Cut and Run 5 - Armed and Dangerous

sir.”
    “Tell me.”
    “I was able to get in touch with Julian Cross, sir. He understands the situation.”
    “Thank Christ.”
    “But he wants no part in it.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “He told me that he’s out and intends to stay out, sir. He wants no part in any of it. He said if anyone is sent to pick him up, they’ll return in a body bag. Since you know where he is, he’s packing up right now and preparing to move.”
    Jonas closed his eyes. Burns slid his palm across his mouth.
    “Cross is my friend, sir,” Nichols’ voice said on the speaker. “I don’t want him hurt. But I also know that if this doesn’t end he’s going to be a target for the rest of his life.”
    “What are you getting at?”
    “I want assurances that after this is over, Julian will be left alone.”
    “Assurances?”
    “Your word will do.”
    Jonas met Burns’ eyes across the office. “I’ll go to bat for him.”
    “I suppose that will have to do. He won’t be easy to detain, but I may have a way.”
    “What do you propose?”
    “I can arrange for his boyfriend to be at home at a certain time. If he calls Julian, Julian will come and could possibly be detained. But it has to be today.”
    “That can be done.”
    “Julian won’t go gently.”
    “We’re aware of that fact.”
    “Even so. If I were you, sir, I’d sure as hell send more than one guy.”

    T HE heavy thuds of wrapped fists hitting a punching bag echoed off the concrete block walls, as did the soft grunts of effort coming from the man abusing it. The FBI Baltimore field office gym was almost empty in the very early morning. That just meant Special Agent Zane Garrett didn’t have to deal with people watching him beat the stuffing out of a bag.
    Again.
    He focused on his target, using hands, feet, arms, legs, whatever combination worked as he let his body attack and his mind empty. Then, after one vicious kick, the stationary bag swung backward and a deep oomph and a hard thump interrupted Zane’s concentration.
    “Garrett, what’s good, man?” Special Agent Fred Perrimore muttered wryly from where he sprawled on his ass on the mat behind the punching bag he’d been holding in place.
    Zane lowered his fists and wiped the trailing sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm. “Sorry, Freddy. I figured you were paying attention.”
    “I was!” the stout, muscled black man said from the floor.
    Zane offered him a grin and a hand. He helped the man to his feet.
    “Need to talk about the prickly thing that crawled up your ass and died?” Perrimore asked, rubbing his hip with one hand.
    “What do you mean?” Zane asked as he walked to the nearby bench and picked up his towel.
    “You’ve been pissed for days, Garrett. You’d think your fifteen minutes of fame would make you friendlier, but no.”
    “Don’t talk about publicity with me.” Zane had not enjoyed the continued media attention after his touchdown run with a bomb at Green Mount Cemetery last week. His snowflake of a partner had been granted a reprieve, three days off work to deal with the mental fallout. But not Zane, no, because he had used up all his comp time being blind and helpless.
    “I’m just glad Grady hasn’t been here. You two would be taking each other apart in the ring,” Perrimore said with a nod to the boxing ring in the middle of the gym. He sprayed his face with his water bottle. “How the hell does he have so much damn leave time, anyway? Is he on psych eval again?”
    Zane shrugged. He’d been a little on edge ever since he woke up and found a good-bye letter in bed next to him instead of his lover. Zane didn’t even know if Ty’s little mental health trip had helped him. That phone call had been two days ago, and no Ty in sight.
    “He needed some time after the building fell in on us,” Zane murmured.
    “Hell, Zane, I don’t doubt that. I’d be shocked if he were here. In fact, I’m shocked that you’ve been here.” Perrimore crossed his arms and focused his disapproval on Zane. “You were blind for a week. And being in that building when it came down on you and Grady? You should have taken time too. The docs would have signed off on the leave, no question.”
    Zane edged up one shoulder as he punched halfheartedly at the bag, watching it waver. “I had plenty of time to sit and think when I couldn’t see. I need to be doing something, even if it is just paperwork. Mac’s not letting me go out, anyway.”
    “Yeah,” Perrimore