Fish & Chips

by Abigail Roux

  “Okay,” Zane hedged. “Getting in isn’t much of a challenge. But getting Armen out might be. As far as I can tell, he goes to dinner and poker games, and that’s it.”

  Ty shrugged. “So go to a poker game. Make sure I have at least thirty minutes to get in and get out.”

  “There’s not another scheduled tournament until the end of the cruise,” Zane said. “He’s made it clear he’s not interested in socializing.” He huffed and walked back into the cabin, hands on his hips.

  “So… ask him to meet you to talk business. Hell, maybe you’ll learn something.”

  Zane didn’t look too happy, but he didn’t stomp on the idea. “I still think it’s a bad idea. We don’t know who else could be in there, and they’ve tried to kill you twice already.”

  “Okay,” Ty agreed with a thoughtful nod. He glanced at the partition and stepped back into the suite, closing the door behind him. “So we wait until dinner. Every time I’ve seen him at dinner, he has his bodyguards with him. I doubt they leave a man behind alone. Armen doesn’t seem the type to trust anyone that much. I’ll leave dinner early for some reason, and you make sure he stays there for at least half an hour.”

  Zane nodded, and when he spoke, his voice was reluctant. “All right. I guess that’s about as good a setup as we’re going to get.”

  Ty gave him a pleased smile. “Thank you.”

  “I won’t be able to back you up if I’m playing nice with Armen at the table,” Zane pointed out.

  “I can handle it,” Ty assured him. He stepped closer and clapped him on the shoulder. “I got along pretty well before you came along, remember?”

  “I’m thinking about a few days ago,” Zane murmured.

  Dolce and Gabbana. Ty cocked his head and smiled warmly. He stepped closer and pulled Zane near to him by his belt loops, then pressed his nose and lips to Zane’s cheek. Zane sighed quietly and slid his arms around Ty’s waist as he turned his face to catch a kiss on his lips instead.

  “You look good today, Zane,” Ty commented in a low voice, smiling. “You look like bait.”

  “Excuse me?” Zane’s voice rose at the end, and he leaned back to look at him.

  Ty just looked at him, a small smile curling his lips.

  “What are you planning now?” Zane asked, looking at Ty through narrowed eyes. “And what do you mean I look good today?” he tacked on.

  Ty laughed lightly and kissed Zane again, just because he could. Then he stepped away. “We need to try again to find our backup before dinner,” he told Zane as he turned away. “That should frustrate us both.”

  THE crystal lowball glasses held the finest in Scotch whiskey. Distilled on the Isle of Skye eighteen years ago, with additional spices introduced to produce a distinctive flavor that was often described as fiery, the liquor had a dark color and singular nose, not to be mistaken for any other whiskey.

  The bartender set the glasses on a tray atop two navy blue napkins to match the ship’s flags. The other drinks intended for the table stood on green and gold napkins to match, and he signaled to the waitress that the tray was ready.

  The bartender moved on to the next order. A man seated at the bar turned to look at the drinks, then carefully peered over his shoulder to check the waitress’ progress. She was nowhere near, and he furtively moved to open the hidden packet he slid out of his sleeve and hastily dribbled the contents into each of the lowball glasses.

  The poison had no smell and very little taste. The salty Talisker the extravagant Italian had ordered for the two gay men would mask it nicely.

  He took out another packet, preparing to seed the drinks of the Italians next, but movement caught his eye, and he was forced to move away as the waitress made her way toward the bar.

  She lifted the tray of drinks expertly into the air, whisking it above the heads of the other diners toward the round table near the corner of the dining room. A somewhat sedate round of thanks greeted her arrival with the libations.

  She placed the blue napkins and their glasses in front of their intended recipients, the dark whiskey concealing the deadly contents.

  THEY sat at the elegant table near the dance floor, Ty with one hand on the white linen in front of him and the other in Zane’s lap, his fingers laced among Zane’s. Zane hoped that holding onto each other would give them some measure of composure from which to draw patience. They had looked yet again for any of the other team members, even pretending to stumble into some service areas, and finding no one had just added to their frustration. Either they were doing a better job of being discreet than Ty had given them credit for, or something had gone wrong.

  Even a team relegated to invisible emergency backup had to be more available than this.

  Zane had called an abrupt halt to the search so they could get ready for dinner, and they had arrived just after Lorenzo and Norina Bianchi. Now they were making small talk over the live band playing old, romantic torch songs, waiting for Vartan Armen and the show Zane was sure to come. Finally, after eight days, a real lead to the smuggling ring’s business would have to present itself. As undercover operations went, eight days was nothing. It was the environs and the whole “married couple” situation with Ty that made it so surreal.

  Norina leaned slightly toward Ty after the waitress set a champagne flute on a green napkin in front of her. “Are you enjoying the cruise, Del? Can you believe it is already halfway over?” she asked in a pleasant tone. Her husband looked on tolerantly from her other side.

  Ty smiled at her and nodded, leaning back a bit to make room for the server. “It’s been quite pleasant,” he answered stiffly. He couldn’t seem to muster the energy to be effusive with her anymore. He had done an admirable job before tonight, though. He’d lasted longer than Zane would have predicted.

  “Oh, my poor Del,” Norina said sympathetically as she patted his cheek with her hand. “You have had a stressful time, no? It is settled, then. Tomorrow while they play with their toys, perhaps you and I, we will have fun somewhere else? Perhaps some time with the masseuse?”

  “Del enjoys anything that makes him more beautiful,” Zane drawled as he listened in.

  Ty looked sideways at Zane, giving him a brief, hateful look. But he chose to ignore the comment and looked back at Norina with a weak smile. “As long as the fun doesn’t involve climbing,” he said to her.

  She laughed lightly. “My fun has nothing to do with climbing.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have a great time,” Zane said, trying to keep the atmosphere pleasant. “I’ll be happy knowing Del is entertained while I’m working.”

  “If they have money to spend, they will be happy,” Bianchi predicted as he leaned sideways in his chair.

  Norina lightly slapped his hand. “It will keep my lonely thoughts from you.”

  Ty sniffed at them both, obviously insulted but holding his tongue as Armen strolled up to the table.

  “Apologies for my tardiness,” the man murmured as he pulled out the seat next to Zane and sat down. He didn’t offer an excuse.

  Zane smiled politely. “Not at all. We were just passing the time.”

  “I ordered drinks for us all, Signor Armen,” Bianchi declared.

  “Very well,” Armen murmured as he glanced toward the bar.

  “I think I would like the seafood tonight, Lorenzo,” Norina said as she perused the menu.

  “After fish the last three meals, I am not surprised, my gioia. Order whatever you like,” Bianchi said.

  Ty looked down and rubbed at his forehead uncomfortably. Zane knew he wished the two Italians would ease up on the lovey-dovey stuff a little. It was getting on his nerves, so Zane knew it had to be aggravating Ty, who reached for his glass of Scotch. Apparently he was figuring he might as well make the best of it if the criminals were footing the bill.

  Watching as Ty picked up the heavy crystal lowball glass and raised it to his lips, Zane could almost feel the spicy liquid burning its way to the back of his throat, and the thought was e
nough to raise the hairs on his arms even before Ty took a swallow.

  He’d be able to taste it on Ty’s tongue.

  “I see Del is anxious for a toast, no?” Bianchi said with a hearty laugh.

  Ty cleared his throat before ever taking a sip, and he put the glass down with an apologetic smile.

  “We’re just pleased to be here,” Zane said. He glanced to his own glass and decided he wasn’t even going to pick it up. He’d toast with the water glass, bad luck and cover identity be damned.

  “Then let us toast to pleasure,” Bianchi started, raising his glass. Armen and Ty both held their glasses out, and Zane reached for his water glass. Norina delicately touched her champagne glass to her husband’s, and Zane couldn’t help but watch as Ty put his glass to his lips again.

  Ty had been right: putting two of the things Zane was addicted to together like this was sort of cruel.

  The band struck the opening chord on a new song, and Norina clapped and bounced excitedly as she grabbed at Ty’s arm. The whiskey in his glass sloshed, and he pulled it away from his face before it could spill across his lap.

  “A tango! Del, you must dance with me! Please, tesoro, let us dance while you do your boring things,” Norina said as she turned to her husband.

  “Ah, the whims of a woman,” Bianchi said fondly. “If you must.”

  Norina turned to Ty, one graceful hand outstretched. “You promised me a tango while at sea.”

  Ty stared at her, eyes slightly wide. “I did?” he asked, obviously caught off guard. “I did,” he repeated more confidently, trying to cover his initial reaction as he took her hand gingerly. He glanced at Zane as if seeking rescue.

  Zane raised both brows and shrugged, though he felt a wash of anxiety. He had no idea if Ty knew how to tango. On a dance floor, anyway. It wasn’t exactly the type of thing one learned in a bar. “Go ahead, doll. I’m sure there will be more songs for us to dance to this evening.”

  Ty gave him the most evil glare Zane thought he had ever seen, but he stood and held Norina’s hand as she rose. The others stood as she did, and Ty escorted her away from the table like a perfect gentleman, leading her out onto the open dance floor in the middle of the dining room.

  “Ah, our loved ones are such delights, are they not?” Bianchi said as he swirled the liquor in his glass.

  “Delights. Right,” Zane murmured as he kept his eyes on the couple. There weren’t many brave enough to dance the tango, which made Ty and Norina all the more conspicuous. Zane would bet his recent windfall that Ty wouldn’t have walked out there without at least some idea of how to tango, but he was still worried. There was nowhere for Ty to hide.

  The melody restarted.

  When they started dancing, it was a slow, almost tentative start. More stop and go than a smooth flow of steps. But Zane knew that was how most tangos started. They didn’t miss any steps, and Norina was smiling as they turned in a half-circle. Then the music picked up, becoming more robust, and Ty whirled Norina around in time with the music and dipped her grandly as she laughed. That was when they truly began dancing.

  Zane almost broke cover and showed his surprise as he watched. Ty could tango. And pretty damn well. Surprise, surprise.

  The diners at the tables nearest the dance floor were watching the four couples dancing. All of them were quite good, but Ty and Norina were the only ones who were truly fun to watch. Two attractive people with shining personalities who knew what they were doing and enjoyed doing it—they were hard not to watch.

  “Ah, he makes my gioia smile,” Bianchi remarked, his voice full of pride. “She is so beautiful,” he added, almost to himself. A man truly in love.

  That thought shakily in mind, Zane spoke. “They both are,” he agreed with no doubt at all.

  “What about you, Mr. Armen? Why did you not bring someone with you? Perhaps someone as stunning as my Norina… or as handsome as Mr. Porter?” Bianchi asked.

  “Beautiful people are in general a distraction,” Armen said stiffly. “And more trouble than they are worth.” He made no effort to qualify the statement or excuse their spouses from the broad generalization. He glanced out at them, now dancing a more vigorous version of the tango as each grew familiar with how the other moved.

  If Lorenzo Bianchi had known the fake Del Porter on the dance floor was actually bisexual and had the reputation Ty did at home, there was no way he’d sit passively by while his wife danced with him like that. Zane found himself swallowing on no small amount of jealousy as well, especially upon seeing the real enjoyment on Ty’s face. Ty and Norina grinned widely at each other as they moved in graceful box steps and the occasional twirl or dip.

  “A distraction, perhaps,” Zane started before forcing himself to turn back to the table. “But also motivation to conduct a successful business.”

  “Leave it to the American to skip the small talk and move right on to the business,” Bianchi remarked bemusedly. He picked up his glass, holding it up to Zane. “I salute your ability to ignore beautiful things in favor of business.”

  Zane nodded once and leveled an expectant look at Armen. “While they’re otherwise occupied, no time like the present.”

  “To business, then,” Armen murmured as he raised his own glass. He and Bianchi touched their glasses together.

  After a moment’s hesitation under Bianchi’s expectant eye, Zane went against his earlier decision and lifted the lowball glass in front of him from the dark blue napkin. “To successful business.”

  The music hit a crescendo, and there was a smattering of applause from the people watching as one or two of the couples attempted some difficult dips or spins. A glance back saw Norina almost parallel to the ground, one dainty hand trailing the shining wood surface as the other gripped Ty’s elbow. Her feet were between Ty’s legs, sliding easily as Ty pulled her up and into an impressive spinning turn that required some fancy footwork on both their parts.

  Zane’s curiosity was in overdrive: where the hell had Ty learned to dance like that? They would be having a talk about this. Zane lifted the glass halfway to his lips but stopped as he continued to watch, wanting… no, aching to be…. After a long moment’s feeling, he shook his head and turned back to the table, letting the lowball glass thump gently to the table as the music faded back into the slow strand of the last vestiges of the tango. He sure did have his occasional flights of fantasy, Zane reflected with no small amount of regret. Dancing a tango with Ty definitely qualified.

  “I have arranged for a meeting tomorrow, during the shore excursions,” Armen told them as the music finally ended. He spoke quickly, as if to get it out of the way before the other two returned to the table. “We are to be taken to the objects, allowed to examine them, and then we will negotiate a price for any we deem worthy.”

  He had just finished with this curt explanation when Ty and Norina came gliding back to the table.

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Norina was exclaiming, hanging onto Ty’s arm and practically dragging him. “I have not danced in such a fashion in too long! We must do it again!”

  Zane stood once again with the other men, observing the formalities, and waited for Ty to seat Norina and rejoin him. “Did you enjoy yourself, doll?” he asked, a little more seriously than he’d actually planned.

  Ty’s face was flushed, though whether from the exertion or from embarrassment Zane couldn’t be sure. “Yes,” Ty answered curtly. The tone was enough to let Zane know he was blushing and not merely overheated.

  Zane slid his arm around Ty’s waist and pulled him in close for a moment. “You looked incredible,” he said honestly. It was good luck that it was in character.

  Ty shivered violently. He turned his head and exposed his neck to Zane’s lips as he spoke. “Shut up,” he whispered, flustered yet slightly amused. Zane chuckled and decided to let up. Otherwise he’d pay for it later. So he pulled Ty’s chair out for him instead, but his hands still itched to touch.

  “Well done, my lovelies,” Bianchi sa
id as Ty seated himself and Norina beamed at her husband. “Del, I thank you for sparing my poor feet.”

  “My pleasure,” Ty responded with a weak attempt at a smile. Norina turned her charming smile on Ty and began speaking rapidly in Italian to him, obviously too excited to remain in English.

  Ty was merely nodding in apparent agreement to whatever she said as he reached for his whiskey. But Zane didn’t want to wait, and he knew getting Ty out on the dance floor wasn’t really a viable option. So he caught Ty’s hand and lifted it to his lips for a soft kiss along Ty’s knuckles. He leaned very close, brushing his lips against Ty’s cheekbone as he whispered. “How about another blush so they don’t suspect I’m telling you about the meet.”

  Ty glanced down slightly and then turned just enough that his breath was warm against Zane’s cheek. He put his drink back down, so distracted that he almost missed the blue napkin. “Is it soon?” he asked softly.

  “Tomorrow,” Zane breathed. “On shore.” He leaned a little closer, draping his arm over the back of Ty’s chair. “Maybe you can go shopping,” he murmured.

  Ty made a strangled noise in the back of his throat before pulling back and looking away from Zane with a sharp shake of his head. He followed it by stamping hard on Zane’s foot. Zane stifled a pained gasp and a grimace. Bastard. Ty wanted to be in the market when the deal went down, didn’t he? Zane jabbed Ty in the ribs with two fingers and kicked his shin in return while starting to settle back in his chair.

  Ty jerked and sat forward too hard, jostling the table and the glass he’d again been reaching for. The hundreds of dollars worth of Scotch in his glass splattered everywhere, soaking the linen tablecloth and the majority of it flowing over the edge onto Ty’s chest and lap.

  He stood quickly with a curse under his breath. Norina exclaimed loudly and reached with her napkin to help him. Zane sat back quickly, managing to avoid all but a small splatter across one pants leg, and he had to stifle a laugh. He hadn’t expected Ty to react so violently, but maybe he was in a worse mood than Zane suspected.