Cut and Run 7 - Touch and Geaux

behind him with a click that seemed to echo through the building. He took a few tentative steps in the darkness, and set the bottle and glass on the kitchen table.
    A light flipped on, and Zane looked over his shoulder at the gun pointed at him.
    “Put that away,” he grumbled.
    Ty sat up in bed and swung his legs to the floor. He slid the gun under his pillow again. “How many have you had?”
    Zane shook his head and tapped the bottle. “Not enough to make it okay.”
    Ty’s expression remained impassive, which was singularly annoying since Zane usually read him so well. “I was doing my job,” he said, his voice low and even. “I was doing what I had to do to stay with you. What’s so fucking wrong with that?”
    Zane sneered. “Tell me something, Ty, is there anything you won’t do for a job?”
    Ty didn’t have an answer for that. He stood instead, crossing his arms. His breaths were harsh, like every word Zane hurled was making it harder for him to get air.
    “There isn’t a part of you that you haven’t sold for one thing or another,” Zane snarled. He advanced on Ty, giving an almost manic laugh. Ty stood his ground, merely cocking his head as Zane got in his face. “I’ve spent half my adult life with whores. You’re just better at your job than the others were.”
    “You’re drunk, Zane,” Ty finally managed to say. The blood had drained from his face, but he was standing straight and tall. “Keep your mouth shut before you say something I won’t forgive.”
    Zane took one more step, trying to crowd him into retreating toward the wall or the bed. But Ty still stood his ground. “God forbid you refuse an order, Ty. God forbid you choose something you love over being told what to do.”
    Ty rolled his shoulders and met Zane’s words with a stony face. The only thing Zane wanted to see in Ty’s eyes was pain. He wanted to hit him where it would hurt like nothing else, and punching him or tossing him around wouldn’t hurt someone like Ty. Sticks and stones could break his bones . . .
    Words were what hit Ty hardest.
    Zane closed his eyes. It was hard to fight the urge to jab at that soft spot with the whiskey flowing through him. He moved away and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus Christ, Ty, I thought I was going to marry you. Did you know that? I’ve been trying to decide how to ask you for months! I was trying to fucking ask you when Nick fucking O’Flaherty called you for help! You just had to answer the fucking phone!”
    Ty’s façade finally broke. His lips parted, but Zane didn’t let him speak.
    “I told my mother to fuck off for you! I took off Becky’s ring and put it away for you, you son of a bitch! And all you were doing was your job!”
    “You know that’s not true!”
    “You were just following orders,” Zane grumbled. He swayed as he took a careless step back, tired of trying to intimidate Ty into backing down. “Everything I know about you is based on lies. You’re a caricature. Just a good little soldier.”
    Ty’s voice broke. “You really believe that?”
    Zane waved a hand at him. The warmth of the whiskey churned through him, leaving a cold outer shell that nothing would penetrate. “You make yourself whatever you need to be to get the job done, and then you move on to the next.”
    Ty’s eyes flashed. “Bullshit.”
    “You made yourself perfect for me. But that’s not the real you either, is it? I bet you don’t even know who the real you is anymore.”
    Ty didn’t move, but his breaths were harsh in the silence. Through the haze of anger, Zane could see the life seeping out of Ty’s eyes, turning them hard and flat. A part of Zane screamed for him to stop—stop talking, stop being angry, stop going down this path. There was no coming back from this. But the part of Zane that was so hurt by Ty’s betrayal, the part that had continued to drink downstairs, that couldn’t get over the pain and anger, forced him to keep going.
    He took a step toward Ty and jabbed a finger at his chest. “When this mess is settled and we get back to Baltimore? We’re over. You and I. Done.”
    Ty grabbed his hand and shoved it away. “Right, Zane, that’s great. Why wait until you’re sober, right?”
    Zane shoved him. “We’re done!”
    Ty slammed both forearms against Zane’s arm and twisted, forcing Zane to contort with a howl of pain. Ty spun him and shoved him face first into the mattress. Furious, Zane flicked a wrist and one of his