Cut and Run 3 - Fish and Chips

and get out.”
    “There’s not another scheduled tournament until the end of the cruise,” Zane said. “He’s made it clear he’s not interested in socializing.” He huffed and walked back into the cabin, hands on his hips.
    “So… ask him to meet you to talk business. Hell, maybe you’ll learn something.”
    Zane didn’t look too happy, but he didn’t stomp on the idea. “I still think it’s a bad idea. We don’t know who else could be in there, and they’ve tried to kill you twice already.”
    “Okay,” Ty agreed with a thoughtful nod. He glanced at the partition and stepped back into the suite, closing the door behind him. “So we wait until dinner. Every time I’ve seen him at dinner, he has his bodyguards with him. I doubt they leave a man behind alone. Armen doesn’t seem the type to trust anyone that much. I’ll leave dinner early for some reason, and you make sure he stays there for at least half an hour.”
    Zane nodded, and when he spoke, his voice was reluctant. “All right. I guess that’s about as good a setup as we’re going to get.”
    Ty gave him a pleased smile. “Thank you.”
    “I won’t be able to back you up if I’m playing nice with Armen at the table,” Zane pointed out.
    “I can handle it,” Ty assured him. He stepped closer and clapped him on the shoulder. “I got along pretty well before you came along, remember?”
    “I’m thinking about a few days ago,” Zane murmured.
    Dolce and Gabbana. Ty cocked his head and smiled warmly. He stepped closer and pulled Zane near to him by his belt loops, then pressed his nose and lips to Zane’s cheek. Zane sighed quietly and slid his arms around Ty’s waist as he turned his face to catch a kiss on his lips instead.
    “You look good today, Zane,” Ty commented in a low voice, smiling. “You look like bait.”
    “Excuse me?” Zane’s voice rose at the end, and he leaned back to look at him.
    Ty just looked at him, a small smile curling his lips.
    “What are you planning now?” Zane asked, looking at Ty through narrowed eyes. “And what do you mean I look good today ?” he tacked on.
    Ty laughed lightly and kissed Zane again, just because he could. Then he stepped away. “We need to try again to find our backup before dinner,” he told Zane as he turned away. “That should frustrate us both.”
     
     
    T HE crystal lowball glasses held the finest in Scotch whiskey. Distilled on the Isle of Skye eighteen years ago, with additional spices introduced to produce a distinctive flavor that was often described as fiery, the liquor had a dark color and singular nose, not to be mistaken for any other whiskey.
    The bartender set the glasses on a tray atop two navy blue napkins to match the ship’s flags. The other drinks intended for the table stood on green and gold napkins to match, and he signaled to the waitress that the tray was ready.
    The bartender moved on to the next order. A man seated at the bar turned to look at the drinks, then carefully peered over his shoulder to check the waitress’ progress. She was nowhere near, and he furtively moved to open the hidden packet he slid out of his sleeve and hastily dribbled the contents into each of the lowball glasses.
    The poison had no smell and very little taste. The salty Talisker the extravagant Italian had ordered for the two gay men would mask it nicely.
    He took out another packet, preparing to seed the drinks of the Italians next, but movement caught his eye, and he was forced to move away as the waitress made her way toward the bar.
    She lifted the tray of drinks expertly into the air, whisking it above the heads of the other diners toward the round table near the corner of the dining room. A somewhat sedate round of thanks greeted her arrival with the libations.
    She placed the blue napkins and their glasses in front of their intended recipients, the dark whiskey concealing the deadly contents.
     
     
    T HEY sat at the elegant table near the dance floor, Ty with one hand on the white linen in front of him and the other in Zane’s lap, his fingers laced among Zane’s. Zane hoped that holding onto each other would give them some measure of composure from which to draw patience. They had looked yet again for any of the other team members, even pretending to stumble into some service areas, and finding no one had just added to their frustration. Either they were doing a better job of being discreet than Ty had given them credit for, or something had