Cut and Run 4 - Divide and Conquer

asiago bread from the bakery down the street, and now he was
    making mashed potatoes. From scratch, which tickled Ty to no end. It
    seemed such a domestic task for his tough-guy partner.
    Chops sizzled on one burner, and Zane was pushing a pile of
    chunked potatoes to the side of the cutting board and starting on
    another, the knife moving swiftly and efficiently in his hands. A pot of
    water boiled on a third burner behind him.
    Ty devotedly stayed away, mostly because it was a tight fit with
    both of them trying to move around each other in the narrow row house
    kitchen. Also because Ty disliked cooking—too many nights in the
    desert or jungle losing a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors and being
    forced to go hunt up dinner for the entire Recon team—and he rarely
    had time to do it even if he‟d wanted to. Instead, he hovered around the
    other side of the bar, watching. Occasionally Zane would glance up at
    him, apparently just to check that he was still there.
    Ty leaned his elbows on the counter and held his chin in his
    hands, trying to keep himself from fidgeting. Zane finished chopping
    the second potato and looked up at Ty as he scooped the pieces into his
    cupped hands.
    “You okay?” Zane asked. “You‟re twitchy.”
    Ty laughed and held out his hand. “Have you met me?” he asked,
    teasing.
    Zane shrugged one shoulder as he carefully let the pieces fall into
    the pot of boiling water. “I guess we have been going full tilt since we
    got back from the cruise, but I figured you would have relaxed a little,
    at least. Your hair‟s grown out again, so you don‟t have that to bitch
    Divide & Conquer | 35

    about anymore. The cat jokes have finally died off at work. And I know
    you‟re enjoying the softball practices.”
    “It‟s fun. You should come out to one of the games,” Ty
    answered with a careful look up at his partner. They were about to kick
    off the softball league that had been organized, this weekend, in fact. It
    had become a big spectacle, and it took a lot of Ty‟s time. More than he
    liked.
    Zane picked the knife back up and started chopping again, a slight
    smile curving his lips. “Come out meaning „watch‟, or come out
    meaning „play‟?” he asked. “I can do watching. Playing, not so much.
    Me and sports in high school?” He shook his head.
    “I thought you were too busy square dancing,” Ty drawled, trying
    not to smile.
    Zane chuckled as he pushed chopped potatoes to the side of the
    cutting board with the back of one hand. “That too,” he admitted. He
    glanced up at Ty. “I did think about joining the team anyway, you
    know.”
    Ty smiled, but his brow furrowed as well. “Why? I didn‟t think
    you liked it.”
    “I don‟t like making a fool of myself in public, no,” Zane agreed,
    going back to chopping. “But between those damn PR seminars and
    you at practice, we‟ve been lucky to have a couple of nights a week to
    ourselves that aren‟t simply crashing into bed exhausted.”
    Ty shrugged in agreement, pursing his lips. It was true. And
    annoying. “You want me to quit?”
    Zane‟s head snapped up, eyes wide with clear surprise. “No, not
    at all. You enjoy it too much. Just thought I might see about learning
    something we could both do. But I figured that for now, the AA
    meetings were more important.”
    Ty‟s lips twitched, and he raised one eyebrow as he looked at
    Zane. He didn‟t touch the subject of Zane‟s AA meetings. He never
    did. “I‟ll take you to the batting cages one night,” he offered instead.
    Zane‟s smile reappeared. “Deal.”
    36 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

    Ty hummed and idly watched Zane‟s hands move. After a few
    silent moments, he looked down at his own hands, turning them over
    and frowning at the fading tan line on his finger where the fake
    wedding ring had been. It had been cut off in the end, but he‟d kept the
    band. It sat upstairs in a box, hidden away with all the other bits and
    pieces he‟d kept from cases. The line would be gone soon.
    “I don‟t suppose if I agreed to go to a game that you‟d agree to go
    dancing,” Zane suggested as he scooped more chopped potatoes into
    the water.
    Ty looked up and snorted at him. “I don‟t mind going dancing.
    It‟s just the clubs that make me nervous, too many ways to get killed.”
    “And strobe lights,” Zane added, obviously remembering what Ty
    had told him when he‟d balked at the dance club on the cruise ship. “I‟d
    still have