Cut and Run 4 - Divide and Conquer

for that pasta
    to go bad.”

    GRAHAM stood on the sidewalk, staring wide-eyed at the door. What
    the hell kind of fight were those guys having ?
    He held the envelope between damp fingers. He‟d written it
    quickly. He‟d wanted to follow Mr. Garrett and his friend, but he‟d
    missed them leaving the restaurant while he‟d been washing dishes. He
    had been so panicked for a moment he‟d almost told Leticia that he
    needed to go after them, but then he‟d overheard Ryan talking about
    delivering to Mr. Garrett‟s and realized they had to have his address in
    the delivery logs. Turned out his place was only a block away, close
    enough he could walk there on his break, and so he had, shaky but
    determined.
    Graham had to tell someone what Pierce was doing. Who better
    than an FBI agent who couldn‟t see his face to identify him?
    But now, standing here, listening to what sounded like a violent
    disagreement inside, Graham was having second thoughts. The door
    Divide & Conquer | 155

    actually rattled as someone pounded on it erratically. Well, the other
    dude had looked awfully angry when they were at Chiapparelli‟s.
    Graham swallowed hard, steeled himself, and gripped the
    confession in his fist as he stepped up to the door. He wouldn‟t knock,
    because there was no way he was going to interrupt whatever epic
    battle was going on inside, so he smoothed the letter out with shaking
    hands and slipped it under the door.
    It got stuck in the rubber doorstop and wouldn‟t push all the way
    under. Graham cussed to himself and shoved it harder. It crinkled up,
    and he stopped. Another bang and thump against the door followed by
    what sounded like a shout of pain made him jump back, and he looked
    up at the door, heart hammering in his throat. The letter wasn‟t going
    anywhere, but he sure as hell was.
    He turned and jogged to the corner and around the block, back to
    the restaurant and safety.

    156 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

    Chapter Nine

    ZANE shifted as he came awake. He was warm, half-wrapped in the
    sheet, but something was missing. He frowned and reached out, his
    hand catching on the rucked-up quilt before coasting over the cool
    sheet beside him. Zane pushed himself up on one elbow as he started to
    rub at his eyes. After a moment, he made himself stop. It wasn‟t like it
    was going to help. He still couldn‟t see anything. His chest clenched
    painfully.
    “Ty?”
    “I‟m here,” Ty grunted from somewhere near the edge of the bed.
    He sounded like his head was down, his voice hoarse.
    “You okay?”
    “Yeah, just… restless,” Ty answered, his voice lacking its usual
    liveliness, even if he had just woken. “Couldn‟t sleep.”
    “You could go for a run,” Zane suggested. Sometimes getting Ty
    up and moving helped.
    “I was thinking about going to the office,” Ty countered,
    sounding guilty.
    Zane frowned. “Thought Mac told you to stay home. If he sees
    you, he‟ll get that pinched look on his face, like he bit into a lemon or
    someone twisted his shorts.”
    “That‟s how he always looks when he sees me,” Ty muttered,
    almost under his breath. “I‟m sorry. I just can‟t sit here anymore. I need
    to find someone to bully into telling me what‟s happening.”
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    It had been all of one day. Zane shook his head and made a
    mental note to stock up on shiny things to divert Ty the next time they
    lucked into vaca—time off from hell together. “Yeah, okay,” he said as
    he pushed at the sheet to untangle it from his legs.
    “Do you want to come?” Ty offered uncertainly. “If I can find
    Alston, I can blackmail him into giving me something. It won‟t take
    long.”
    “I think I‟ll pass on actually going in,” Zane muttered. He didn‟t
    want to be around anyone like this. Not yet. “Blackmail?”
    “Long story. Involves a duck and a can of oregano.”
    “Don‟t tell it, please.”
    He felt Ty‟s hand on his arm, rubbing comfortingly. Ty had been
    unusually tactile since the hospital, making up for Zane‟s lack of vision
    by touching him whenever he was able, as if he somehow knew how
    much it helped. Zane closed his eyes, grateful for it. He covered Ty‟s
    hand and squeezed gently. It was easy to think black thoughts when
    you were stuck in the dark, and Ty‟s touch helped him resist it.
    “Breakfast first?”
    “Sure, why not,” Ty replied easily. Zane felt him lurch off the
    bed, and when he spoke again, he sounded like he