Divide & Conquer

by Madeleine Urban

  It was silent for a few heartbeats. Then a hand touched his elbow.

  Zane flinched and inhaled sharply even though a split second later he knew it could only be Ty. A soft whiff of Old Spice confirmed it.

  “Sorry!” Ty said quickly as he snatched his hand away. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he mumbled as the hand returned to Zane’s elbow.

  “Weren’t you upstairs like… thirty seconds ago?” Zane asked in surprise.

  “Yeah, I was putting on socks,” Ty answered with an almost audible shrug. “Feet are cold. Why, did you need something?”

  “No. I just didn’t hear you come down.” Zane shook his head and crossed his arms, and he caught himself blinking against the utter darkness. His eyes were dry and scratchy, and he reached up to rub at one. The nurse had said it was because the eye could not perceive light to force dilation, so his eyes wouldn’t produce protective tears as they normally would.

  Ty’s hand caught his, pulling it away from his face. He felt Ty move closer, and the callused hand at his cheek moved to cup his face. “Don’t do that,” Ty chided gently. “You want some more eyedrops?”

  Zane nodded, resisting the urge to apologize like he had the first twenty times. “Yeah. They’re in that bag from the hospital,” he said, resignation swamping him again.

  Ty was silent as he moved away. Zane had to wonder whether it was because he didn’t know what to say to him now that he was blind. It was possible that Ty had always been relatively quiet the majority of the time and Zane had never noticed it because of the spurts of rampant activity and rambling. He told himself that was just one more thing he was going to pay attention to if he ever got his sight back. There was so much he realized now that he’d taken for granted.

  A few moments later, Zane heard the bag rustling, and then Ty pressed the eyedrops into his hand.

  “Need anything else?”

  Zane felt the childish desire for a kiss and hug, but that was a little much, even for him. He was already becoming a huge drain of Ty’s time and patience. “No, thank you,” he murmured. “I’m just going to bum around down here if you have something to do.”

  Ty made a frustrated noise. “You know what, sitting around here being miserable isn’t going to do you any good,” he said abruptly. He took Zane’s hand and gave him a small tug, guiding him over to the couch and unceremoniously shoving him onto it. “Sit here. I’ll be right back.”

  “What—” Zane cut himself off as he bounced on the cushions. There was no point in questioning Ty. It was a little refreshing, actually, to be called on his moping. Zane put some drops in his eyes, then leaned back into the corner of the couch and waited, brooding. He knew he was in a shitty mood, but he also was inclined to think he was justified.

  From somewhere in front of him there was a click, followed by soft music wafting from what Zane recognized as Ty’s Bose iPod dock. It had been a gift from Deuce, something Ty rarely used, and it sat on one of the shelves along the brick wall of the living room.

  Ty’s taste in music was eclectic, to say the least. He would blast classic rock and heavy metal in the Bronco when they drove on some days, and on others it would be laid-back country. When he worked out, it was thumping club music, something that would get the adrenaline pumping, but at home on the rare occasions when he listened to music, it was often folksy blues or indie rock, occasionally even something from the Rat Pack days. Zane never knew what to expect out of Ty’s sound system.

  Now the music was slow and relaxed, with a bittersweet undertone. Then, below the melody, was the unmistakable sound of the coffee table being shoved off the rug onto the hardwood, away from the center of the room.

  Ty took his hand and pulled at him. “Come dance with me, Zane,” he requested quietly.

  Zane’s stomach flipped as he got to his feet, his hand folding into Ty’s after the gentle tug. He wondered if he looked as surprised as he felt and what expression was on Ty’s face right now. He took a few cautious steps after Ty out onto the cleared rug, the surprise melting into a deeply felt curl of pleasure and sparkle of unexpected nerves.

  Ty laughed as he pulled Zane to him and they fumbled over where to put their hands and how to hold each other. His breath was warm on Zane’s cheek, and for the first time, Zane could feel the way Ty held himself as he prepared to dance, confident and strong. He’d seen it on the cruise ship when Ty had done a damn good tango. When they’d danced at the club, it had been more of a whirling mosh pit. This would be their first real dance.

  “You lead, I’ll follow,” Ty offered.

  “I’d rather follow you,” Zane murmured, absolutely aware of how many meanings those words held right now.

  Ty’s hand tightened in his, repositioning them, and his other arm wrapped around Zane until they were close enough that Zane could feel Ty’s movements deep down. He started with slow, easy steps, a real box step and turn to match the music, not just a graceless shuffle. This Zane could do without thinking about it, Ty’s body and the music guiding him. He literally didn’t need to see a thing. He draped his free hand over Ty’s shoulder and relaxed into Ty’s arms, their cheeks brushing with each step. Ty turned his face toward Zane’s, touching his nose and lips to Zane’s cheek, and he curled Zane’s hand between them, holding it against his chest. They swayed gently with the music, but Ty would occasionally pick up the pace and turn Zane in a faster circle as the instrumental chorus picked up. Then he would slow them again, pulling Zane closer, pressing their cheeks together in a gesture that was borderline sensual as the music moved them.

  Zane’s pulse thrummed as he gave himself over totally into Ty’s hands, following his capable direction and floating on the music. His bad mood didn’t stand a chance, and Zane could even feel a smile pulling at his lips. He’d thought about this, a slow dance with his lover, not a flashy tango or a writhing clash under a disco ball. But he’d never dreamed he would get one. It was possibly one of the most erotic, most loving things Ty had ever done for him.

  Neither of them had shaved in a few days; Ty’s cheek scratched alongside Zane’s. But his lips pressed to the corner of Zane’s mouth and stayed there. It wasn’t quite a kiss. His movements were relaxed and natural. The way his body moved to the music and was able to lead Zane’s would have been gorgeous to see. It was better to feel, though.

  The song began to wind down, threatening to end the moment. Zane’s hand tightened on Ty’s shoulder without conscious thought, and he finally turned his face carefully, skimming their lips together. Ty returned the kiss just as tentatively. They slowed to a stop as the song ended, and Ty kissed him again as they stood in the middle of the living room. The next song started up, similar in tempo, still soulful and brooding like the first. Ty didn’t move with the music, though, choosing to hold Zane to him and kiss him instead, and Zane had no desire whatsoever to move from that spot. This was something new and fragile, something more intense and yet more comfortable.

  Maybe Ty had chosen this because he knew how much Zane loved to dance and he’d been searching for anything he could think of to divert his cranky partner. Maybe he had wanted to do this as badly as Zane. Whichever it was, Zane didn’t care. He gave in to the desire he’d quashed earlier and slowly tried to wind himself tighter around Ty.

  Ty let him do as he pleased, indulging in the kiss even as he started their dance again, and Zane felt better than he had since before the accident. The tender kisses kindled a cozy golden glow inside him. With his lips on Ty’s, his eyes closed and Ty’s arms around him, the world didn’t feel dark and foreboding.

  They continued like that, swaying languidly to the music, and when their lips finally parted, Zane heard himself whisper, “I love you.”

  Ty snorted softly, as if the words amused him. He didn’t stop the swaying motion of their dance. “You’re being seduced,” he said in a warm voice. He murmured his words against the corner of Zane’s lips.

  Zane sighed shakily, a tremor of shock echoing through him. He hadn’t real
ized what he’d said before Ty’s reply, and his pulse kicked up as it crashed in. Now he didn’t know what to say at all, and he felt flushed all over, still shocked by what had slipped out. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that Ty had brushed it off—all he could feel was the swelling ache in his chest. “Seduced?” he managed to get out.

  Ty hummed and smiled against his cheek. “I was good at this sort of thing once.”

  The awareness rippling through him made Zane huff out a quiet laugh as he tried to get ahold of himself and let the panic fade. “You’re still good at this sort of thing. You could tell me to do anything right now, and I’d try.”

  Ty slowed their motions to a stop. He grazed his lips over Zane’s, still holding him as if they were dancing. His words were whispered when they parted. “Then I want you to close your eyes and dance with me. Tonight, forget that you can’t see.”

  Zane obeyed, and his eyelids fluttered down as he focused on feeling Ty, absorbing the power and magnetism of his presence, so strong that a warm buzz rippled through Zane, urging him to release his surprise and worry, to simply be with Ty.

  Ty readjusted his hold, pulling him closer and starting into the slow sway again. He began to hum along with the song, and soon he was singing quietly near Zane’s ear. Zane had never heard him sing. He truly did have an incredible speaking voice, deep and soulful with that hint of a growl. His singing voice was no less impressive. It washed through Zane, their bodies melding with the dance, and Zane was hopelessly, helplessly lost in him.

  Chapter Ten

  GRAHAM’S parents had been in France for the last two months and would be there for another week, so Pierce’s crew had been using his house as a home base. Graham sat at the kitchen table, one leg bouncing furiously underneath it as he tapped at the laptop in front of him, paging through news articles. Their press coverage increased every day, feeding Pierce’s confidence. As if his ego needed any more stroking. Pierce had been on his high horse for days now, ordering them around. Ross seemed happy enough to keep on with Pierce’s schemes, but ever since finding out about Mr. Garrett, the great master plan had lost its shine for Graham. He was pretty sure Hannah felt the same way. Every time he saw her, she looked more and more like a scared rabbit.

  “So, Ross,” Pierce said from his seat at the head of the table, chest puffed up with self-assumed authority, “you’re going to get those keys so we can get into the gym to plant the bomb. I’m picking up the last of the supplies tomorrow, and then I can start building it. This bomb will be the best yet.”

  “Sure thing, Pierce,” Ross agreed, tapping out his orders on the iPad in front of him.

  “What gym?” Hannah asked.

  “We can’t get into a cop gym. They’re, like, guarded or in the bottom of the station, aren’t they?”

  “We got into their baseball diamond, didn’t we? Anyway, we’re not going after a cop gym. We’re planting it at the Y on Druid Hill,” Pierce said.

  “The Y?” Hannah’s voice edged up. “I thought we were only blowing up places with cops. That we weren’t going to go after regular people. The mall was bad enough.”

  “The mall was our best hit yet! And it was because there were civilians there. And the press. The pigs are more likely to fuck things up if they’re showing off for the fucking media,” Pierce snapped. “Besides, the web site says the gym is closed for renovation. No one will get hurt that doesn’t deserve it.”

  Hannah looked down, frowning faintly as she poked at one of the bank bags in front of her.

  “They raised over a million dollars to build that new gym,” Pierce said, sounding far too pleased with himself. Graham didn’t know why. The Y was a charity, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like blowing up some million-dollar store. Didn’t the other bombs do enough damage?

  “Why do we need a better bomb?” Graham couldn’t help but ask. “The others didn’t do enough damage?”

  “No, they didn’t,” Pierce said flatly.

  “A bomb is a bomb, isn’t it?” Hannah asked tentatively. “It’s just supposed to keep them away from the banks.”

  Pierce smacked his hand on the tabletop, and Hannah cringed. “It needs to be a better bomb because I said so.”

  Graham’s stomach began to roil. He hoped that Mr. Garrett had found that note by now. It was okay, robbing banks. It was kind of cool, kind of badass, and fuck the banks anyway. It’s not like they ever did anything good for anyone. He had heard his dad grumbling about all the money they’d lost when… well, Graham didn’t really understand that part, and half of it had to do with politics anyway and who cared about that, but it had been fun, going after something everyone seemed to think was so big and powerful. Plus, if they got enough money Graham could quit his crappy restaurant job his father had made him get to teach him “fiscal responsibility.”

  But Pierce was getting scary. It wasn’t about the money to him anymore, and Graham didn’t know when—or if—he’d stop. They’d been lucky more people hadn’t been hurt at the mall.

  “Pierce, we’re really hurting people—”

  “Just the fucking cops!” Pierce yelled.

  “So which one are we hitting next?” Ross asked, looking so eager that the acid started inching up through Graham’s gullet.

  “‘We’ aren’t,” Pierce said with a smug smile. “Hannah is.”

  Hannah went totally white. “What? Me?”

  “It’s about time you did something besides making phone calls,” Pierce ordered. “Time to earn your part of the take. You’re going to rob the bank this time.”

  “B-b-but I don’t know how!” Hannah wailed, wringing her hands.

  “Suck it up, Hannah,” Pierce said harshly. “You want your money so you can get away from Stepmommy Dearest, you’ll do what I tell you. You hear me?”

  “Yes,” Hannah mewled, slumping in on herself.

  “So what are we doing while Hannah’s hitting the bank?” Ross asked.

  “Graham’s going to have the car nearby to get Hannah when she comes out. You and I are going to take care of those two piece of shit pigs who called us out on TV,” Pierce said with such relish that Graham had to swallow hard on his gorge.

  “Do you know who they are yet?”

  “The loudmouth’s name is Grady. I can’t find his address, but I’m going to follow him home from the FBI one day.”

  “Why didn’t you just take care of him when you had him in the car that time?” Ross asked.

  Pierce’s face reddened. He’d talked a lot of talk, but Graham had seen the size of the FBI agent. He knew exactly why Pierce hadn’t “taken care” of him. Agent Grady would tear Pierce’s arms off like a pit bull playing with a kitten.

  “I want to make him suffer first!” Pierce shouted.

  Ross raised his hands in a placating gesture, and suddenly Pierce was fine again.

  “So Graham, you have to find a getaway car.”

  “We can use that kickass truck,” Ross suggested.

  “That Fed won’t be needing it,” Pierce said smugly, pulling out a ring of keys and twirling it on his finger.

  “I’m not driving a truck you stole from a Fed!” Graham said, feeling his stomach flip unpleasantly.

  “Then you better come up with something of your own,” Pierce snapped. “You don’t like the truck, then I’ll drive it. I’ve already replaced the plate.”

  Graham slumped down into his chair under the sense of impending doom that hung in the air.

  Pierce stood up and leaned over, planting his hands on top of the mess of schematics and maps. “We keep going. No one’s getting hurt who doesn’t deserve it.” He reached out to the middle of the kitchen table and plucked up the pink ceramic piggy bank he’d set there the day he first laid out his plans. “We’re gonna split this city wide open,” he said, smirking before deliberately dropping the pig to the table and watching it crack right through the middle.

  “TY, YOU need a break,” Zane said as he walked slowly into the living room. He was
almost certain Ty was in the kitchen on the other side of the bar. He’d heard glass bottles clanking in the refrigerator.

  It wasn’t even the weekend yet, and Zane knew the babysitter role had to be chafing. While Ty had been good as gold in the two days since moving Zane to his row house, it couldn’t last much longer. Zane didn’t want it to last; it was starting to freak him out. He almost wanted to pick a fight just to hear Ty rant so it would vault him back out of The Twilight Zone.

  “What?” Ty asked in a muffled voice, as if he was kneeling below the level of the kitchen counter.

  Zane frowned as he reached out in front of him, certain the bar should be there. “I said you need a break. What are you doing? You sound like you’re in a hole.”

  He felt more than heard Ty stand quickly, right in front of him. “Nothing.”

  Zane tipped his head to the side, trying to remember what Ty kept in the cabinets under the bar. He didn’t believe Ty for an instant, but since he couldn’t hear anything ticking, he let it go. “Nothing,” he stated. “Yeah, that’s the problem. You need a break,” he stated for the third time.

  “I wasn’t doing anything,” Ty insisted in his most innocent voice. It turned more suspicious as he kept talking. “A break from what?”

  Now Zane was sure he didn’t want to know what Ty had been doing. “A break from your babysitting duties.”

  “Oh,” Ty said with a huff. “Why do you say that? I haven’t set fire to anything lately.”

  Normally, Zane would just give Ty a look, deeming the just-spoken words bullshit. But since he couldn’t see Ty to focus on him, that wasn’t going to work. “But you have the matches in hand,” Zane said knowingly.