Cut and Run 4 - Divide and Conquer

sound in his head.
    “Okay, Grady,” Alston said after Ty was finished running two
    pens out of ink. “There‟s good news and… well, other news. What do
    you want first?”
    “Scott, don‟t make me hurt you,” Ty muttered dejectedly.
    “You‟re done here, Ty, no more paperwork,” Alston said
    sympathetically. “But… you‟re also done for the rest of the week.
    Mac‟s 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 didn‟t 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.
    “It‟s not just you, Ty,” Alston said, sounding surprisingly
    reassuring. “We‟ve locked down Waller and Carmichael, too, and,
    well, you know about Garrett. We know you‟re a target. Your face has
    been all over the news. They‟re still running that sound bite of yours,
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    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.
    You‟ll also have a skeleton crew checking on you, just in case.” He
    sighed. “I‟ll 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. You‟re looking rough, even for you,” Alston said. “Nice
    suit though.”
    “Shut up.”
    Alston smiled. “We‟ll hold down the fort. Let me know how
    Garrett‟s 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 didn‟t sit
    well with him. He wasn‟t 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 Zane‟s 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.

    ZANE heard a key in the lock, and the door complained loudly as it
    was opened. “Honey, I‟m home,” Ty called out in a less-than-
    enthusiastic 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
    134 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

    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 Ty‟s 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 Ty‟s mouth. It got his pulse up when Ty chewed
    thoughtfully on his bottom lip.
    “Garrett?” Ty said in a flat voice. “You still in there?” He put his
    hand on Zane‟s chest, leaning over the back of the couch to do it.
    Zane actually startled out of his imagining with a sharp inhale.
    “Oh, sorry,” he said, lifting one hand to cover Ty‟s. “Are you
    frowning?”
    “What? I am now—what the hell kind of question is that?” Ty
    muttered as he pulled his hand away.
    Zane could hear him continuing to mutter as he moved away.
    “You sound frustrated. What happened at the