armoire in the

spare bedroom, Ty kept dozens of little boxes. Decorative

boxes, old cigar boxes, leather jewelry cases. Zane had never

asked about them, never looked in them. He’d always been

just a little afraid to see what Ty kept in those boxes.

Ty managed to surprise him yet again. Inside he found

trinkets Ty had collected over the years. Things he’d picked

up and taken home for no apparent reason. Things from cases

he’d worked. Things from people he’d known. In one box,

Zane found a bottle cap from a Shiner beer, the kind he’d had

in Texas. A poker chip. A purple crayon. A piece of the fake

skin they’d used to cover his tattoo on the cruise ship. A dried

flower.

Zane discovered that Ty was basically a squirrel.

After the initial shock of being alone, he started branching

out further, trying to find out more about himself instead of

Ty. He went to a few Orioles games alone, immersing himself

in the intricacies and inches that had so fascinated him as a

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child. He started putting his knife skills and love of puzzles to

good use and taught himself to cook.

He stood outside of a bar in Fell’s Point with dozens of

others and watched the news as it was announced that Osama

bin Laden had been killed. For the first time in over a week,

Ty called him. They watched the same newscast, sharing it

together, neither saying more than ten words.

He escorted Clancy to her sister’s wedding, pretending

to be her very charming and wealthy boyfriend for her overly

nosy mother in exchange for the honor of a few tangos.

Clancy wasn’t a half bad dancer.

He helped Alston move out of his girlfriend’s condo,

all the while dodging Alston’s possessions being chucked at