Cut and Run 07 Touch & Geaux (27 page)

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.”

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.

Zane could feel Ty’s heart pounding, his breaths growing more difficult, his hard muscles working to free himself. Zane pressed down to keep him from getting loose and kissed him, hard and messy, forcing his tongue into Ty’s mouth and not giving him a chance to say otherwise.

Ty fought his grip, bucking his hips. Zane was growing harder with every struggle. Just like the first time they’d fought in an alley in New York City and then fucked all night long, the violence fueled him. He thrust down, grinding his cock against Ty. Ty moaned into his mouth, but he still tried to pull his hands from Zane’s grasp.

Zane let go of one wrist and grabbed a handful of Ty’s hair instead, yanked Ty’s head to the side, and bit at his neck. He let Ty’s other wrist go and reached for his shirt, ripping it at the neck so he could taste the sweat along Ty’s collarbone.

Ty’s breathing was harsh and labored. He twisted, and his forearm caught Zane in the cheek. Zane grabbed his hand and yanked Ty’s arm across his body, shoving it to the bed and pinning him. Ty tried to twist out of it, but Zane was too heavy.

“Asshole!” Ty snarled.

“I know you can throw me off,” Zane grunted. “Go ahead, Ty. Do it.”

Ty’s eyes narrowed. His breaths were gusting across Zane’s face. He didn’t make a move to break Zane’s grip, though.

Zane released his hand to see if Ty would struggle more. When he felt Ty’s body relaxing under him, he kissed him again, pushing himself between Ty’s legs, shoving his tongue between those sinful lips. He bit at Ty’s lower lip. Bit hard.

Ty’s fingers dragged down his shoulder and he let Ty’s lip go. He thrust again, his cock growing painfully hard inside his jeans. He reached between their bodies to loosen his belt and pull the zipper, then pushed his jeans and boxers down.

Ty’s eyes were dark and unreadable. “I thought we were done.”

Zane smiled slowly. “As soon as you know what it feels like to be used. Then we’re fucking done.”

He grabbed Ty’s shirt to rip it the rest of the way. Ty swatted at his fingers, but Zane knocked his hand away and instead reached to pull the straps on both his wrist sheaths. He tossed the knives away and hovered over Ty, pressing their bodies together.