Cut and Run 5 - Armed and Dangerous

combination of Tide, gun oil, leather, and sweat that turned him on like crazy. But Zane felt a pang of yearning for a whiff of Old Spice.
    “I’m also expecting him to not actually be at this address. If he was this easy to find, he wouldn’t be Batman,” Ty said, drawing Zane out of his reverie.
    “If he’s there, it would be novel for it to go so smoothly,” Zane said as the cab came to a stop in front of an old building converted into condos.
    Ty checked his gun and got out as Zane paid the driver, who didn’t even blink at the weapons and nodded when Zane told him to wait. Ty clucked his tongue, trying his best not to smile as Zane joined him on the curb. Ty had been told not long ago that he shouldn’t enjoy the almost-getting-killed part of his job as much as he did. Zane didn’t know who had said it, but ever since, Ty had been making a concerted effort to hide his unholy glee during melees. It was still pretty clear to Zane, though.
    He surveyed the light traffic passing by on the side street. It was evening, and there weren’t many people out and about. Hopefully that would work in their favor.
    “Ready?” he asked Ty.
    Ty glanced up and down the street, then nodded and stepped up to the double glass doors of the building. They would have to be buzzed in, which never helped the element of surprise. Ty stared at the panel for a moment, obviously contemplating how to go about it. He glanced back at Zane and shrugged one shoulder, then pushed the number they’d been given.
    After a short pause, the small speaker clicked. “Hello?”
    “Hey, Jimmy!” Ty practically shouted, startling Zane. Ty’s words slurred as he leaned toward the speaker. “Dude. You should not have left early tonight.”
    There was a short pause. “I think you have the wrong apartment.”
    “Come on, man, don’t be like that! I swear I didn’t know you were into her! I left my good pants on your couch. If I go in to work hungover in my boxers again, they’ll can me for sure. Four strikes and you’re out, brother!” Ty bit his lip to keep from laughing as he turned his head away from the speaker box.
    Zane grinned and shook his head, covering his mouth and reminding himself that they were trained federal agents. Professionals. In theory.
    “You’ve got the wrong apartment. There’s no Jimmy here.”
    “Oh,” Ty drew out. “Shit, man, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to go buzzing you so early in the morning.” The last glance at his watch had told Zane it was nearing six in the evening. “But hey, do you know Jimmy, man? Could you grab my pants for me?”
    There was a longer pause, long enough that Zane thought the man on the other end of the speaker had abandoned the conversation. But then the box clicked again.
    “There’s no Jimmy here. Buzz somebody else.” The words ended with some ring of finality.
    Ty clucked his tongue again and shrugged at Zane. “Worth a try,” he told his partner with a smirk. He reached out and hit another button. A moment later a woman answered. “Delivery.”
    “I didn’t order anything,” she said brusquely, and that was that. Four more tries later—one no answer, two immediate denials, and a bizarre conversation with a stoner about the phases of the moon during which Ty had way too much to offer, in Zane’s opinion—Ty huffed in frustration.
    “How many more are you going to try?” Zane asked. They didn’t really have the time to call the Chicago field office and ask for a warrant. Not to mention that would go over really well with Burns, who obviously wanted them to keep this as low as it could go. Was this the kind of thing that Ty was always doing for Burns?
    Ty glanced at him stubbornly and pushed a button at random. Zane rolled his eyes. As soon as there was an answer, he stepped closer to the speaker and said, “Federal agents, ma’am.”
    “Nice try, asshole,” the woman said smugly; then the speaker box clicked off.
    Ty growled dangerously. “I hate this town,” he muttered as he took his gun out from under his coat.
    Zane straightened in mild alarm. “What are you doing?”
    Ty yanked a glove off one hand and wrapped it around the butt of his gun, then turned smoothly and rammed the handle into the glass door. The mottled glass cracked and shattered, but there was mesh wire embedded inside that kept it from falling in. Ty used the muzzle of his gun to clear out the window, ripping through the wire, raining pieces all over the sidewalk and Ty’s feet.