Cut & Run (26 page)

He wedged his face between Zane’s and the pillow. “This in no way means I don’t still hate you,” he muttered as he nuzzled his nose and mouth against Zane’s temple and closed his eyes.

Zane smiled, his lower arm shifted so he could place his palm over Ty’s beating heart, and his top arm curled over his waist. He drifted to sleep, feeling amazingly comfortable, listening to Ty’s steady breathing.

Cut & Run | 155

slim woman in uniform with her dark hair pulled back into a severe bun stopped next to Detective Steve Pierce’s desk. “Got some Amessages for you, Detective,” she said, holding out a few pink pieces of paper.

Pierce glanced up. “Thanks, Branson. I’m putting in another work order on that voice mail,” he promised her.

“Sure thing, sir. It’s no problem, unless we’re booking,” she answered before taking herself back to the front counter across the large squad room.

Detective Steve Holleman glanced up at his partner from across their connected desks and raised an eyebrow at him. Pierce leaned back in the creaky chair and flipped through the pink slips. He scowled at one in particular and stared at it hatefully.

“Care to share?” Holleman finally prodded.

“Goddamn Feebs again,” Pierce muttered, tossing the pink slips on his desk. “About the serial.”

“What else is new?” Holleman muttered as he went back to the report he was filling out.

“It’s from that Henninger guy. There’s a new team here,” Pierce said, picking up his coffee with one hand and spinning his computer mouse with the other to wake up the monitor.

“Well, yeah,” Holleman huffed as if that should be obvious. “The last ones got themselves killed.”

Pierce slanted a displeased look at his partner, but didn’t tell him off.

“I still think they need to check their own house.”

“Tell
them
that. Shit, one of those guys almost went nuclear when one of the uniforms mentioned that at the last crime scene.”

“Yeah, I know. We’d probably react the same way, though. I just hate that they can march in and do whatever the hell they want. That’s why this 156 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

thing hasn’t been solved yet. Too many fingers in the pot, screwing with the soup.”

Holleman plunked his pen down and looked up at his partner with a frown. “You’re not starting with the food analogies again, are you?” he asked flatly.

Pierce rolled his eyes. “They got too many people dealing with the details, fucking up the evidence, and then they wonder why the case is so screwed. Then, of course, they call us and expect us to snap to. I’m thinking this time, they can wait.”

“Yeah, that won’t piss them off,” Holleman muttered as he picked up his pen again. “Whatever. I’ve got too much shit to do as it is.”

“I’ll call them tomorrow morning. You got that paperwork from Trenton?”

“Somewhere,” Holleman answered distractedly. “You got that statement from the chick who didn’t like buttoning her shirt?” he asked as he looked back up.

“Yeah, in that stack,” Pierce pointed to the corner of his desk.

“Singleton put a photo in there, too, of course.”

Holleman rifled through the stack until he found the folder. He plucked it out of the stack and looked at it with a smirk. Turning it around to show Pierce, he laughed softly and said, “Think we got any of her face?”

Pierce glanced over and did a double take. “Aw, shit. Singleton’s gonna get his ass in a sling.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “The cases keep getting weirder, and then that damn serial pops up again.” He sighed and looked up to gaze across the two desks at his partner.

Holleman’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth again, stuck to the side like it always did when he was deep in thought. “Wanna go get food?” he finally asked after pondering the universe for a time.

It took a moment for Pierce to blink himself out of his stare. “Ah, yeah. Sure. I could use more coffee.”

“Then we can call back those clowns and get it over with,” Holleman muttered as he stood and pushed away from the desk.

Pierce followed Holleman out of the office, grumbling to himself disconsolately the whole way.

Cut & Run | 157

TY slid carefully out of the bed and padded around the room, cleaning up and getting dressed almost silently. He risked a few glances at his bedmate and his frown deepened every time he did so. What the hell had they been thinking?

They hadn’t stopped with just one try. Hours after falling asleep in each other’s arms, they had awakened again and gone at it without any thought to the consequences. Ty had taken his turn, giving as good as he’d gotten from Zane. At least they’d both be sore as hell today.

Ty shook his head and went to the window, glancing out at the light rain. His entire body ached, and not altogether in good ways. He frowned even harder as he stood there, waiting for Zane to wake.

The bed growing cool pushed Zane from his sleep and he slowly shifted under the sheet. He made a soft sound deep in his throat when he rolled carefully onto his back. It wasn’t just his back that hurt. He opened his eyes to focus on the ceiling before turning his eyes to the other bed. Empty.

He turned his chin and saw Ty standing at the window. He looked tired and tense. Zane stifled a sigh. He knew he should have expected something like that.

Ty glanced over his shoulder when he heard the rustling and he cleared his throat. “Hey,” he offered lamely.

Zane raised his uninjured hand to rub at his eyes. “What time is it?

How long did we sleep?”

“It’s nine-thirty,” Ty answered without glancing at his watch or the clock. He looked away from Zane and back out the window. “How you feelin’?” he asked as he stared at the rain coming down.

“Groggy,” Zane said, his voice still thick and warm from sleep. He ran his hand over his hair and yawned, considering turning over and going back to sleep.

Ty lowered his head and considered the pros and cons of admitting how fucking sore he was. Everywhere. It might go to easing some of the awkwardness anyway. “My ass hurts,” he finally admitted with a small, wry smile.

Zane reopened his eyes to look at the other man. He had no idea how to respond to that, so he just looked at him. Ty shrugged lopsidedly when Zane didn’t respond. The cell phone at his hip began to sing, saving him from having to say anything further. He answered it with a clipped murmur after looking at the number.

158 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

Once Ty was distracted, Zane let his eyes slide down the wiry, half-clothed body. Ty’s ass hurt. Zane’s lips twitched. Not a good idea to laugh, he was sure. But damn ... what a boost to the ego. He pushed away the sheet and got out of the bed.

He lifted his arms slowly and started to lengthen his body in a long stretch. He bobbed his head from side to side, and bones popped. He relished the stretch for a moment before heading over to his duffel and digging for clothes.

Ty watched him, listening distractedly to the man on the phone as he did so. He realized with some annoyance that he was pondering the advantages of jumping his partner again. Finally, he looked away and shook his head. When he spoke into the phone after a long time of just listening, it wasn’t in English.

Zane glanced over when the lyrical language poured out in Ty’s raspy voice. He didn’t know which language it was, but something Middle Eastern; it had that sound. Maybe Farsi. Much more melodic than Zane’s own rapid-fire Spanish. The sound of it didn’t seem to fit Ty’s voice—or him—at all.

The conversation didn’t last long, and Ty bid the man farewell softly before ending the call and clipping the phone back onto his belt. He turned around and looked at Zane thoughtfully. “You feel up to a little trekking today?” he asked, not even pretending to try and explain who had been on the phone.

“Sure,” Zane answered, shrugging off any curiosity. “Moving around will keep my back from getting too stiff.” Before he thought better of it, Zane glanced to Ty, then down to Ty’s ass, then back up to Ty’s eyes. Ty raised an eyebrow and sneered at him. Zane bit back the smile and picked up his clothes. “What do you have in mind?” he asked as he walked toward the bathroom.

“I want to go see a body dump,” Ty called in answer, telling himself to let it go. He had offered the information, after all. He knew he risked a little razzing for it. Perhaps he had been looking for a sincere response, something to build up a little trust, instead of what he had gotten. Oh, well.

“Are you going to call Morrison or Henninger to set it up? Or are we still steering clear of the office for now?” Zane got into the bathroom and couldn’t hold back the grin any longer. Then he shook his head and started cleaning himself up to go.

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“None of them are still cordoned off, so we can just go. I just need to see them,” Ty answered as he turned back to the window and frowned at his watery reflection.

Zane stepped around the corner and watched Ty for a long moment.

When he spoke, his voice was lower and quieter. More serious. “Crunching profiles?”

Ty cocked his head to the side and cracked his neck with a grimace.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I just need to see why he left them where he did.”

Considering that response, Zane looked up at the photos tacked on the wall. He hadn’t thought about why the bodies were left as they were. “Well, get moving, Marine. We’ve got work to do.” His voice was still quiet, despite the words.

Ty turned around and huffed at him again. “It’s raining,” he informed the man as he picked up the T-shirt he had pulled out to wear. It was a white camp-style T-shirt with a brown teepee on the front, surrounded by the words

“Camp Runamuck.”

Zane cocked his head to one side as Ty pulled it over his head.

“Where do you get these shirts?”

“What do you mean?” Ty asked innocently.

Zane chuckled. “A Marine at Camp Runamuck. Hysterical,” he murmured as he started loading up his pockets.

Ty looked down at his chest and smiled slightly. “My former brothers-in-arms send them to me,” he answered. “I get a new one about every two or three months.”

“Once a Marine, always a Marine,” Zane quoted as he pulled on a light jacket.

“I loved being a Marine,” Ty responded defensively.

Zane looked at him evenly, seeing the bottom of Ty’s tattoo peeking out from under a shirtsleeve. “You still are a Marine,” he said.

Ty stopped his movements and cocked his head at Zane, trying to decide whether he was serious or just humoring him.

“My brother-in-law’s a Marine,” Zane said. “He always said you’re one for life.” He waited for Ty’s response.

Ty’s eyes darted over Zane thoughtfully. “He was right,” he murmured finally before looking away and grabbing his leather jacket.

160 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

Zane kept his eyes on him for a few moments longer before turning to pick up his gun, check it, and slide it into its holster. “Ready?”

Ty merely nodded as he slid his wallet into his back pocket and looked up. His oddly colored eyes met Zane’s dark ones. A thousand things to say went through Ty’s mind, and he even opened his mouth to speak. He licked his lips and lowered his head before he could, though, and he gestured to the door to cover his discomfort.

Although Zane was fascinated by Ty’s behavior, he made himself turn and walk. Maybe it was just that Ty had to work himself up to be such a bastard. Since he’d just had a few rounds of stress relief and a night’s sleep, he was calm. Zane sighed and opened the door for the other man, wishing he knew how to build a profile. He’d bet good money Ty’s would resemble a Rorschach.

Ty slid his hands into his pockets and kept his head down as they walked to the elevators. He’d lost control with Zane, and he couldn’t seem to come to terms with what he’d let happen. Not only had they fucked, but Ty had let Zane fuck him. He’d given up every ounce of control to a man he barely liked. And Ty had enjoyed it immensely.

Zane stabbed the elevator button and waited, Ty silent and nearly brooding alongside him. They both had plenty to think about. At least Zane did, and he resisted the urge to look over at Ty to try to read his face. He watched the elevator numbers change, approaching their floor. “Ty,” he said quietly.