Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(47)
Author: Abigail Roux

“You really worried about the bruises?” Ty asked as he looked up at Zane. “We can stick a needle in ’em and they’ll fade,” he offered seriously.

When Zane didn’t respond, Ty cocked his head and watched him with a raised eyebrow and a small frown. “You okay?” he asked neutrally.

Zane’s nostrils flared as he mulled over his thoughts, and he pushed away from the table again abruptly, suddenly antsy and needing some room.

He stalked over to the window, moving the drapes to look out on the city, keeping the ice on his wrist.

Ty watched him, still trying to figure out the sudden mood changes his new partner suffered. Maybe Zane didn’t drink anymore, but he’d definitely killed off some brain cells along the way. “Want me to leave?” Ty asked in the same neutral tone.

Forgetting about the dark window that would mirror his reflection, Zane closed his eyes as he grimaced like he was in pain. He cradled his wrist against the ice. If Ty left, he might be able to relax more. He just couldn’t get the image of that lean, muscled body out of his head. He might be able to get some sleep, to think without the frustration gnawing at him…after he got off, probably. Damn it. His escapade earlier hadn’t done anything but take the edge off. He shook his head in answer to Ty’s question, regardless.

“Good,” Ty responded seriously. “’Cause all my shit’s here now and I’m too damn lazy to move it. Why don’t you get some more sleep?” he suggested softly. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was witnessing the beginnings of a burnout. He’d seen plenty of them. Even had a few himself.

Zane took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” he said softly. He turned away from the window, closing the curtain before he crossed the room for the bathroom, intending to get rid of the ice. His hand was numb enough. He shut the door and sat down on the toilet, threw the towel and bag in the sink, and covered his face with both hands.

Fuck, Garrett, get hold of yourself, he thought morosely. His hard-as-nails partner was going to think he was falling apart. He craved the calm a cigarette would give him and briefly considered going out to get one and smoking it right there in the damn room.

Ty remained where he was, trying to decide on a course of action.

Finally, he got up slowly, pulled a clean pair of jeans on, then walked silently on bare feet to the bathroom door and knocked softly. “Hey, Garrett?” he called gently just before his voice turned sarcastic and teasing. “Do you need a hug?”

Stifling a laugh, Zane looked up at the door, raising an eyebrow.

Leave it to Ty to snap him out of a funk with five simple words. “Fuck you, Grady,” he answered, amusement clear in his voice. He pushed himself up and turned on the water at the sink to fill up a glass.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Ty continued in a mockingly sincere voice, plastered against the door like a parody of an overeager psychologist, trying to talk someone off a ledge. “You can cry if you need to!”

Zane swallowed the water and rolled his eyes. “You’re an ass, you know that?” But he had to admit; it was breaking the shitty mood and distracting him from the curl of arousal in his gut. Sort of.

“It won’t make you any less of a man!” Ty insisted as he called through the door. “Much…well, it will, but….”

Snorting, Zane set down the glass. “Well, I guess I should feel honored you consider me a man to start with,” he said wryly as he looked at himself in the mirror.

“You’re definitely more like one now than you were in Burns’

office,” Ty offered, his voice serious once more as he leaned against the door.

“I’ll take credit for that.”

Zane raised a brow. Typical Grady ego. He looked in the mirror again. It had been a while since he’d had two days of beard. He looked 138

slightly rakish, with the dark clothes and the whiskers … and the growing bruise. “Don’t go for the clean-cut professional look, do you?” he asked as he grabbed a washcloth.

“Doesn’t suit you,” Ty responded carefully as he realized the territory he’d stumbled into again. He didn’t want to think about what did or didn’t suit Zane. Ty had already crossed a mental line where his partner was concerned.

Turning on the water long enough to wet down the cloth, Zane sighed and ran it carefully over the back of his neck as he shut off the faucet, then wiped carefully on his upper lip to get the dried blood off. “Yeah, I know,” he said, a hint of resignation in his voice.

“I could help, you know,” Ty offered, hearing the water and guessing that Zane was probably messing with his wounds again. He leaned more against the door, forcibly relaxing himself. He desperately needed to change the subject, for his own sanity if nothing else.

It took Zane a long moment to decide what Ty was talking about.

With a sigh, he decided Ty probably wasn’t offering to help him with his

“manhood.” Tossing down the rag, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and turned to look at his back. Parts of it didn’t look great. There were new scrapes and his wrist and chin were both killing him. He could certainly blame his crankiness on that; it was Ty’s fault, after all. He leaned over and pulled the door open.

Ty nearly fell into the bathroom as the door collapsed beneath his shoulder without warning. Reacting instinctively, Zane slid his arms around Ty and caught him up against his chest, stopping his potential sideways pitch.

Ty tried not to grab him, knowing Zane’s entire back was sore and tender, but it was either that or hit the marble floor. And he really didn’t want to hit the floor again tonight. Considering he’d been ready to kick the living shit out of the other man earlier, he didn’t feel all too guilty about it.

He offered a grunted curse as he wrapped an arm around Zane’s neck and flailed to try to stay upright. He thought he would have been able to keep his feet if Zane hadn’t grabbed him and tried to help. As it was, he was pulled off balance and practically cuddled as he struggled to get away.

“I’ve got you,” Zane said as he pulled Ty against him, one arm encircling his waist and holding tight, easily supporting the other man’s weight until Ty could find his feet.

Ty’s only response was stunned silence. He looked up and met Zane’s eyes as they stayed locked in the clumsy embrace. “Shit,” he finally muttered.

Zane’s eyes widened as his gut reacted to the proximity, and he stopped breathing when Ty didn’t immediately pull back. It registered how Ty felt against him, somehow fitting perfectly against his slightly taller and broader frame—just like before. And his body reacted again. Seconds passed, and he couldn’t look away. Oh, he was so going to get the shit beat out of him for this. Again.