Cut and Run 4 - Divide and Conquer

an
    array of takeout menus, business cards, and a bowl of mints sat. The
    waiting area was quite small; maybe a dozen people could stand
    around, and it would be tight. Even the five people already there
    waiting made it difficult to look around.
    An older woman, slight and gray-haired, dressed in the black
    waitstaff uniform, walked out of the dining room to the right. “Good
    evening, gentlemen. Two for dinner?” Then Zane turned toward her,
    and she added, “Oh, Mr. Garrett, lovely to see you again.” She had a
    thick accent.
    “I wish I could say the same, Leticia,” Zane murmured with a
    vague wave at his eyes.
    140 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

    She broke out with a sharp question in a language that Ty
    definitely recognized as Italian. It made him flinch like one of Pavlov‟s
    dogs waiting to be hit with an ostrich leather hobo bag.
    Zane shrugged in answer to her. She tut-tutted him and turned to
    Ty. “This way, please. I have a table for you now,” she said, ignoring
    the other customers waiting who had been there first.
    Ty looked after her, then turned to frown at Zane. “You speak
    Italian now?” he asked dangerously. It was still a touchy topic, even
    almost three months after the cruise ship assignment where not
    knowing Italian had almost gotten him killed.
    “I have no idea what she said,” Zane said under his breath. “But it
    didn‟t sound good, now did it?”
    “I was about to smack you,” Ty grumbled. He kept a loose hold
    on Zane‟s elbow as the woman led them to one of the tables near a
    wide window. They didn‟t even have to weave around many tables to
    get to it.
    Ty glanced around the dining room as he took off his jacket. It
    was an okay place, but the food had to be spectacular for Zane to eat
    here three times a week. Ty much preferred his pub; it had character.
    And a bottle of Grand Marnier with his name on it behind glass over
    the bar. One-Eyed Mike‟s was four blocks from his house and almost
    halfway between his house and Zane‟s apartment. Much less classy and
    much more comfortable. He shook his head as he slid into one of the
    seats.
    Zane tentatively reached out to his side, and his fingertips brushed
    the glass window. “Okay, I know where I am,” he said, sounding
    satisfied as he shrugged out of his jacket.
    Leticia whisked by again, dropping off glasses of ice water, a
    basket of what looked like fresh-baked bread, a dish of real butter pats,
    and two large single-sheet menus printed on heavyweight paper. After a
    pause, she took Zane‟s menu back and patted him on the shoulder.
    “Ryan will be right out,” she announced before leaving.
    “Well. I guess it‟s pretty obvious I can‟t see, huh?” Zane
    commented.
    Divide & Conquer | 141

    Ty looked up from the menu. He narrowed his eyes, leaned
    forward to look at Zane closer, then reached out slowly and waved his
    hand in front of Zane‟s face. Zane didn‟t even blink. “It‟s… pretty
    obvious,” he said apologetically. He sighed and looked down at the
    menu again. When he and his brother had been little and gone to visit
    their great-grandparents, they had amused themselves by blindfolding
    each other and attempting to navigate various obstacles, just to see how
    Grandmother Griffin had done it.
    But there was a difference between closing your eyes and being
    blind. Even with a blindfold, there were still variances in light that
    could give you hints as to where you were and what was going on.
    Complete and total darkness—blindness—could be a lonely and
    frightening thing. Zane was taking it pretty well, considering.
    Ty returned his attention to the menu full of Italian dishes and
    grimaced. “You come here three days a week? Every week?”
    Zane edged a shoulder up. “It‟s right here by my place, and I love
    Italian food. There‟s plenty of choices if you don‟t want traditional red
    sauce. Sometimes I just get the Baltimore salad.”
    Ty looked up at him dubiously. “I don‟t get what‟s so special
    about….” He trailed off as he saw a waiter come around the corner and
    head for their table.
    The man was dressed all in black like the others, and he was
    impressively fit. The black T-shirt might as well have been painted
    over well-defined muscles. His shoulders were broad, and he was trim
    through the waist. He had dusky skin and sharp, defined facial features,
    and his hair would have been dark if it hadn‟t been shorn down
    practically to the scalp. It made him