by Abigail Roux
Nick was silent, waiting. It felt like hours before Owen whispered into the phone again. “Ty kills me for this, I’m haunting you for the rest of your life,” he told Nick. And then the call was over and Nick was left to listen to the shouting drifting down the stairs.
Ty stood beside their bed, holding their bloodstained mattress pad in his hands. It turned out the pad had saved the mattress, but Ty didn’t seem to care anymore. Zane watched him worriedly.
“Next time I’m about to do something stupid, try harder to stop me, okay?” Ty said, voice tired and thin.
“Me and what army?” Zane asked as he hung his shirt on the hook by the door to let it dry.
Ty snorted at him, still scowling at the bloody material between his thumb and forefinger.
“Ty, I . . .”
Ty shook his head. He let the mattress pad drop to the ground and crawled into bed, burying his face under Zane’s pillow. He inhaled noisily, probably breathing in Zane’s scent.
Zane smiled, trying not to be too amused. A miserable Ty was sometimes a ridiculous thing of beauty. A moment later Zane crawled in next to him, his hand on Ty’s back.
“You did what your training told you was right,” he said, stuffing his head under the pillow with Ty so he could be near him.
Ty shoved the pillow aside. “I reacted by the fucking book, Zane. My best friend was here begging for my help. What . . .”
“Ty,” Zane said when Ty trailed off. “You have to forgive yourself before Nick ever will. And you’re going to have to figure out if you want to forgive him. We’ll find him. We’ll figure out how to deal with this.”
Ty laid his head back down, gazing desperately into Zane’s eyes. “You know what scares me most?”
“Chipmunks?” Zane asked with a gentle smile.
Ty snorted despite looking like he didn’t want to. He sighed. “I can’t decide whether I want him to be right, or whether I want him to be wrong.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? ’Cause I don’t. If he’s right, then . . . a man who treated me like a son all my life was actually trying to kill me. I mean, imagine we adopted a son, okay? And imagine when he got older, after I’d taught him everything I knew, I used him for my own gain and then tried to kill him.”
Zane was silent, struggling with the scenario and the anger that accompanied it. He ran his thumb over the bulldog tattoo on Ty’s arm, the scar that marred it. “You were the tip of a spear,” he said almost wistfully.
“But if Nick’s wrong?” Ty continued. “He killed the man who gave us both a second chance in life.”
“I know,” Zane said, and gripped Ty’s arm.
“Nick killed him. How do we deal with that?”
“You don’t, not yet.” Zane had begun to make slow circles with his palm against Ty’s shoulder. “We’re going to look into this as deep as we can. We’re going to get to the truth and deal with it. Until then, Nick is a man who loves you, who’s been loyal to you for twenty years, and who did what he thought was right in order to save you and me. That’s how you deal with this right now.”
Ty’s eyes were welling as he stared past Zane’s shoulder, at Nick’s knife still stuck in the wall beside their bed. The note was sitting on the dresser.
“He told me I’d put a bullet in his head if someone ordered me to.”
Zane’s hand came to Ty’s cheek, forcing him to meet his eyes instead of looking at that knife. “He was wrong.”
“I need to get him back, Zane,” Ty croaked.
“I know. And I’m here to help you do it, baby. Even if it’s to handcuff him to the bed again.” Zane gathered Ty up in his arms, rolling him until he was tucked safely against Zane’s chest. Ty deflated, apparently allowing himself the luxury of wallowing for the night.
It was long minutes before Zane huffed against Ty’s hair, a smile pulling at his lips. “Can I start calling you hubby?”
“Do it and die.”
“Snookums, then.”
Ty made a gurgling sound that might have been an attempt at not laughing. The warmth of it filtered through Zane’s mind and body, and he began to settle as the house around them creaked and quieted.
But Ty couldn’t truly rest. He was agitated in Zane’s arms, keeping them both awake. Zane just held to him, trying to be a solid, steady presence. His mind replayed every moment of the day as Ty tossed and turned, details niggling.
Just an hour after they’d settled, he sat up and rested his hand on Ty’s belly, shaking him awake. “Honest answer.”
“Okay?”
“If I was in Nick’s position, hurt, on the run, in the snow. Would you decide it was too late or too cold to keep looking for me?”
“Is that really a question you even have to ask me?”
Zane raised both eyebrows at his husband in the morning light. “So, do you buy that Doc called it quits and met Johns and Digger back at the hotel?”
Ty sat up beside him, sighing heavily. “No,” he finally decided. They stared at each other, Ty’s expression growing harder before he whispered, “They lied to us. Doc found him. Johns knew it.”
Zane tossed the comforter aside and swung his legs off the bed. “Let’s go, then.”
Twenty minutes later, Zane flashed his badge at the receptionist as they entered the lobby. “I need the room number for Owen Johns.”
The woman stuttered at him, obviously not aware of the legalities of such a request and shocked by their sudden appearance.
Zane slammed his hand down on the desk to take advantage of her confusion. “Now!”
She nodded and turned to her computer, typing shakily as she glanced at Ty and Zane. Ty bent over the counter to see the computer screen.
“Key,” Ty said, waving his fingers at her in a “give me” gesture.
It took her three attempts to code the card for them, and Ty snatched it out of her hand as soon as she was done. They turned away from her before she could gather her wits or call for a manager.
Zane could feel Ty vibrating beside him in the elevator. He kept looking at him sideways to see if he was okay. But he also realized that this felt so fucking good, the two of them out somewhere, flashing badges, heading to confront someone with a gun.
“I miss this,” he admitted.
Ty glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. He cracked a smile. “Me too.”
“I want this back,” Zane added before he could think the better of it.
Ty blinked rapidly, turning to face him. “Me too.”
The door dinged and slid open, leaving them staring at each other in the open elevator. Zane’s eyes drifted toward the gun at Ty’s hip. “Should we call in backup?”
“They’re my friends, Zane,” Ty grunted, breaking the spell and stepping into the hallway.
“That why you have the gun?”
“I owe Liam Bell a bullet,” Ty growled as he stalked down the hallway toward the door.
They set up outside the room, both of them putting an ear to the door to listen. Zane could hear voices within. It was impossible to make out words, though.
Ty held up the key. “On green.”
Zane nodded and drew his gun, resting his other hand on the door handle.
Ty slid the key into the slot, and on green Zane shoved the door open. Ty burst into the room, gun drawn. Zane followed, seeking out targets in the room, counting how many people there were. Five men, all spread through the room. Impossible for Ty and Zane to cover them all.
Thank God they were Ty’s friends, right?
Ty couldn’t remember a situation where he’d been more nervous knocking down a door.
Owen and Digger were sitting on one of the beds, staring at Ty and Zane like they were insane. Kelly was cross-legged on the other bed, papers spread out in front of him, and Nick was in an armchair in the corner, a glass in his hand.
Liam Bell was lounging against the balcony door, arms crossed, head cocked. Not a man had reacted to the intrusion. No one moved.
�
��Everybody, hands on your heads,” Zane ordered.
Ty’s shoulders were tense, his body a bowstring waiting to be plucked as his aim settled on Liam. If Liam twitched, he was dead.
Nick finally moved enough to take another sip from his glass.
“Hands!” Zane shouted at him.
Nick stared at him for a few seconds, then dropped the glass to the floor, spilling its contents. He put his hands up, palms out.
“Come on in,” Owen drawled. “No need to knock, complete open-door policy in this hotel.”
“Shut up,” Ty snarled. He jabbed his gun toward Liam. “What is he doing here?”
“Helping,” Liam answered.
Ty reached behind him, and Zane placed a plastic zip tie into his palm. He took Ty’s gun off him, holding it on Liam as Ty approached him.
“Turn around, hands on the glass,” Ty ordered.
Liam did as he was told without comment or complaint. Ty secured his wrists with the zip tie, shoving his face against the glass for good measure before he yanked him around and forced him to sit on the end of Kelly’s bed.
He hadn’t yet made eye contact with Nick, who was observing silently. Ty almost wished he could just look at the man; he felt like it might ease some of the tension. But he couldn’t make himself do it.
He pointed at Owen instead. “You lied to us.”
“I didn’t lie. I just . . . Yeah, I lied, whatever.” Owen unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and took a long drink. “I’m too tired to be creative.”
“Someone explain, now,” Zane said, handing Ty his gun and then looking at each man in turn.
They all shared glances, and then Kelly sighed and rustled some of the papers in front of him. “We were trying to decide if we had enough evidence of what Burns was doing to show you.”
Ty felt the blood draining from his face. He tore his eyes away from Liam to look at Nick, who met Ty’s eyes unflinchingly. Nick seemed as desperate to say something as Ty, but neither was able to articulate it. The silence stretched on.
Zane cleared his throat. “And?”
Kelly shook his head. “It’s enough for me. Maybe not for Ty.”
“Is there more?” Zane asked.
“Perhaps. But we have to hit two places at once,” Liam explained. “His home and his office. Irish and I couldn’t do it alone, or we’d already have it.”
“You don’t know which location it’s in? Or it’s in both?” Zane asked.
“The former. Possibly the latter. But once we hit one location, the other will be unreachable.”
Zane sat on the edge of the dresser beside the flat-screen television, crossing his arms and scowling. “Why do you need evidence about Burns? It’s sure as hell not to help Nick out.”
“That’s none of your bloody business,” Liam huffed.
Ty backhanded him so hard he almost rolled off the corner of the bed. He sprawled, kicking his leg out to keep his balance. No one moved to protest or help him.
Ty grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back up. “It’s our business now,” he snarled. “Why are you here?”
Liam sucked air between his teeth, the only response he seemed willing to offer.
Nick stood, still showing his hands to Zane. “Let him go,” he said quietly. “Ty, let him go.”
Ty’s grip loosened, and he stepped back.
Nick reached for the thick accordion file sitting by Kelly’s knee, and he handed it to Ty. He seemed to be moving with extreme care, trying to prove he wasn’t a threat. “Please, Six,” he said, his voice still calm.
But Ty knew him too well. He could hear the fear in Nick’s voice. The desperation and hope. He could hear the pleading undertone of an eighteen-year-old boy who didn’t understand why someone would be his friend unless they wanted something from him.
Ty lowered his head as the memory flashed through his mind, and he gasped for air when he realized tears were threatening.
“Give me five minutes,” Nick begged. “After that . . . you can do what you need to. With me, with him. We won’t fight you. I just . . . Please.”
Ty stared at him, his heart racing, his mind replaying what seemed like every moment of their lives together.
A stone-faced boy sitting on a bench at the bus depot with a set of bruised ribs and a black eye, ignoring the taunts of those around him.
A gentle, tentative smile that somehow always reached his eyes.
A hand on Ty’s shoulder while he told him his brother would want him to be strong right now and everything would be okay.
A hand grasping across the narrow expanse between their medical racks, covered in blood while he begged for Ty to keep his eyes open.
An iron grip around his forearm, pulling him out of the mud as he ordered him to keep going because they were making Recon together whether Ty liked it or not.
Hunched over in a room too small for them both, holding Ty’s head and shoulders in his lap and rocking for him because he knew Ty didn’t have the strength to rock himself that night.
Green eyes Ty had been able to find across any room, anywhere when he needed a back to put to his.
His best friend. His brother. A man he’d have lain across a grenade for, and who would have done the same for him. A man he loved with every ounce of his soul. And all that Nick was asking for was five minutes.
Ty’s chest tightened and twisted, and he took an involuntary step toward Nick with every intention of hugging him.
Nick flinched when Ty moved too quickly. He licked his lips like he’d always done when he was nervous, and he tried to pretend he hadn’t moved. But Ty had seen it.
Ty froze. How had it come to this? He stared at Nick for a second longer, his heart split into shards that made it hard to catch his breath.
The room was silent, waiting. This felt like a crossroads, and Ty was the only one who could decide which way to go.
“Ty?” Zane finally said, breaking Ty from his memories, reminding him to take a breath because he was getting light-headed.
“Okay,” Ty whispered.
Nick edged toward the bed, moving like he was trying to step away from a wild animal without scaring it. He sat on the bed next to Kelly, pulled several things out of the accordion folder, and laid them out. “This is where Liam and I have been the last two weeks, what we managed to steal from the NIA. These are the pieces they showed me,” he explained. The hunted look in his eyes was agonizing, and it was several seconds before Ty could move to take the contents of the file.
He gave Nick and then Liam both careful stares as he walked over to Zane and leaned on the dresser beside him. He opened the file so they could both read it.
“What are these?” Zane asked Nick.
Nick cleared his throat, then did it again after trying to speak and failing. “That piece is the paper trail of a hit Burns ordered.”
Zane waved a hand at it. “Is this where the whole thing starts?”
“No. It’s where Ty was brought in.”
Ty scowled at him. “It’s a hit he ordered me to carry out?”
“No,” Nick answered, sorrow engulfing his voice. “It’s a hit he ordered on a Special Agent James Hathaway.”
Ty’s mouth went dry. “What?”
“Hathaway,” Zane murmured as he scanned the documents. He turned to Ty. “Was that . . . wasn’t that your old partner?”
“Jimmy,” Ty croaked. “His name was Jimmy.”
A lot of the file was redacted, but Ty could make out the high points. Or rather, the low points. He realized his fingers were grazing over the old scar on his hip where he’d taken the bullet that had gone through him and lodged in Jimmy Hathaway.
“You almost died trying to save him,” Nick said to Ty, as if Ty might not remember it.
“You came down and stayed with me while I recovered.” Ty’s voice shook. “Spent two weeks trying to convince me to quit.”
“What else is there?” Zane asked, hard and professional. He had apparently realized Ty’s resolve
was nonexistent.
“No,” Ty said, shaking his head. “No, Jimmy’s death wasn’t a hit. That was a suspect we were after for . . .” He trailed off, clutching the file.
“For drug-trafficking?” Nick finished. “For the Vega cartel?”
“Yeah,” Ty breathed.
“On the next page, you’ll see that man’s accounts received a hefty bonus the day before Hathaway was killed in the line of duty,” Liam told Ty. He sounded almost apologetic. “Your drug trafficker was paid off by Burns. He used stolen cartel money.”
“Burns made it look like a cartel hit if anyone examined it too closely,” Nick added. They had either practiced this, or they’d spent enough time together that they could finish each other’s sentences now. Ty sort of hated both of them for it.
Liam was nodding, working to free his hands from the zip tie as if no one would notice.
“No one did, though,” Nick continued. “Because you killed the guy before he could talk. Case closed.”
“Why?” Ty asked.
“Burns had to free you up, bud,” Nick answered. “He needed you to be solo. He promised you you’d never have to have another partner, remember?”
Ty swallowed hard, glancing at Zane and back to the file. “This still doesn’t connect directly to Burns, though.”
“You’re right,” Nick said. He picked up another file and waved it.
Ty was rooted to the spot, so Zane moved to take the file. He opened it even as dread settled in Ty’s belly. If they really did have even shreds of evidence, Ty had no idea how he was going to handle the fallout.
“Those are wire transfers made in your name, Garrett,” Liam offered. “With the information you were gleaning in Miami. Burns was skimming money from cartel accounts, pushing it through an account he’d set up in your name in the Cayman Islands, and then transferring it to his own offshore accounts. I traced them to Switzerland, but lost the endgame to a Swiss stone wall. We’re working on it, but neither of us have the know-how to follow Burns’s trail. We’re missing information we need.”
“What information?” Zane asked.
“Access codes,” Liam answered.
“Zane’s name is in the trail?” Ty asked, voice going harsh.
