borrow mine,” he murmured, smiling.
Zane turned his head, letting his nose brush Ty’s cheek.
Ty closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the moment. “Come on,” he said after a few seconds of content silence. “Let’s go see the sights for a few hours. Pretend it’s real.”
Zane’s brow wrinkled. “Pretend what’s real?”
Ty slid his hand down Zane’s arm and linked their fingers again. “That I can hold your hand without worrying about being recognized,” he said with a smile. He tugged at Zane’s hand, wanting to get out of the shops and back onto the pier to see the water and the view.
Zane’s smile reappeared and he nodded. “Anytime you want.”
Ty gave him a melancholy smile, squeezing his hand. It was a shame they didn’t get to go out and hold hands like this at home. A crying shame. But they couldn’t risk being recognized and outed at work. As soon as they both retired, though, Ty intended to hold Zane’s hand everywhere they went.
“WHAT are you going to tell them?” Randall Jonas asked as Burns dialed the number for his man in Chicago.
“As little as possible,” Burns answered. He was silent as he waited for an answer, and when he spoke he was using some sort of code that Jonas didn’t begin trying to decipher. “Your father says hello,” Burns told his agent. It must have been some sort of activator.
Jonas watched him as he exchanged a few more seemingly mundane pleasantries; then he broke the code and just outright said the information he’d intended to pass on. “Consider your mark armed and extremely dangerous. He’s a federal informant who’s gone off the grid, and we need him here, in my office.”
Jonas frowned, confused by Burns’ methods. But then, Burns had never had regular methods to begin with.
“I don’t care how you do it, just get him here. In one piece. Don’t ‘yes, sir’ me, you little shit, just don’t get dead.” He hung up and looked at Jonas with a worried frown.
“Can your men really bring in Cross without any backup?” Jonas asked.
Burns pursed his lips. “Yes. I’d put these two against any of your spooks, any day of the week.”
Jonas raised an eyebrow, and he couldn’t help but smile at his old friend’s confidence. “Them’s fightin’ words.”
“Bring it, old man.”
Chapter 4
“WE SHOULD be getting close,” Zane said as the cab cut through the architectural jungle of downtown.
“How do you want to play it? Go in soft or heavy? Good cop, bad cop? Shoot first and ask questions later?” Ty asked with a hint of sarcastic amusement.
Zane shrugged. “Are you expecting trouble?” Out of long habit, he slid his hand into his new jacket to check his weapon.
“From this guy? Almost certainly,” Ty said. “Dick talked about him like he was Batman.”
“How so?”
“Long list of connections to the CIA, organized crime, a laundry list of arms dealers and mercs, foreign and domestic.”
“Why does Burns want him? And why us?”
Ty was silent for a moment. “I’ve learned not to ask those questions,” he said as he looked at Zane with a smile to mitigate the harshness of the words.
Zane nodded. He looked at Ty with warmth he probably shouldn’t have been feeling while officially on the job. Ty seemed closer than he had been just a moment ago, close enough for Zane to smell him, the unusual musk of sandalwood that was so unlike Ty and the more familiar combination of Tide, gun oil, leather, and sweat that turned him on like crazy. But Zane felt a pang of yearning for a whiff of Old Spice.
“I’m also expecting him to not actually be at this address. If he was this easy to find, he wouldn’t be Batman,” Ty said, drawing Zane out of his reverie.
“If he’s there, it would be novel for it to go so smoothly,” Zane said as the cab came to a stop in front of an old building converted into condos.
Ty checked his gun and got out as Zane paid the driver, who didn’t even blink at the weapons and nodded when Zane told
Zane turned his head, letting his nose brush Ty’s cheek.
Ty closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the moment. “Come on,” he said after a few seconds of content silence. “Let’s go see the sights for a few hours. Pretend it’s real.”
Zane’s brow wrinkled. “Pretend what’s real?”
Ty slid his hand down Zane’s arm and linked their fingers again. “That I can hold your hand without worrying about being recognized,” he said with a smile. He tugged at Zane’s hand, wanting to get out of the shops and back onto the pier to see the water and the view.
Zane’s smile reappeared and he nodded. “Anytime you want.”
Ty gave him a melancholy smile, squeezing his hand. It was a shame they didn’t get to go out and hold hands like this at home. A crying shame. But they couldn’t risk being recognized and outed at work. As soon as they both retired, though, Ty intended to hold Zane’s hand everywhere they went.
“WHAT are you going to tell them?” Randall Jonas asked as Burns dialed the number for his man in Chicago.
“As little as possible,” Burns answered. He was silent as he waited for an answer, and when he spoke he was using some sort of code that Jonas didn’t begin trying to decipher. “Your father says hello,” Burns told his agent. It must have been some sort of activator.
Jonas watched him as he exchanged a few more seemingly mundane pleasantries; then he broke the code and just outright said the information he’d intended to pass on. “Consider your mark armed and extremely dangerous. He’s a federal informant who’s gone off the grid, and we need him here, in my office.”
Jonas frowned, confused by Burns’ methods. But then, Burns had never had regular methods to begin with.
“I don’t care how you do it, just get him here. In one piece. Don’t ‘yes, sir’ me, you little shit, just don’t get dead.” He hung up and looked at Jonas with a worried frown.
“Can your men really bring in Cross without any backup?” Jonas asked.
Burns pursed his lips. “Yes. I’d put these two against any of your spooks, any day of the week.”
Jonas raised an eyebrow, and he couldn’t help but smile at his old friend’s confidence. “Them’s fightin’ words.”
“Bring it, old man.”
Chapter 4
“WE SHOULD be getting close,” Zane said as the cab cut through the architectural jungle of downtown.
“How do you want to play it? Go in soft or heavy? Good cop, bad cop? Shoot first and ask questions later?” Ty asked with a hint of sarcastic amusement.
Zane shrugged. “Are you expecting trouble?” Out of long habit, he slid his hand into his new jacket to check his weapon.
“From this guy? Almost certainly,” Ty said. “Dick talked about him like he was Batman.”
“How so?”
“Long list of connections to the CIA, organized crime, a laundry list of arms dealers and mercs, foreign and domestic.”
“Why does Burns want him? And why us?”
Ty was silent for a moment. “I’ve learned not to ask those questions,” he said as he looked at Zane with a smile to mitigate the harshness of the words.
Zane nodded. He looked at Ty with warmth he probably shouldn’t have been feeling while officially on the job. Ty seemed closer than he had been just a moment ago, close enough for Zane to smell him, the unusual musk of sandalwood that was so unlike Ty and the more familiar combination of Tide, gun oil, leather, and sweat that turned him on like crazy. But Zane felt a pang of yearning for a whiff of Old Spice.
“I’m also expecting him to not actually be at this address. If he was this easy to find, he wouldn’t be Batman,” Ty said, drawing Zane out of his reverie.
“If he’s there, it would be novel for it to go so smoothly,” Zane said as the cab came to a stop in front of an old building converted into condos.
Ty checked his gun and got out as Zane paid the driver, who didn’t even blink at the weapons and nodded when Zane told
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