Touch & Geaux (Cut & Run, #7)

by Abigail Roux

  “Nick’s got upstairs,” Kelly told him.

  “Great,” Zane grunted. He started up the steps, each crunch of the glass bringing him closer to another confrontation with Ty, to a night of sleeping with his lover right next to him and feeling like there was a stranger in his bed.

  When he reached the top of the steps, he took a deep breath to steady himself. It was harder and harder to curb the anger growing. He’d had two hours to think of nothing but all the times Ty must have lied to him to keep from being caught, all the times they’d talked about Zane’s time in Miami that Ty must have been digging for information.

  All the times Ty had simply looked him in the eye and lied.

  His twenty-year party. He had seen Richard Burns there, and now he knew exactly where Ty had disappeared to. He hadn’t been retrieving that damn orchid from his car. God knew what they had been discussing. Zane’s hands balled into fists and he stopped on the steps. He wanted to stomp up there and clock Ty just to get the anger out, just to do something. And his entire body screamed for a drink. He wavered, fighting the urge to go back and pour himself a whiskey.

  The familiar rumbling undertone of Ty’s voice stopped him.

  Ty and Nick were at the far end of the hall, standing outside the room Liam must have taken. Zane studied Ty’s silhouette in the dim hallway. He seemed rigid and tense. He spoke with extensive use of his hands, but nothing of the low murmur reached Zane’s ears.

  Goddamn, Ty. Why couldn’t he have made this easy? Why did he have to tell Zane the truth about his assignment? Why now? Why not hold onto it like he said he’d wanted to instead of breaking Zane’s heart with it? Why did he have to accept the assignment at all? He should have just used some backbone and said no!

  Zane would have said no, had their position been reversed. That much he knew. He would never have kept a secret that big from Ty, not after that first week in New York. Trust was all they’d had, and Ty had used it, abused it. The only thing Ty was afraid of was saying no to a set of orders.

  Ty headed down the hall. Behind him, Nick rested his back against the wall and slid down to sit. Zane supposed that was where Ty had set up camp too. Right outside Liam’s door, using shadow for cover, with a direct view of the only exit. He wondered what Liam thought about having an armed guard at his door, about not being trusted without a handler on top of him.

  Then Zane realized he knew exactly how Liam felt.

  Ty stopped in front of Zane, both of them standing in the doorway to the room Ty had once occupied. Zane gritted his teeth when he met Ty’s eyes.

  “You want to talk?” Ty asked. “Or are you still too mad at me?”

  “You don’t think I deserve to be mad for a little longer?”

  Ty’s eyes searched over Zane’s face, then he stepped into the room. He kicked his shoes off, pulled his T-shirt over his head, and tossed it at the table.

  Zane followed, pulling the door closed behind him. He made sure to lock it.

  “You’re seriously going to leave it at that?” Zane said, voice pitched low. They were in the room with the pages plastered to the walls. He had confidence in Ty’s work, that they couldn’t be overheard.

  Ty faced him. He shrugged. “What do you want me to say? I told you I was sorry. I told you why I did it. And you know what, Zane? I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. Because I was protecting someone I love.”

  “You weren’t protecting me, Ty, you were spying on me. The fact that you don’t see that, that you’d march right down that road again without thinking twice, that scares the piss out of me. How the hell can I trust you now?”

  Ty rolled his eyes.

  “You were meeting with Burns in Baltimore, weren’t you?” Zane growled.

  “Burns wasn’t in Baltimore, Zane!”

  Zane took several long strides and grabbed Ty by his shoulders, shoving him up against the wall. “Stop lying to me!”

  Ty’s eyes flashed and he clenched his jaw, baring his teeth. “Call me a liar one more time and I’ll put you down.”

  Zane’s grip tightened. His breaths came harder and faster. Maybe a good knock-down, drag-out fight would do them both some good. Zane certainly wanted to smash his fist into Ty’s teeth right now.

  He pushed away instead, backing toward the door so he wouldn’t be tempted to lash out. “You might want to get used to it. That’s the kind of stuff you call people who lie for a living.”

  “Where are you going?” Ty demanded.

  Zane turned his back on him. “I need a drink.”

  Ty had to take a few seconds to gather himself before he could follow Zane out the door. He’d be goddamned if Zane headed down there to drink, not because of him, not without a fight. He glanced down the hall as he pulled his shirt back on. Nick had come to his feet, his gun in hand.

  “What’s going on?”

  Ty waved him off. “I got this.”

  He hurried down the steps and reached the barroom just in time to see Zane pouring a snifter full of whiskey.

  “Zane.”

  Zane glared at him, and Ty had to fight every fiber of his being not to avert his eyes. He plowed on, though, stepping up behind the bar, opposite Zane.

  “I’m going to give you ten seconds to get the fuck away from me,” Zane snarled.

  Ty’s heart stuttered. He had never seen Zane like this, had never known he even had it in him to seethe like this. He squared his shoulders, though. “I’m not going to let you do this.”

  Zane held perfectly still. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. “You did this, Ty,” he said, then lifted the glass to his lips.

  Ty grabbed his wrist. The whiskey spilled all over the bar. Zane stood so fast that his stool clattered to the floor. Ty barely managed to block Zane’s arm before the glass crashed into the side of his head, then Zane reached across the bar and grabbed Ty by his shirt, lifting him off the ground and dragging him across the bar top.

  Ty could do nothing but grasp Zane’s forearms and hold on as Zane yanked him off the bar and threw him to the floor. He rolled and pushed to his hands and knees, then to his feet. Zane picked up the barstool beside him and swung it with one hand, as if it were nothing more than a pillow.

  The stool crashed to the floor at Ty’s feet as he staggered back. He was both shocked that Zane had lashed out and chastising himself for not expecting it. He knew how deeply he’d hurt Zane, and he knew what happened when Zane’s anger went unchecked. He should have known. Zane’s rage only served to calm Ty further.

  “Everything I’ve done, Ty, I’ve done it for you!” Zane shouted.

  Ty was peripherally aware of Kelly hovering near the bar and Nick and Liam standing on the stairs watching. He waved at them to make sure no one interfered. He couldn’t have anyone getting hurt in a scuffle. He shook his head as Zane came at him. “Not like this, Zane,” he tried.

  Zane’s fist flew at him. Then again. Ty was able to block the first two punches, but the third caught him in the kidney and he doubled over. Waves of pain almost brought him to his knees. He lunged forward, wrapping Zane up to try to stop him without hurting him. He refused to throw a punch in retaliation.

  Zane shouted, his voice full of anger, pain, and betrayal. He picked Ty up and slammed him against the large wooden support beam in the middle of the room. The glass of a picture frame cracked against Ty’s shoulders. Ty tightened his hold on Zane’s arms, locking him down, trying to immobilize him before he hurt himself or Ty.

  “I’m sorry, Zane,” he gasped, trying to hold tight.

  Zane pressed his face into Ty’s neck, fighting back a sob. His entire body was trembling.

  Ty dug his fingers into Zane’s back, holding him close. He put his lips to Zane’s ear. “I’m so sorry.”

  Zane’s shoulders tightened under Ty’s hands. “I would have chosen you over anything,” Zane hissed. He pulled back, breaking Ty’s hold, bunched the front of Ty’s shirt in both hands, and jerked Ty forward until they were nose-to-nose, until Ty’s feet weren’t
solidly on the floor. “My job, my family, my wife. I would have given my life for you! But you! You can’t even give me the truth!”

  Ty only had time to squeeze his eyes closed before Zane picked him up and tossed him sideways. He crashed against one of the tables and slid with it as it tumbled over amidst breaking glass and bits of splintered wood.

  It took him a moment to get his wits about him. The others were wide-eyed and gaping. Ty rolled to his stomach and pushed up, accompanied by the tinkling of glass from a broken hurricane lamp as it cascaded down his arms and back.

  Zane was framed by the neon light coming from the bar behind him, casting him into darkness and shadow.

  “Jesus, Zane,” Ty muttered.

  Zane turned his back on him and went back to the bar. He pulled out a new glass and poured another whiskey, neat. “I don’t know about you, but I certainly feel better,” he said before throwing the whiskey back in one gulp.

  Zane stood at the bar, watching the scene unfold in the mirror as the whiskey burned its way through him.

  Nick and Kelly moved to help Ty out of the debris from the table and chairs they’d destroyed. Liam hung back, arms crossed, watching with one eyebrow raised. When Ty stood, his hand went immediately to his side, and he doubled over again. Zane was struck with concern, but he shrugged it off. He’d known Ty would still be tender in the kidney area. One good jab had made it almost impossible for him to defend himself. It had been unnecessary, though. Ty hadn’t even tried to fight back.

  Zane ducked his head when Ty’s eyes found his in the mirror. Zane caught the pain and fury despite trying not to. He continued to stare at the empty glass in front of him as they helped Ty up the steps.

  Zane reached for the bottle and poured himself another glass.

  “Is that really the best idea?” Liam asked. He leaned against the bar beside Zane. “I’ve managed to deduce you might be one who imbibes a bit too much.”

  “Go away,” Zane growled.

  “An alcoholic, that’s what I meant by that,” Liam said. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

  “I said go away.”

  “Or what? You’ll toss me over a table as well?”

  Zane bared his teeth at Liam.

  “I’ll tell you one thing, love, I wouldn’t pull my punches like he did. Seems an unfair advantage, trying to hurt someone who refuses to swing back.” He reached for the glass in Zane’s hand and took a sip. “Might as well drink tonight, though, yeah? Tomorrow, Ty’s going to get you all killed.” He handed the glass back to Zane and smirked.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Liam tapped his temple. “He’s not thinking. Neither are you, for that matter.” His arm brushed Zane’s as he leaned against the bar again. “These cartel hooligans. You know who they’ll send, don’t you?”

  “I have an inkling, yes. Mateo Valencia.”

  “Is he good?”

  Zane shrugged and took another sip. The whiskey scorched its way down his throat, lighting a fire inside him he’d been sorely missing. The world around him grew cooler compared to it.

  “Is he better than you?”

  Zane flexed his wrist, where a sheath and knife felt just right against his skin. He remembered a meeting in a penthouse suite when one of Antonio’s pups had yapped one too many times. Zane’d slashed the man from lip to ear, just to teach him a lesson. Just to remind him he didn’t speak until spoken to.

  “No,” he answered.

  Liam cocked his head. “Good to know.” He glanced at the steps. They were still alone. Kelly was probably checking Ty over to make sure he wasn’t hurt. “When you’ve finished satisfying your need for fine whiskey, I’d like to speak with you upstairs. Privately.”

  Zane huffed. He took another sip, closing his eyes. He had missed the smell. The taste. He had missed the world of black and white. “Can’t you say it here?”

  Liam whistled low and moved closer to whisper in Zane’s ear. “I’d prefer to discuss such things without clothing.”

  Zane turned his head sharply, but Liam didn’t back away. His nose brushed Zane’s, and for a few heartbeats, Zane thought he was going to kiss him. Liam didn’t move though, and Zane finally backed away with a jerky nod.

  “You are single now, Zane, in case that wasn’t clear in the way he looked at you. Ty doesn’t mess around with people who don’t want him.”

  Zane’s heart hammered faster.

  “Take your time,” Liam murmured before walking away.

  Zane pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it 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.�
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  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 knives deployed. It nicked Ty, who cried out and let Zane go.

  “Son of a bitch!” Ty shouted.

  Zane rolled to his back and kicked at Ty’s chest, sending him staggering as Zane stood.

  “I’m trying not to hurt you, Garrett!” Ty shouted. He wiped blood from the cut on his forearm.

  “Fuck that.”

  Zane grabbed for him, but Ty easily avoided his hand with a slap of one palm against Zane’s forearm. Zane rounded with the other hand and Ty repeated the move, not dodging but merely redirecting the force of Zane’s swings.

  “Russian sambo, right?” Zane sneered as they circled each other. “Another secret I’ll probably never have explained.”

  “Add that to the list, right behind sobriety.”

  Zane lunged and Ty went into a modified kick flip, only instead of kicking out, he rolled over Zane’s back to land behind him. Zane shoved his shoulder back, catching Ty in the side and flinging him onto the bed. The springs complained and the headboard banged against the wall.

  Zane climbed on top of him and grabbed both of Ty’s wrists, holding him down before Ty had a chance to recover. Ty bucked under him, but he couldn’t fight Zane’s weight in that position, not unless he meant to do real harm. And if there was one thing Zane knew about Ty, it was that he would let himself be beaten to a pulp before he truly hurt Zane.