Cut & Run (Cut & Run #1)(68)
Author: Abigail Roux

“Fine. You’ve eaten enough if you want to lie down,” Zane said in a long-suffering tone. He dropped his bag of chips on the table and stood up.

“Your cake will just have to wait until later.”

Ty put his half-eaten fry down and glared across the table at him.

“Why?” he asked as another shiver ran through him.

Zane frowned. “You said you were tired. Eat your cake now, if you want. I figured once I finally let up on you, you’d be in that bed in a shot. The 198

doctor said an hour or two, and…,” he looked at his watch. “It’s two-ten now.

So, bed. Or I could resume where I left off,” he said, eyes flaring with heat as he smirked.

Ty glared at him for another moment before pushing out of his seat unsteadily. “I’m going to bed,” he mumbled.

Zane hovered close by as Ty walked into the bedroom and sat on the bed, and then he turned off the lights, throwing the room into quiet and shadow.

“You’re going to stay, right?” Ty asked softly, peering at Zane through the dim.

Zane sat down next to him on the bed. “Of course I am,” he said quietly, smoothing Ty’s short hair back from his face.

Ty fought the light-headed heaviness that he was unaccustomed to, and he turned his head slowly to narrow his eyes at Zane. He had Zane pegged as the type who would be out the door to do something dangerous the moment he was asleep, just to prove that he could. But just then, there was nothing Ty could do about it and he was f**king tired. He rubbed his eyes and turned away, crawling slowly up the bed and sliding under the covers as he laid his head carefully on the pillow.

Zane pulled up the sheet, face turning stony. He knew well and good that Ty would have an absolute shit fit when he figured out what Zane had done. But he’d done what he felt was right. With that kind of knock on the head, Ty absolutely had to rest, and Zane felt that he wouldn’t until he absolutely collapsed no matter how much he begged to sleep. Zane couldn’t have that—not after today. They both needed to be at the top of their game, because the stakes had just gotten a lot higher. He could trust Ty to stay in bed for at least a few hours now, and he could go and retrieve their things while the man slept.

“Don’t you leave,” Ty murmured in warning as he fought back the sleep.

Zane sighed, reconsidering. He could wait to go back to the Holiday Inn. Or he could go now, an action that would surely incense his partner beyond any hope of them even being civil to each other again. “Why are you so worried?” he asked spur of the moment. “I can handle myself.”

“Because he’s on us,” Ty slurred in answer. “He’s ahead of us.”

Zane nodded seriously, though his voice was light. “And here I thought you hated me.”

“I do,” Ty murmured as his eyes closed involuntarily. Zane stared down at him for a long time before making his decision. He stood up, gave Ty one last glance, and left the bedroom.

he low whir of the air conditioner was the only sound in the well-soundproofed room. There were no crying babies or shouting couples T to be heard. The lights had all been turned out, and the drapes were closed against the morning sunlight, allowing only the faintest light to appear around the corners of the heavy fabric. Two bodies sprawled on the king-size bed.

Ty groaned softly and rolled over, burying his head under his pillow to drown out the filtered light. He jerked and pulled his head back with a gasp of pain as the pillow hit the throbbing knot on the back of his head. Suddenly hyper-alert, he pushed up onto his elbows and looked around the room in a near panic, trying to remember where he was.

Eyes blinking open as the bed tossed, Zane pushed himself up slightly. “Ty, it’s okay,” he said sleepily. “We’re at the hotel.”

“Fuck,” Ty groaned as his head whirled unpleasantly. He pushed up onto his hands and knees and closed his eyes, then began crawling clumsily to the edge of the bed.

Zane sat up to watch him move. He hoped the other man didn’t fall off the edge of the bed and hit his head again. Zane winced at the thought. But Ty made it off the bed cleanly and staggered into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he was retching violently.

Zane sighed and rubbed his face. He was screwed. With the concussion, Ty might have been sick like that. But in Zane’s experience it didn’t hit you so suddenly. Unless he was sensitive to drugs. Shit. And Zane had given him a lot. He dragged himself up and pulled on his jeans. This wasn’t going to be pretty; he could feel it in his bones.

Ty was on his knees on the expensive tile, head hanging as he panted for breath. As soon as he’d moved quickly after waking so suddenly his stomach had turned, and he’d known he was going to lose last night’s miniscule dinner. As he slumped miserably in front of the toilet, he knew that most likely there was more to this than the concussion. Zane had given him something—probably something to get him to sleep so he could go off on his own and do God knew what. His head hanging in the toilet this morning pretty much confirmed that. Ty had never handled any sort of chemicals well.

Even too much Tylenol had a tendency to make him queasy.

As soon as he was sure he wouldn’t fall over, he pulled himself to his feet and grabbed the sink counter, holding onto it as he splashed his face with water.

In the outer room, Zane’s face was grim. They had a lot to do today, including finding out who had tried to kill them. Again. Deciding not to wait, he started getting dressed. He pulled a T-shirt over his head. He wished briefly for a less shitty start to the morning, but he supposed he only had himself to blame. Shrugging into the holster, he dismissed it. He was here to work, not get touchy feely or indulge himself—and he’d already gone over the line with Ty too many times.

“You f**kshit!” Ty called hoarsely from the bathroom.

Zane snorted. It was about what he had expected to hear. Slightly more creative.

“What did you give me?” Ty demanded angrily.

Zane’s lips twitched. “Diphenhydramine hydrochloride,” he answered, pulling socks and a long-sleeved button-up out of his duffel.

“Fucking Benadryl? What the hell, man?” Ty asked in a hoarse, incredulous voice. “Were you trying to put me in a coma?” he asked angrily.

“How much did you give me?”

“Just three capsules,” Zane answered flatly.

For Ty, three capsules was damn near an overdose. Christ, he would be twitching for weeks after this. He closed his eyes and snorted like a bull preparing to charge, trying to calm himself. “Did you get our things?” he asked in a barely controlled voice.