Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(35)
Author: Abigail Roux

“Yes, I’ve been keeping close tabs on all your personal items, Special Agent Garrett,” Ty answered officiously, his voice comically muffled by the pillow.

“Thank you, Special Agent Grady, I appreciate that,” Zane answered before pushing away the duffel and running his fingers through his hair instead. He glanced back at Ty and tilted his head. “How can you breathe like that?”

“Like what?” Ty asked from under the pillow. “Breathing and thinking at the same time, while difficult to master, comes pretty natural after you’ve practiced for a while. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

Zane rolled his eyes. “At least I think with my head and not my ass,”

he muttered as he buttoned his jeans and zipped up.

“Your ass is more fun to look at,” Ty shot back from under the pillow.

Stopping in place, Zane boggled at the pillow. “You did not just say you’ve looked at my ass.” Dear God. The tease of that was f**king inflammatory. He didn’t need this kind of torture.

“You show it often enough,” Ty countered in a sly tone, still muffled.

“You don’t mean that literally,” Zane muttered as he started stacking folders on the table, trying to make room for food.

Ty finally pulled his head out from under the pillow and rose up onto his elbows to look over his shoulder at Zane. “I mean everything I say literally. Literally,” he said with wry emphasis.

Zane sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand. “I think you do it deliberately,” he grumbled. “Say whatever you can think of to drive me up the f**king wall.” And Lord, his imagination was now in overdrive. Zane moved his hand, turned, and looked at Ty with narrowed eyes. “And how am I showing off my ass, pray tell?”

“You’re breathing,” Ty said as he laid his head back down.

Zane sighed, whether in relief or exasperation, he didn’t want to have to figure out. Ty was just razzing him. A cigarette was starting to sound appealing, and the knock at the door was a godsend.

Ty peered out from under his pillow and watched Zane go to answer the door. “Now you’re wondering if I’m looking at your ass, aren’t you?” he teased.

Zane flipped him the bird as he passed by, gun in the other hand.

“Mm hmm,” Ty murmured with a self-satisfied grin.

After a minimum of fuss, Zane carried the room service tray back into the room, his gun shoved into the back of his jeans. And damn it, if Ty wasn’t right, the smug bastard. As soon as he walked past him, he wondered if he was feeling Ty’s eyes on his back or his ass.

“It’s not you, it’s the food,” Ty offered as if he was reading Zane’s mind.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Zane drawled, uncovering the plates.

“You know it,” Ty drawled as he stretched again. “Give me food, bitch,” he ordered with relish.

Zane snorted. “I ought to make you get off your lazy ass and get it yourself. But you were kind enough to help me out, so….” He carried Ty’s plate and drink over and set them on the nightstand between the beds.

“Thank you,” Ty said primly as he sat up and placed a pillow in his lap to serve as a tray.

Zane sketched a bow. “I hope it’s to your satisfaction, your majesty,”

he drawled before going back to his own food and sitting at the table.

“I’m glad to see you’re so easy to train,” Ty responded happily.

Raising a brow, Zane chucked a fry at him, hitting him in the chest.

“Hey! A little respect for the cleaning ladies, huh?” Ty chided.

Zane grinned and threw another one, this time landing it on Ty’s plate. He held up both arms in a touchdown sign. “You know, I’m starting to get this whole bug-the-hell-out-of- somebody thing.”

“You’re a natural,” Ty responded flatly as he stared at the vagrant fry in distaste.

Zane sighed and shook his head, going back to his food. It seemed Ty would only tolerate so much of his own medicine. A moment later a fry hit him in the nose and bounced off into his lap. Zane’s jaw dropped, but he grinned before plucking the fry up from his thigh and popping it in his mouth.

“Mm hmm,” Ty hummed again with a smirk from his side of the room.

Considering the other man as he took a bite of his burger, Zane wondered if this Ty was more like his normal self. He seemed younger right now, not as jaded. “What’s your story?” he asked impulsively.

“Which one?” Ty asked between bites, with a c**k of his head.

“The one about why you have a chip on your shoulder the size of Manhattan?” Zane asked mildly. “About why when you sleep you look about five years younger than me, and when you’re awake and pissed off you look five older.”

Ty cocked an eyebrow. “You were watching me while I slept?” he asked incredulously.

“You watched me,” Zane pointed out. “And don’t avoid the question.”

“I wasn’t,” Ty protested in amusement. “That’s just … really f**king weird, man,” he observed with a snicker. “And I told you my story. I was Marine Force Recon. After the last mission we were supposed to run went tits up, they deemed all of us stricken with PTSD. We were all discharged with big-ass pensions before we could get upset. Full honors. It was all complete bullshit, and everyone knew it, but we were all tired and slightly traumatized from the bureaucracy of it all,” he said bitterly. “They needed to plant us all somewhere nice and safe and keep us from Idle Hands Syndrome, know what I mean? Me, I got sent to Quantico as a ‘civilian aid’ sort of thing until Burns found me and convinced me the Bureau might be entertaining. I was a Marine, in it for the long haul, and I miss it. But that’s life and here I am. No chip,” he insisted with a shake of his head.

“So why be such a bullshit artist? Amusement factor? Mask to avoid questions? You’re just a prick at heart?” Zane asked after another bite.

“All of the above,” Ty answered readily through a mouthful of food, grinning and chewing as he watched Zane.

Nodding, Zane took a few more bites. “You know, when I was f**ked up, I got real familiar with medical regulations and treatment regimens. Did you know they won’t clear agents for field work if they’re being treated for depression or mood disorders?”

“Yep,” Ty answered succinctly.

“Post-traumatic stress disorder falls into that category. If it was in your file as a reason for discharge, you’d have been parked at a desk and never let out into public,” Zane commented neutrally.