“Yeah, well,” Zane murmured. That wasnt the kind of thing he said to Ty. It just wasnt. “I think I feel like an idiot now.” Ty squeezed him hard. “You feel pretty good to me,” he whispered. Then his hands were sliding off Zane and he was stepping away.
Zane swallowed hard as he lost touch with Tys warmth and had to grasp for something to say. Ty was going to think hed lost his mind. “I think Ill go back to bed for a little while.”
“Might be a good idea.” Tys voice was moving away. “Get some sleep, Garrett. Call me if you need anything.” Zane listened to the front door shut firmly and sat down hard on the edge of the bed. He felt hot and goddamn tingly all over, and it wasnt from anything but what would probably qualify as sweet nothings on the open market. Flopping back on the bed, Zane rolled, pulled Tys pillow under him, and buried his face in the sheets. It was time to do some serious thinking; he figured he might as well be as comfortable as possible to do it.
“THANKSfor coming in, Grady. You werent injured, right?” Scott Alston asked.
“Like you care,” Ty grunted at him. “Lets get this rolling, huh?” “Dont be a jerk,” Alston shot back. “Were all worried about Garrett, and therere others hurt too. Wilkinsons in the hospital with a compound fracture of her right leg, and three others are still there too.”
Ty held up both hands in surrender, closing his eyes. “Im sorry. Sorry.” Alston sighed and sat down. “Yeah, well… its been a shitty couple of days.” He shuffled through some papers. “All right. I need to bend your brain about both bombings, the ballfield and the boutiques.”
“We talked about the alliteration, Scott,” Ty mumbled, not even managing a smile. Alston glared at him, then ignored the words. “So far weve found only four agents who were in both places. That includes you and Garrett.”
“Who are the other two?” Ty asked as he settled into the seat across from Alston. It was uncomfortable and too low, forcing him to look up at the other man. Classic psychological tactic to make someone being interrogated feel inferior and uncomfortable. Fucking ass**le Feds….
“Waller and Carmichael, both from tech ops. They were on the street. As were you, right?” Ty sighed heavily and nodded. He spent the next hour telling Alston everything hed done, seen, felt, heard, and thought at both scenes, culminating in a ten-minute rant about his Bronco being melted and who the hell was going to pay to fix an old Bronco that was worth more as evidence than it was on the street and when the hell was he getting his Bronco back exactly?
After Alston managed to quiet him down, Ty was forced to sit there in the uncomfortable chair for another fifteen minutes as Alston got papers together for him to sign. By the time the man returned, Ty was calm again, concentrating on breathing in, breathing out, making the f**king Om sound in his head.
“Okay, Grady,” Alston said after Ty was finished running two pens out of ink. “Theres good news and… well, other news. What do you want first?”
“Scott, dont make me hurt you,” Ty muttered dejectedly. “Youre done here, Ty, no more paperwork,” Alston said sympathetically. “But… youre also done for the rest of the week. Macs orders.”
Ty stared at him, not truly surprised but still disgruntled over being benched. But who was he kidding, really? He was mangled from trying to stop a fireman the size of a refrigerator from scoring in a softball game that was basically a PR stunt, his Bronco was smoldering in an evidence yard somewhere, and his partner had been blown up and was helpless at home. Ty didnt want to be here when he needed to be there.
“Yeah, okay,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands and picking at the medical tape around his fingers. “Its not just you, Ty,” Alston said, sounding surprisingly reassuring. “Weve locked down Waller and Carmichael, too, and, well, you know about Garrett. We know youre a target. Your face has been all over the news. Theyre still running that sound bite of yours, and those bastards went after your truck. Now we need to figure out if Garrett was a target as well, and we want you off the field of play. Youll also have a skeleton crew checking on you, just in case.” He sighed. “Ill call you as soon as we answer some of the metric ton of questions, okay?”
Ty just nodded and stood. “Are we done?” he asked tiredly. “Or am I due for a full rectal exam today too?”
“Go on. Youre looking rough, even for you,” Alston said. “Nice suit though.”
“Shut up.”
Alston smiled. “Well hold down the fort. Let me know how Garretts doing when you hear from him, would you?” “Yeah.” Ty turned and practically trudged toward the elevators. Intellectually he knew why he was being sent away. It still didnt sit well with him. He wasnt used to being shooed away to safety when things got too hot. He told himself to look at it as some much-needed time off from work to be with his lover, but even that held a sour note. He tried not to think about Zanes sight and when or if it would return. He told himself not to think of anything as he rode the elevator down.
Zen, Ty, Zen. Z ANE heard a key in the lock, and the door complained loudly as it was opened. “Honey, Im home,” Ty called out in a less-thanenthusiastic voice.
His eyes closed against the utter darkness, Zane could see it: the battered metal-core door opening and Ty stepping inside from the stoop, short hair ruffled from the cold wind Zane could feel sweeping in behind him, dressed in a dark wool overcoat, that incredible blue suit, holster at his right side, badge clipped on his belt, displayed whenever Ty set his hand on his left hip in a gesture of mild annoyance. From the sound of his voice, Ty was frustrated now, which meant the tie would be askew—if it was still on at all—and first thing, his jacket would be off, maybe even his shirtsleeves rolled up. Ty had long muscled forearms sprinkled with fine dark hair, and surprisingly trim wrists. Zane had more than once closed his hand all the way around one of those wrists. And Tys fingers were snub-ended but nimble, for all that several were various amounts of crooked from all the breaks.
He wondered if Ty was frowning. It furrowed his forehead, two lines darting between dark eyebrows, and his usually bright hazel eyes would be somewhat shadowed, trending to brown or dark green. When his full lips pressed into a firm line, it caused dimples to appear in his perpetually tanned cheeks. Zane had caught himself several times in the office looking at Tys mouth. It got his pulse up when Ty chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip.