Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

dark hair could probably use a trim. He was a large man, nearly three inches over six feet, and he usually carried his frame like a large cat, lithe and easy. Tonight, though, there was a slump to his broad shoulders as he sprawled. He had no intention of moving any time soon.
    Not until his cell phone began to trill demandingly. With a heavy sigh, he snapped it off his waistband and flipped it open. “Grady,” he answered curtly, his West Virginia drawl still pronounced after all the years he'd spent away from home.
    "Special Agent Grady, Assistant Director Burns would like to see you,” a clipped, professional voice informed him.
    "When?” Ty asked flatly.
    "Special Agent Grady, the Assistant Director of the Criminal Investigations Branch does not call to make appointments. He expects you in thirty minutes."
    "Thirty minutes!” Ty blurted. “Do you have any idea where I am?"
    "In your dirty underwear, no doubt. Be here in thirty,” the voice answered in the same flat, businesslike tone before hanging up.
    Ty closed his eyes and mentally kicked something. Thirty minutes to get into DC was going to require the flashy blue lights. Ty fucking hated the flashy blue lights.
    * * * *
    "Great job, Special Agent Garrett. You are a credit to the Bureau,” the Division Director said as he shook the man's hand. “A commendation will go in your file for your work, of course."
    "Thank you, sir,” FBI Special Agent Zane Garrett answered curtly as the other agents murmured quiet, slightly reluctant congratulations.
    "And I get to reward you for your work well-done,” the Director continued smoothly. “You're being promoted out of the division. I'm very sad to see you go,” he said smoothly, still pumping Zane's hand vigorously.
    Zane shook his hand somberly, his face a mask of pure professionalism that covered the brutally honest thoughts he harbored beneath it. “I've enjoyed working for you, sir. But you know me; always looking to be where I can do the most for the Bureau."
    "That's a good man. Say goodbye and get yourself upstairs. Assistant Director Burns wants to see you in ten."
    Showing no hint of a smile—or the disdain for the praise over doing his boring-ass desk job—Zane turned and walked through the other agents he'd worked with in the division that pursued cybercrimes. He'd gotten along with them fairly well, considering he did his job, and sometimes theirs as well, with complete and utter focus. Zane knew many of his co-workers were just as happy to see him go as stay; his strict adherence to the rules and logical, single-minded work to achieve his goals were often tiring to those around him. He had goals, several of them, and they were all that mattered. None of them included working with this division any longer than necessary.
    Looking around the open office, Zane knew with complete certainty he wouldn't miss it. While his obsessive attention to detail had steered him perfectly while on these assignments, he knew he was worth far more to the Bureau than serving on this mind-numbing, numbers-crunching detail. Now he would get his chance to prove it.
    Shaking some hands and enduring a few “so sorry to see you go” back slaps, he waved off his soon-to-be-former co-workers, told the office administrator he would be back later to clear out his desk, and walked out the door. He looked forward to seeing what the Assistant Director of the Criminal Investigative Branch had in store for him. He had worked damn hard for this promotion. It had to be good, since the man wanted to see him immediately.
    Zane stopped into the bathroom to straighten his tie and check to make sure his close-cropped brown hair lay down neatly. The suit he wore was sharply tailored to his 6'5” frame, but it didn't hide the bulky muscles that moved under the fabric. His was not a body you'd expect to see riding a desk, a fact he was reminded of daily looking at the slightly pudgy agents who worked around him. He frowned slightly, surveying the crow's-feet at the corners of his eyes and the ridges of his twice-broken nose. With a displeased twitch, he ran his hands over his close-shaven cheeks and dismissed his image before buttoning his suit jacket and heading upstairs.
    * * * *
    The secretary gave Ty Grady a look over her glasses that clearly said she disapproved of the air he breathed. She lifted her chin and looked him up and down, wrinkling her nose at his appearance. “You're early,” she announced with a touch of surprise