by Abigail Roux
“Billy Ocean owns the rights to the other name.”
“Why would they name the ship Billy?” Ty asked with a sidelong look at Zane.
Zane ignored him, though the corner of his mouth curled up slightly. “Are there any of these activities that we seriously don’t need to be doing, regardless of the schedule? I really don’t think cliff diving is a good idea,” he said, the reluctance clear in his voice.
“Why?” Ty asked as he looked up at Zane curiously. He looked uncomfortable. It was an odd look on a man who’d gone through the things Ty knew Zane had gone through.
“What?” Ty insisted after another silent moment.
“It’s scary, okay?” Zane muttered. “Unnerving. I hate free fall.”
Ty fought hard not to smile or let any amusement show in his eyes, although he knew he could rarely hide emotions from Zane anymore. He nodded and reached out to pet Zane’s knee. “Me too,” he said simply.
Zane let out a slow breath and nodded before returning his attention to the papers. “Anyway,” he started, but he didn’t say any more than that.
“It helps if someone shoves you over the edge,” Ty told him seriously, thinking Zane’s fear of falling might go beyond simply falling off a cliff. It was the loss of control. It was just one more reason Ty knew that falling in love with his partner was a solo endeavor.
“I’ll pass, thanks,” Zane answered immediately. “I can handle this kind of stuff as long as I’m attached to a line. But diving off a cliff is just like losing my grip on a knotted rope.”
The knotted climbing rope at the FBI Academy represented Zane’s physical washout his first time through. He’d graduated the second time, but Ty knew he still thought of the academy and its rope as hell. “There’s always rock climbing,” Ty offered, but he couldn’t put much effort behind it. The conversation had struck a tender nerve, and he’d lost the relatively good mood he’d been in. He perused his itinerary silently, not really seeing it anymore.
“I was hoping for a break from dangerous situations,” Zane explained after a quiet moment. “We’re on a goddamn cruise ship, you know? What could happen? Who would go on a nice, relaxing cruise to take a fucking zip-line ride through the jungle treetops?”
Ty hummed thoughtfully, focusing on the question. “I’d be really interested to see the other guys’ itineraries, see which outings match up with all three,” he said suddenly. “What if these adventures have a purpose? Like, they’re going scuba diving, but they’re really collecting some antiquity off the ocean floor they mean to sell?”
“There’s a shopping extravaganza planned on Tortola, British Virgin Islands,” Zane said. “Maybe a meeting off-ship to make a sale?”
“Or a buy,” Ty said with a nod. He stood with his folder and began moving toward the balcony again, unconsciously drawn to the fresh air and light despite the frigid temperature outside. He reached over one shoulder and began rubbing the sore muscle at the base of his neck, his frown growing, his mood gone sour as he grew restless. This was why he tried to avoid any topics that evoked the thought of being in love. It always ended with the depressing knowledge that it was very much a free fall. A solo one.
“How about we take a break and go walk around while it’s still light out?” Zane suggested from behind him.
“Sounds good to me,” Ty muttered. He threw the folder onto the small sofa in the sitting area.
“Well, let’s go, then, doll,” Zane drew out in Corbin’s voice.
Ty winced and made a derogatory sound as he turned and looked at Zane. “Hold on, I have to put on my British,” he said with a long-suffering sigh.
Zane’s smile reappeared. “I’ll wait.”
Ty snorted. He’d been struggling with the persona of Del Porter, flitting in and out of it when he attempted to sink himself into it, worrying about the accent and his ability to maintain it when around other passengers. He slid his feet into a comfortable pair of loafers and waved Zane toward the door. “I’ll get it,” he told Zane with false confidence.
Zane appeared at his side rather than walking away, and he reached to curl his fingers around each of Ty’s wrists, capturing them firmly and slowly pulling them down and around Ty’s back as he leaned in close.
Ty raised one eyebrow, flexing his fingers against Zane’s grasp. He didn’t try to get loose though, and he didn’t feel the edge of panic threatening that he once would have, if his hands had been restrained. The handcuffs he knew he couldn’t handle.
But he trusted Zane.
“Maybe you should change into something nice,” Zane suggested smoothly. “Give me something gorgeous to look at while we walk around.” He kissed the soft skin under Ty’s chin.
Ty lifted his chin for the kiss, then looked back down his nose at Zane carefully, trying to decide if he was helping him become Del or making fun of him. Then Ty’s expression warmed, and he smiled wryly. There was a part of him that was almost enjoying the idea of the roles they were supposed to play, even though he’d spent most of the morning griping. It was certainly a far cry from who he really was.
“What would you like to see, darling?” he asked, the British accent back in full force.
A gentle tug on Ty’s arms had him arching back enough that Zane could nip at his throat. “Something that will get you noticed,” Zane murmured before he bit down and then licked over the abused skin. “You know how much I like that.”
Ty laughed even as he tried not to lose his balance and take them both down. “You hate that,” he corrected wryly.
Pursing his lips, Zane made a noise of agreement. “I suppose what I really like is seeing people covet you and knowing you’re mine.” He nipped at Ty’s earlobe before he released Ty’s wrists. “Go on then.”
Ty snorted, smiling almost sadly as he met Zane’s eyes. He sort of wished Zane meant it, rather than saying it as part of the character he was supposed to be playing. But wishing would get him nothing but heartbroken, and they had a case to concentrate on.
“We can do this,” he assured them both in a low voice.
THE itineraries told them which classy restaurant they were expected at for which meals, so picking a place for lunch the next day was a decision they didn’t have to make. Zane made a quick study of the finely appointed dining room—also decorated in greens and golds for the holidays—as the hostess led them to a table seating four other diners. That would leave two empty seats besides them, and they’d be able to socialize with relative ease. Zane pulled out a chair and nodded for Ty to sit down. His lips twitched as he watched Ty and waited for the show to start. Zane didn’t intend to stay quiet, but he definitely imagined “Del” as the bigger talker of the two.
Ty glanced at him and gave him a wicked grin, silently saying “watch this” as he sat down in the seat Zane had picked for him. Zane wouldn’t consider Ty an attention whore, but he definitely didn’t mind having the spotlight either. In another life, he probably would have made a great actor.
Ty greeted the other diners happily, smiling widely at them and receiving the same sort of warm response Ty always got when he turned on the charm. This was a whole new level of charisma, though, uninhibited and unfettered by Ty’s usual tough-guy image. Zane didn’t try to hold in the amusement or the smile—no reason to. He sat down, a bit back from the table so he could prop one arm on the edge and casually cross his long legs, and rubbed his hands together a bit. They were dry from the bit of ubiquitous hand sanitizer he’d gotten from a dispenser when they got out of the elevator.
Ty made a production of introducing them to the rest of the people at the table, receiving the names of their fellow diners in return. It was, after all, part of their job to identify the short list of names they’d been given. Two names, to be precise: Vartan Armen and Lorenzo Bianchi, the other two major players of the smuggling ring besides Corbin Porter. Zane certainly didn’t expect to go through the list of a few thousand passengers one by one, but they had to start somewhere. Lunch was as good a place as any.
“And how is everyone this afternoon?” Ty asked them grandly as he reached over and took Zane’s hand in his beneath the table. They weren’t being overly obvious with public displays, simply because Ty had claimed it lacked class to be all over each other all the time. So far they had managed to exude merely a subtle closeness that was all too familiar, the same kind they shared when in private. If Zane’s eyes happened to linger a little longer while watching his “husband”… well, who would blame him? Even with the garish blond hair, Ty was striking.
Ty continued to chat idly with the others, asking about their favorite things to do on board, including the Christmas parties throughout the cruise, and places to visit when they made port. Zane tried not to smile too much. It really was funny, if not somewhat shocking, listening to “Del” chatter. Ty was not what one would classify as a chatterbox. On the contrary he was—and Zane should have known better than to be surprised—a very competent conversationalist.
Zane turned his attention to the room at large, acting content to take in the scenery as he studied their surroundings: emergency exits, windows, safety measures, hidden cameras, other vacationers, loads and loads of decorations. He listened with half an ear until a waiter of Hispanic extraction, dressed neatly in the khaki-colored pants, white button-down Oxford, and navy blue sweater that was the crew uniform, approached and started taking drink orders after handing out a single sheet luncheon menu.
After hearing a variety of requests rattled off by the other passengers, the waiter stopped and looked at Ty expectantly. Ty looked up at him and hesitated, obviously having forgotten to peruse the menu.
“Anything you like, doll,” Zane spoke up smoothly, his low voice carrying.
Ty glanced to him and back at the waiter, quickly ordering a three-course meal from the menu that included a beverage meant to complement the meal. Zane wasn’t sure if Ty had actually looked at it or just pointed.
Zane skimmed the choices, picked a simple entrée and salad, and asked specifically for Evian rather than a cocktail. The waiter nodded, completed the other orders, and left. The conversation still went on around them, Ty speaking in the accent he’d almost perfected. Zane wasn’t hearing as many slips now as when they’d left the cabin. Ty even had the colloquialisms down when he used them. He might not have fooled a native, but he could have fooled Zane.
When Ty let his fingers slide over Zane’s palm as he smiled at one of their tablemates, Zane predicted that by the time this lunch was over, Ty’s face was going to hurt from smiling so much.
A member of the wait staff appeared with their beverages, placing a frozen, pale pink drink in front of Ty before moving on. Ty blinked at it, his nearly flawless façade wavering just slightly, but then he smiled and thanked the waiter as he reached for the peach Bellini.
Zane leaned toward him and practically purred, “Enjoy it, doll, we’re here to celebrate, right?” He laid his hand on Ty’s forearm and squeezed gently. He figured they were doing pretty well assuming these identities, even if they were making it up left and right. They were playing off each other well. Like a real married couple. Something about that made Zane feel better than he thought he should.
Ty squeezed his hand under the table, as if he knew what Zane had been thinking. A few moments later, Ty leaned toward him and said, “These pink things are actually pretty good.”
Zane laughed quietly, and Ty leaned away again. From then on, Zane relaxed and smiled as he talked with the gentleman nearby about recent politics, assuming what he thought of as Corbin’s cocksure drawl. When he shifted his gaze to look toward Ty some minutes later, Zane found himself wondering where this charming talker had come from and how he’d be able to keep him after the case. And that surprised him enough that he didn’t hear the waiter speak to him.
Zane blinked and realized he’d been staring when Ty nudged his knee expectantly under the table to prompt him. Then one of the women at the table tittered behind her hand, and instinct took over. Zane reached out to brush his knuckles lightly across Ty’s cheek as he smiled warmly and then turned his attention to the waiter, who was confirming his order before setting down his plate. Ty shivered involuntarily and shook his head, leaning away from Zane as the woman next to him asked him a question.
Zane could hear the two other couples at the table murmuring, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He had gotten caught, after all. It seemed to him from his quick study that Corbin wouldn’t care about what other people thought. Only Del—Ty—mattered, and his hand stayed in Zane’s, his thumb rubbing Zane’s fingers gently, sliding over the smooth metal of his fake wedding ring. It was oddly soothing.
It was easy to watch Ty’s masterful performance for the rest of lunch, and Zane let himself enjoy it.
Chapter 4
TY LAY on one of the teak deck chairs, stretched out with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed against the bright winter sun filtering through the protective glass that housed the indoor pool. Just after lunch he and Zane had decided to show their faces and actually try to enjoy themselves before they got deeper into the case. Ty had opted for the pool before remembering the piece of synthetic skin covering his tattoo. He wasn’t sure if it could be submerged, and he wanted to test that in private before he dove in.
He’d been lying still for far too long, though. He kept telling himself it was part of the cover. This was the only thing anyone expected him to do. They figured being in plain sight the first afternoon would be a good plan, and the pool area under the dome meant it was plenty warm, especially with the sun shining through the glass.
Ty wasn’t sure where Zane had gotten off to. He knew he couldn’t dog his partner’s steps for fear of looking too suspicious, but it made him nervous nonetheless, letting Zane out of his sight. He knew there were agents on the ship somewhere, no doubt looking out for them. But he had yet to make any of them, and that alone disturbed him.
No one was so good that they could consistently hide when a trained eye knew to look for them. Ty told himself they were probably keeping a low profile and not to worry about it.
Finally, he couldn’t take the relaxation any longer, and he raised his head, squinting as he looked around to see if Zane was anywhere near, searching for a dark head somewhere. He passed over the first three almost immediately. Then he caught sight of a man surfacing in the pool amidst a gathering of women in various amounts of swimsuit.
Ty cocked his head, allowing himself to examine the tightening of his chest in reaction to spotting his partner. It had been happening more frequently lately. Ty didn’t know if it was because he just had more opportunities to spot Zane in a crowd now, or if it was due to the more obvious possibilities. He had stopped trying to deny the fact that he was in love some weeks ago. The fact that they were not only able to show each other some attention here on the cruise ship, but that they were encouraged to do so, was only adding to the weight of the feelings he’d realized in the mountains of West Virginia.
He still had his doubts, of course, and the thought still unnerved him, but he had pretty much come to terms with it. It was almost amusing. If he’d been a betting man, he would never have picked himself from the two of them to be the sap who fell in love.
Ty sighed slightly and shielded his eyes, watching Zane idly.
It was clear that several of the women were flirting with him, and it was crystal clear that Zane—Corbin—was vastly amused. Zane slicked his wet hair back with one hand as he spoke with a couple of them before the group laughed and Zane gave that full-of-it smile Ty had quickly come to associate with Corbin. The real Corbin Porter was obviously a dick, if Zane’s impression of him was anything to go by.
But Zane, with the self-assured addition to his attitude, was hitting buttons Ty hadn’t even known he possessed. He sighed, looking down at the silver ring on his finger. It was still odd to see it there. And it was unnerving that he still couldn’t seem to get it off. He tugged at it like he had been all morning. It was just a little too tight, and
it didn’t budge over the still-swollen, scarred knuckle. Tonight he intended to take some soap to it. Or if that failed, Astroglide.
He looked back up, sighing as he continued trying to spin it around on his finger. It took a long moment for it to register that Zane was wading toward him, a couple of the women trailing along, still talking as they entered into shallower water.
Ty watched him appreciatively, not worried that anyone could see like he normally did. Hell, it would be odd if people saw him not watching now, right? He stretched back out on his deck chair, crossing one ankle over the other and putting his hands behind his head again.
It gave him a comfortable vantage point to see the water stream over Zane’s skin as he climbed the shallow steps out of the pool. Ty’s eyebrow climbed as he took in the bright red European swim shorts that stuck to Zane’s skin like crepe paper, well below the navel, a streak of scarlet across his lean hips and muscled abdomen.
Ty crossed his ankles the other way and looked up at the sky briefly, fighting his natural reaction to the view. His own swim trunks were similar, but in black. He hoped he pulled the look off as well as his partner did.
Then Zane lifted the towel to wipe his face and turned his back to Ty. Ty did a double-take when he caught sight of the ink on the lowest part of Zane’s back, under the mishmash of thin white scars he knew were there. It looked like a twisted vine with small leaves and thorns—a simple but striking set of black lines that wrapped and twisted around, reaching from hip to hip along Zane’s lower back before dipping down to a point just inside those very brief red shorts, forming an inverted triangle that stood out against Zane’s tanned skin.
How the hell had he missed that?
Ty slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle the laugh that threatened. Finally, Zane was getting a little of the same treatment Ty had been dealing with. Ty supposed being forced to wear white linen and platinum hair was better than a henna tramp stamp.
