Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(13)
Author: Abigail Roux

Zane straightened the length of strap and pulled Ty’s jacket back down to cover it. “Let’s go. I could eat a whale,” he said absently, already warring within himself. Had he truly wanted to telegraph a message? Or had he simply taken advantage of the chance to touch the hard muscles he’d been seeing? Danger zone, Garrett.

Ty cleared his throat and followed silently. Not many people had the nerve to step into his reach and touch him without his permission or some sort of forewarning. Either Zane really didn’t give a shit—which was contrary to his demeanor and actions—or he had no clue how dangerous Ty really was.

The third option was the most frightening; that he knew what Ty could do to him and he wasn’t concerned. Either way, it left Ty slightly unsettled as they went in search of food.

THEIR hotel was located just a block or two from Little Italy, and they had no trouble finding a restaurant there, which seemed to suit Ty just fine. Zane followed along as they were led to the table, eyeing the bar across the room with an internal sigh. He sat down at the table and immediately opened the menu.

Ty, however, left the menu in front of him and turned to the waitress with a grin. He went about ordering his Guinness and dinner with a series of well-honed innuendo and rakish grins that had the girl giggling at him as she moved away.

Zane ignored what was becoming his partner’s customary behavior.

Sitting back, he reflected that maybe they should have kept looking for a different restaurant. One with televisions. Here, there was nothing to do but look at each other.

As he sat, Ty was observing the other patrons in the restaurant idly, noticing things about them that most people didn’t notice. His training forced him to take in who looked anxious, who seemed to be waiting for someone, who was wearing a coat too large for them that might conceal a weapon, who looked out of place. The list went on and on. “So,” he huffed as he looked back at Zane. “What now?”

“As opposed to what then?” Zane said, leaning back in his chair.

“You had the plan, remember?”

“You hijacked it with dinner,” Ty pointed out as the little waitress came back and slid Ty’s drink onto the table. “Thank you, darlin’,” he drawled as she passed by. He took one long draw from the bottle, then glanced around and placed his palm flat on the opening of the bottle before turning it upside down. He patted himself down with the beer like someone would have done with a bottle of cologne, taking another gulp every now and then as he smeared some on his neck and chest and finally rubbed his hands together and patted down his scruffy face.

Zane just watched, stirring lemon into his tea, shaking his head.

“That’s a waste of good beer. You should have ordered some shit like Bud Light.”

“Do I look like I drink Bud Light?” Ty sneered before downing what was left of the beer. He raised his hand and called over the waitress again.

“You think the girls are going to be able to tell the difference?”

“You underestimate their prowess,” Ty laughed as he leaned back and stretched his hands over his head. The waitress sidled over and Ty smiled at her. “Bring my irritating friend here a Bud Light, would you, sweetheart?”

She repressed a snort and gave Zane a nod before turning away again.

“No,” Zane said sharply, voice quite firm. “That’s not necessary.”

She turned around and raised her eyebrows in question. Ty pursed his lips and then smiled, shaking his head and gesturing for her to bring it anyway.

“Your irritating friend has no interest in a beer, Grady,” Zane ground out.

“It’s not to drink,” Ty responded with an easy smile.

Zane relaxed slightly, though he was still frowning. “Then what do you plan to do with it?” he asked suspiciously. Ty merely waved a hand at himself in answer. Zane rolled his eyes before he could stop himself and really wished Ty had waited until after dinner to “freshen up.” It would be bad enough walking around with him without smelling it all through dinner, too.

The waitress brought the ordered beer and smiled at Ty flirtatiously as she passed by. Zane watched her thoughtfully and wondered if Ty really was charming or if he was just good-looking enough to pull it off. Either way, it irritated Zane already.

Ty slid the bottle across the table and waved a hand. “You can wait

’til after we eat, if you like,” he offered charitably.

Eyes narrowing, Zane looked at Ty, then the bottle, then back at Ty.

“Oh, hell no. One of us smelling like a drunk is plenty.”

Ty merely shrugged. The man wasn’t going with him without playing the part. Whether he did it voluntarily was not Ty’s concern. It might even be fun to douse him down, Ty pondered with a smile.

“So,” he leered as he leaned his elbows on the table again. “Tell me about your hookers. You don’t seem the type,” he said with a pointed look at the wedding band on Zane’s finger.

Zane willfully ignored the beer bottle. “And what is my type?” he asked in a clipped voice, his left hand curling into a loose fist before he pulled it off the table and settled it out of sight, hiding the ring. He wondered how many new insults Ty could come up with. It really was a game to him, apparently, and it made it more difficult for Zane to maintain his stony reserve.

Ty snorted in response. “Yeah, okay,” he responded in amusement. “I guess you would need to pay someone to tolerate you.”

Letting the insult pass, for more reasons than the truth of it, Zane prodded back instead. “I’m sure you have a very well-formed and detailed profile ready to throw out there, proving how lacking I am.”

Ty’s eyebrow rose and he leaned forward. “Have you read my file?”

he inquired curiously.

“In what time, since we’ve been together practically the entire past thirty-six hours?” Zane asked sarcastically. “That’s not to say I didn’t think about having it pulled.”

Ty narrowed his eyes, then let it go as a coincidence. “Profile of you, huh?” he drawled with a smirk instead.

“Despite your insistence on being an utter ass**le, you are undeniably educated and highly trained,” Zane said, drawing on the minute clues and data he’d been gathering about Ty to make a strong guess. Number-crunching, as it were. “So, I’m betting you’ve assessed for threat, judged for education, gauged strengths and weaknesses … yes. A profile.”

“Your logic is irrefutable,” Ty complimented, still grinning. “I do have one,” he answered with a matter-of-fact nod. “I’m still waiting for you to change it.”