Touch & Geaux (Cut & Run, #7)

by Abigail Roux

  Zane could feel Ty’s heart pounding, his breaths growing more difficult, his hard muscles working to free himself. Zane pressed down to keep him from getting loose and kissed him, hard and messy, forcing his tongue into Ty’s mouth and not giving him a chance to say otherwise.

  Ty fought his grip, bucking his hips. Zane was growing harder with every struggle. Just like the first time they’d fought in an alley in New York City and then fucked all night long, the violence fueled him. He thrust down, grinding his cock against Ty. Ty moaned into his mouth, but he still tried to pull his hands from Zane’s grasp.

  Zane let go of one wrist and grabbed a handful of Ty’s hair instead, yanked Ty’s head to the side, and bit at his neck. He let Ty’s other wrist go and reached for his shirt, ripping it at the neck so he could taste the sweat along Ty’s collarbone.

  Ty’s breathing was harsh and labored. He twisted, and his forearm caught Zane in the cheek. Zane grabbed his hand and yanked Ty’s arm across his body, shoving it to the bed and pinning him. Ty tried to twist out of it, but Zane was too heavy.

  “Asshole!” Ty snarled.

  “I know you can throw me off,” Zane grunted. “Go ahead, Ty. Do it.”

  Ty’s eyes narrowed. His breaths were gusting across Zane’s face. He didn’t make a move to break Zane’s grip, though.

  Zane released his hand to see if Ty would struggle more. When he felt Ty’s body relaxing under him, he kissed him again, pushing himself between Ty’s legs, shoving his tongue between those sinful lips. He bit at Ty’s lower lip. Bit hard.

  Ty’s fingers dragged down his shoulder and he let Ty’s lip go. He thrust again, his cock growing painfully hard inside his jeans. He reached between their bodies to loosen his belt and pull the zipper, then pushed his jeans and boxers down.

  Ty’s eyes were dark and unreadable. “I thought we were done.”

  Zane smiled slowly. “As soon as you know what it feels like to be used. Then we’re fucking done.”

  He grabbed Ty’s shirt to rip it the rest of the way. Ty swatted at his fingers, but Zane knocked his hand away and instead reached to pull the straps on both his wrist sheaths. He tossed the knives away and hovered over Ty, pressing their bodies together.

  “Where’s your fucking kit?”

  Ty licked his lips. “By the door.”

  Zane pushed off him and moved to rummage through Ty’s toiletry bag. He finally dumped everything on the floor. Toothpaste and shaving cream and several EpiPens went rolling across the floor. Zane grabbed up the lubricant, but he stopped when he saw a small black jewelry box at his foot.

  He picked it up and straightened. Ty had tossed his torn shirt to the floor and was shoving his pants to kick them off, his movements jerky and irritated.

  “You don’t have to order me around, you know,” Ty told him. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m still yours.”

  Zane huffed, his stomach tumbling at Ty’s words. The anger ebbed as he held the box up for Ty to see. “What is this?”

  Zane watched sadness roll over Ty’s face. “It was for you.”

  Zane was breathing hard, trying to fight the veil of whiskey to see through to the only man he’d thought he would ever love. Without asking for permission, he flipped the box open.

  Inside was a rectangular silver token. A rough anchor had been etched into the face of it. Zane picked it up and dropped the box to the floor. He could feel something on the other side, but his eyes were fixed to the anchor.

  “I had my ring from the cruise ship job melted down for it. It’s a sobriety token.”

  Zane looked up. Ty was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, eyes on the floor.

  “You told me one time that . . . I was your compass. I gave you direction when you were lost,” Ty said, nearly choking on the words. He glanced up, eyes reflecting like liquid in the low light. “Well, you were my anchor. You were something solid for me to hold onto. I wanted you to remember that.”

  Zane stared at him for a solid minute, trying to feel something beyond the warmth of the whiskey, beyond the reach of the anger. He had convinced himself the Ty Grady he knew wasn’t the real one.

  But what if it was? What if Zane was the only one who’d seen the real man beneath all those layers?

  He turned the token over in his hand. “I believe in you” was etched on the other side. He balled it in his fist and tossed it at the door with a mournful shout.

  “You son of a bitch!” he shouted, stalking toward Ty. “I trusted you!”

  Ty stood to meet the assault. Zane grabbed him and kissed him brutally, digging his fingers into Ty’s hair, slamming him against the wall beside the bed. A moment later he shoved Ty onto the bed and climbed over him, continuing the kiss in all its angry glory.

  “Zane,” Ty said, breathless. Whether it was from the weight on top of him or the weight of his emotions, Zane didn’t know and didn’t care.

  “Shut up, Ty. Don’t fucking say my name.” He reached between them, taking Ty in hand and squeezing. Ty gasped and closed his eyes. It made it easier for Zane, not being forced to look into Ty’s eyes.

  He filled his palm with lube and stroked himself, using his other hand to tug at Ty’s thigh. He leaned over him, biting at his lip, yanking his leg higher, thrusting his hips, forcing Ty to lift his other leg and let Zane settle on top of him. Ty’s entire body was trembling.

  “For once in your life,” he ground out against Ty’s lips. “Be something honest for once in your life.”

  He pushed the head of his cock against Ty, waiting for the gasp he knew was coming. The gust of air came against his lips, the same one Ty always seemed to let out when Zane first entered him. Zane bit down on Ty’s lip to turn that gasp into one of pain, then shoved harder, breaching, pushing past tight muscles.

  He’d forgotten what it felt like to delve into the warmth of someone else when all he felt was the cold calm of the alcohol and the bite of unchecked anger. God, it was so good.

  He gripped Ty’s hair to hold him still beneath Zane’s weight as he inched in. It was agonizing to go so slowly when all he wanted was to hear Ty cry out for mercy, to fuck him until he could feel nothing but the simplicity of emptying himself deep inside someone else, emptying all the pain and anger into someone who was begging for more.

  He pushed until he was completely sheathed, until Ty was writhing beneath him, trembling against him. Ty’s breath shivered over Zane’s lips.

  “Come on, then, Garrett,” Ty whispered. “You want me to feel used?”

  “Yes,” Zane hissed. “I want you to hurt like I do.”

  “Then do it.”

  Zane smacked his hand over Ty’s mouth. He pulled out and forced himself in again, lingering long enough to appreciate the slow slide of his cock as he delved deep, to feel Ty’s body jerk beneath his. Ty gasped against his hand. His fingernails raked down Zane’s back. Zane reached under Ty’s hips and pulled him off the bed, shoving deeper, forcing Ty to contort.

  Ty called out, the sound muffled by Zane’s hand.

  Zane started up a brutal rhythm, holding Ty down, the only sounds he heard were muffled and incoherent. His hips moved faster, harder, anger and anguish driving him, seeking pleasure that only his body registered and his mind refused to let him feel. He buried his face against Ty’s chest, pushing harder, finally letting his hand fall away from Ty’s mouth so he could lift Ty’s hips higher.

  Ty gasped his name. It was a pleading sound, filled with the same anguish Zane felt in every fiber of his being. Zane smacked his palm over Ty’s mouth again.

  “Don’t you say it,” he growled. “Don’t you dare say it.”

  Ty’s hands grasped at his back, dragging, clawing at him. His body writhed under Zane’s as Zane came inside him. As Zane’s movements slowed, his world came crashing back to him, everything black and white, everything made crystal clear and magnified to a pinpoint by the whiskey coursing through him. He moved his hand, and Ty gasped for air.

  Zane pulled out of
him, but he kissed him again, running his fingers down Ty’s body to grip his cock. He was growing harder as Zane handled him, his moans vibrating against Zane’s lips.

  “You need to get off?” Zane asked, his voice surprisingly hoarse. Ty gasped. “Say it, say the words.”

  “Garrett,” Ty tried.

  Zane held him down and stroked him, riding out the rhythm of Ty’s body seeking release. “Tell me what I want to hear, Grady.”

  Ty gripped Zane’s shoulders, pushing his cock into Zane’s hand. “I need you,” he gasped.

  The words tore through Zane with the precision of a scalpel. He kissed Ty greedily one last time, pumping him until Ty’s entire body trembled with impending release. Then he let go and backed away from the bed, leaving Ty on the precipice without any stimulation to push him over. He nodded toward the door as he met Ty’s eyes. “Go on. I’m betting Nick’s fucking waiting for you with a nice warm bed.”

  Zane woke with a splitting headache, cotton in his mouth, and a back that burned like he’d been dragged across gravel. He sat up carefully, waiting to see if his stomach would rebel. His head pounded, but thankfully nothing else protested.

  He looked around the room with a growing frown. He didn’t remember getting into bed. He didn’t remember falling asleep. Pages and pages of old books were plastered to the walls of his room. The same room Ty had been in. The bed beside him was cold and obviously hadn’t been slept in. His clothes were neatly folded and piled on the table, sitting beside a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass. Zane stared at the glass, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach finally making him nauseous.

  The night came back to him in a jumble of words and smells, of demanding kisses and rough sex. The scratches on his back were from Ty. He remembered shouting at him. Telling him they were done. He remembered taking a swing at him. Had he thrown a chair at him? Oh Jesus, what else had he done? He knew he could be violent when he was drunk and angry. His only comfort was knowing Ty would have fought back, and from the bruise he could feel on his face, Ty had done just that.

  He carefully got out of bed and shuffled to the table for his clothes. The glass wasn’t empty after all. It was full of water, and two pills sat beside it. Zane’s stomach lurched again. Ty had left ibuprofen for the hangover he knew Zane would have.

  “Goddamn you, Ty.”

  He got dressed quickly, downed the pills, and very carefully avoided making eye contact with the label of that bottle. He could hear the murmur of voices downstairs, and he hustled to join them.

  He stopped short at the head of the steps. He could hear Ava speaking, but she was speaking over the murmur of male voices. She wasn’t involved in the conversation the others were having. She sounded like she was on the phone. He strained to hear what she was saying, but he couldn’t make out the words. She was speaking in hushed tones, and something about it pinged Zane’s alarms. He searched all over the hallway, trying to figure out where her voice was coming from. He finally found a small air vent in the ceiling. Was she upstairs? Or was she down? Was there even an upstairs?

  Zane waited a few more seconds, trying to make out anything she was saying. The conversation had stopped, though. Zane ran a hand through his messy hair and took a deep breath, trying to talk himself into going downstairs.

  Flashes of last night were coming to him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to face Ty after what he’d said and done.

  “We have to go on the offensive here,” Nick said as Zane made his way down the steps. “It’s the only thing they won’t expect.”

  “How?” Owen asked.

  “Ambush them,” Ty said. His low growl sent shivers up Zane’s spine. “Set up a meet with bait. Scout out a meeting place, take them out when they show themselves.”

  “Just like that?” Kelly asked.

  “Just like that.”

  Zane moved around the table to one of the empty chairs. He sat opposite Ty and crossed his arms. Everyone was silent and tense, glancing at Zane as if they expected him to blow up like he had last night. Ty narrowed his eyes at him. Zane had to avert his gaze, examining the tabletop instead. In the periphery, he could see the remains of the barstool and table he had destroyed, neatly swept into a corner.

  If Zane had to guess, Ty had stayed up all night cleaning up the mess.

  Digger finally grunted to break the silence. “That’s all great, in theory. But how do we contact them?”

  Ty tore his attention away from Zane and gestured at Liam. “Can you get in touch with them?”

  Liam gave a curt nod. “Sure, Grady. I’ll just call them up and explain to them the situation. That I fucked off on their job because I found a pissed off Recon team instead of one easy target. And then I’ll ask them what hotel they’re staying at. Just for shits and giggles. It’s flawless.”

  “All right,” Ty grunted.

  “Flawless, I say.”

  “All right! Do you know how to get in touch with them or not?”

  “You’ll get yourselves killed.”

  “Do you really care if we do?” Nick asked.

  “If you’re going to bugger off and get yourselves killed, it might as well be me doing it so I can collect the bounties.”

  Zane snorted. “Maybe if you’d help us, we wouldn’t be as likely to die.”

  “You’re pretty, Garrett, but my heart ain’t that soft. As soon as you lot are gone, I’m out the door.”

  “Always the hero,” Ty muttered.

  Ty and Liam shared a hateful glance before Ty pushed away from the table and stood.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Liam said, loud enough for his words to be aimed at Ty. “You want to call up the crew who wants you dead, tell them you’re the man they’re looking for, and then lure them into a kill zone?”

  Ty met Liam’s eyes. Then he sought out Zane for his opinion. Zane stared at him, feeling sick. Ty had looked to him still—not his former second-in-command, not one of the men he’d known and worked with for decades. Zane’s mouth was too dry to even swallow.

  “Yeah,” Ty finally said.

  “They think it’s one man they’re after. No way they’d expect six,” Nick added.

  “I have a bunch of ear buds, a few other things,” Digger said. “Sniper rifle, a couple smoke canisters, Kevlar vest.”

  Kelly leaned forward. “A Kevlar vest?”

  Digger nodded.

  “You travel with full assault gear?” Ty asked.

  “You don’t?”

  Everyone stared at him. Ty began to massage the bridge of his nose.

  Liam stood and smoothed his hands over the front of his shirt, then walked away. “You’re all criminally insane.”

  Nick rolled his head from side to side, working out the kinks. Then he rapped his knuckles on the table to draw everyone’s attention. “If we’re going to do this, we need to know how many they have and find a location good for the meet. And we need to do it fast. This place won’t be safe for much longer.”

  Zane finally tore his eyes away from Ty. “Taking care of the cartel won’t get us out of New Orleans any easier. It’s the police we should really be worried about.”

  “What do you suggest?” Kelly asked.

  “Call the local Bureau office. Tell them what’s going on. Get backup. Get the cops off our asses. Make this something official instead of . . .” He waved at Digger. “Criminally insane.”

  “I’ll lose my job,” Ty said. He was pacing, head down and arms crossed.

  Nick craned his head. “What? Why?”

  “I’m not supposed to be here. I could compromise half a dozen cases just by showing my face.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you say something before you came down here?”

  “You told me you were in jail!”

  Nick made a disgusted noise. He leaned his elbows on the table and began to massage his temples.

  “Call Burns, he’ll get you out of it,” Zane said, surprised by the bitter sarcasm that came out.

  Ty stared at
him for a long moment, looking wounded, before he began to pace again. Zane forced himself to meet his eyes.

  He was ashamed to admit he still wanted to see Ty burn. He’d hoped Ty would come at him again last night, that they’d go down swinging at each other. But he knew deep down that Ty wasn’t that type of man. He wasn’t going to chase Zane, or beg and plead with him. He wasn’t going to hover over him and swat the drink from his hand every time he grasped it. He would let Zane walk away, he would let Zane self-destruct, he would internalize anything he was feeling, and become that same man he’d been the day they met. A hard, sarcastic shell. Zane could already see him building up those layers, and he hated Ty for it.

  “So what’ll it be, lads?” Liam asked. He winked at Zane.

  Kelly and Digger both craned their heads to look at Ty as he paced. Owen was resting his head on the table.

  Ty had his back to them, his head down. He really only had two choices. Get himself fired to keep everyone safe, or risk their lives, and a murder rap, to take down the cartel heavies.

  “Hey, Six?” Digger said quietly.

  “I’m not your goddamned Six anymore,” Ty grunted. He began to pace again. “Call the Bureau,” he finally said, his voice grim.

  “Ty,” Nick said carefully.

  “My job or your lives? There’s no choice there.” Ty met Zane’s eyes across the room. “Make the call. Tell them you’re bringing in a Confidential Informant. That’s what I was supposed to be if my cover was ever blown. Use the name Tyler Beaumont; that’ll ping any dirty Feds, so we’ll go in expecting a trap.”

  Zane didn’t move. His heart was sinking and it was too painful to move right now, to look away from Ty’s eyes. If Ty lost his job, what would they have between them? “You’re willing to give it up?”

  “It’s not about being willing anymore, Garrett,” Ty snarled. “Make the fucking call.”

  The curtain behind the bar wavered, and Ava pushed past it to lunge into the room. “They’re coming!” she hissed. “My daddy and his boys. They’re coming here. You have to leave!”