Divide & Conquer (Cut & Run #4)(45)
Author: Abigail Roux

Ty sighed heavily. “I guess it is a better option than walking my happy ass out of the city,” he mumbled.

Zane blinked and straightened. “What?”

“Can I borrow your goddamn motorcycle to go to the office?” Ty asked, resigned.

Zanes jaw dropped. “Youre not seriously going to take the Valkyrie.”

“I could hotwire one of the cars in that parking deck, but they dont take kindly to that sort of thing round here,” Ty drawled. “All these months, all the times Ive asked you to ride with me, and youre finally getting on the Valkyrie when I can’t see it?” “Hey, lifes a bitch,” Ty told him without a hint of sympathy. He reached out and petted Zane on the top of the head. “You want more?” “More what?”

“Breakfast.”

“No, thank you,” Zane muttered, knowing he had another piece of toast and some bacon still to eat. “A drink, though, please.” Ty slid a glass toward him, already poured. “If you dont mind, Im going to go now so I can catch them unawares and take down the weakest of the herd before they can regroup,” he said with a certain sadistic relish. “I need the helmet, jacket, and keys.”

Zane sighed. He felt more than a little cheated. “The helmets on the bike. The jackets wherever it fell last night.” Ty didnt answer as he moved past. In short order Zane could hear the creak of the leather as he put on the jacket and zipped it up. Zane wished like hell that he could see Ty on the bike. Talk about fuel for jacking off.

He could smell the leather as Ty came closer, hear it moving as he checked the pockets. No doubt it would fit; the jacket had been Tys originally. Ty stood right in front of him and leaned in to kiss him briefly. “If youre good Ill do this again when you can see,” he promised, mischief lacing his words. “Keys?”

Zane blinked. “Really?” He smiled despite the current disappointment. “How good do I have to be?”

“Very,” Ty whispered, just a breath away. “You can start by giving me the keys.” Zane let a few heartbeats pass as awareness tore through him, then swallowed as he set both palms on the leather covering Tys chest. “In the dish on the bookshelf by the door.”

“Thank you,” Ty murmured with another teasing kiss. Then he moved away again, his footfalls barely there in his Converse sneakers and the leather jacket still creaking. The keys tinkled as he picked them up. “Ill call you when Im done,” Ty said to him as he passed on his way to the back door. “Keep your phone on you in case you need anything. Two hours, tops,” he guessed as the door opened.

“Ill be here,” Zane said wryly, and then added, “Hey, Ty?” “Yeah?” Ty responded as the door groaned open. A vision flashed in Zanes mind, what Ty must look like, standing in the open doorway, wearing his beat-up jeans and Western-style shirt and Zanes leather jacket, looking back over his shoulder at Zane expectantly. He probably had one eyebrow raised.

“Be careful. I want that chance to see this again,” Zane replied easily.

“Yeah, yeah, love you too,” Ty groused flippantly, shocking Zane into silence as the door clicked behind him, and he was gone. Zane blinked hard several times, realized his mouth was hanging open, and let out a long, slow breath, sitting there until he heard the Valkyrie start, idle for a minute or two, and then purr away. When he couldnt hear it anymore, he ate the toast and cold bacon automatically, absorbed in thinking about—feeling about—what Ty had said so casually, and how he himself hadnt found a way to say it at all.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that when someone knocked on the front door, he jerked in surprise and sent the dishes sliding, the plate knocking into the glass and crashing to the floor, sending the orange juice splattering across the bar—and him.

“Aw hell,” Zane swore, standing up and stepping back carefully. His hands and arms were wet and sticky with juice, and he could feel it soaking through his T-shirt and cutoff sweatpants. He turned his head toward the door at the next knock, and then he thought he heard his name. After sparing a thought for the cruel humor of fate, Zane stripped off his T-shirt, using it to mop off his hands and arms as he walked tentatively to the door and cracked it open, immediately shivering in the February wind.

“Zane? Its Ryan. From Chiapparellis?” Zane blinked in surprise and opened the door a little more, though he kept himself behind it. All of a sudden he was very aware of how undressed he was, and it wasnt just because of the cold morning breeze. “Ryan?”

“Hi, I know its early, but I got to the restaurant to start prep work, and Leticia and I got to talking, and, well, because you dont cook—or dont cook a lot, anyway—we made you a care package. Since youre stuck at home and probably arent up to dealing with hot pots and pans and knives.”

It took Zane a few seconds to parse all that. “A care package?” “Yeah. Italian cold cuts, some fresh bread already sliced, a crock of minestrone, easy stuff. Oh, and cheesecake, of course.”

Zane huffed a laugh, truly surprised. “Wow, uh, well. Thats great. Thanks.”

He heard Ryan laugh quietly. “Youre blushing.”

“Must be the cold,” Zane said quickly, dragging the sticky T-shirt over his chest and hiding bare-chested behind the door. “You could let me in and shut the door,” Ryan suggested, the repressed laughter all too clear in his voice. “That might help with the cold.”

Zane squeezed his eyes shut and said a quick prayer. He really, truly, honestly had never given Ryan Morelli a single thought other than that he was a nice guy. Now Zane hoped he was right. “Ah, right, yeah, sorry.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, opening the door. Ryan thumped up the steps and walked past him, and Zane shut the door firmly before turning around to face blindly into the apartment.

“I grabbed the mail off the steps too. Ill just put this stuff away… ah, I see. Well, that explains it.”

“Explains what?” Zane asked. “Why youre blushing. Theres breakfast everywhere. Give me a sec and Ill get it cleaned up.” Zane tried to object, but Ryan talked right over him. “Its no problem. Actually, here—”

Zane heard a rustle of fabric, then the sink switching on and off. He straightened as he heard Ryan approach. Then Ryans fingers touched the top of his hand, and Zane flinched in surprise. The touch disappeared, and Zane was again conscious of being half-dressed, his T-shirt crumpled in his hand. When Ryan spoke, he wasnt even an arms length away.