Cut and Run 4 - Divide and Conquer

Zane observed before he turned into
    the bathroom.
    “That‟s not funny, Zane,” Ty shot back at him.
    “Wasn‟t meant to be, Ty.”
    They got dressed quickly. Ty gave Zane one of his better ties to
    wear because the one Zane had left there had been ripped off at some
    point and was mangled beyond repair. Ty preferred the narrower style
    of ties, and though it looked good on Zane, people might notice it
    wasn‟t his. They‟d have to deal with it, though. What with all the PR
    hype, the Bureau had cracked down on the dress code; ties were a must
    in the office.
    Ty stepped out into the hallway carrying his shoes under one arm
    and picking at the medical tape on his fingers. He pulled it off carefully
    to check his finger. The joints were blue and swollen, and it hurt like
    hell to move it. He was beginning to suspect it actually hadn‟t been
    fixed properly.
    He sighed and balled up the tape. He‟d have to raid the first aid
    kit when he got to the office.
    “What do you usually do for breakfast?” he asked Zane in a loud
    voice. He realized Zane had never actually stayed here for the morning
    before work. On the weeknights he stayed over, he got up early and
    went back to his apartment to get ready for work while Ty went for his
    morning run, and then they met up at the office. It was an odd feeling,
    having Zane here. Kind of nice.
    Divide & Conquer | 89

    Zane appeared in his bedroom doorway, working on his tie.
    “There‟s a good bakery and deli on the way to the office from my
    place. I stop and get coffee, at least.” He fussed with the knot and then
    pulled the ends to loosen it and start over as he turned back into the
    room.
    Ty moved toward Zane and reached out to grip his shoulder. Zane
    relaxed as Ty reached around him to take hold of the tie from behind.
    He had tried before, but the only way he could fix a tie was if he was
    wearing it. He tied the knot deftly with his arms wrapped around Zane,
    and the warmth of Zane allowing the simple action sank deep into him.
    When he was done, he placed his hands flat on Zane‟s chest and
    hugged him, then backed away before the moment could get too
    saccharine.
    “I‟m going to need food or I‟ll get all… zingy,” Ty told him with
    a frown as he turned away.
    “That would go over well in the office,” Zane said wryly. “I‟d
    kind of like to see it.”
    Ty nodded and muttered wordlessly and headed for the stairs,
    thumping down to the living room to put on his shoes. It was going to
    be a long day.

    ZANE parked his truck on the curb next to a government-issue
    unmarked SUV. “Why don‟t you stay here? There‟s an extended team
    in there already; it‟s not like I‟ll be alone.”
    Ty nodded as he looked out at the array of Baltimore PD
    uniforms and FBI windbreakers already on the street. They had been
    called in to investigate a suspicious package reported at an upscale
    shopping area in the Inner Harbor. Patrons and employees clogged
    sidewalks that were being barricaded off—the building had already
    been evacuated as a precaution—and reporters elbowed their way
    through willy-nilly. A lot of reporters.
    90 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

    “Don‟t have to tell me twice,” he muttered. The morning‟s brief
    zing from the Vicodin had worn off quickly, leaving him achy and
    nauseated and altogether miserable, just as Zane had predicted.
    Zane unfastened his seatbelt and offered Ty a half smile. “Take it
    easy. I‟ll be back soon, and we‟ll get an early lunch and I‟ll take you
    home.” He climbed out and shut the door, walking over to a group of
    agents as he tugged a matching navy-blue FBI windbreaker over his
    head. Ty belatedly thought he should have told Zane to put his vest on.
    He never wore the damn thing unless Ty nagged him about it.
    Ty scooted down in his seat and put his sunglasses on so that no
    one would notice if he went to sleep sitting there. His stomach was
    unsettled, his head still pounded, and he felt… floaty. He was sure there
    was another word for it, but that was about as close as he could get to
    describing the feeling. It was entirely unpleasant. He probably should
    have called in and just stayed at home. On the plus side, his ribs didn‟t
    feel like they were about to snap anymore, so he might be able to flush
    the rest of those pills when he got home. And Michelle Clancy had
    taken one look at his finger that morning, grabbed his hand, and yanked
    the offending digit into place before he