“Garrett?” Ty said in a flat voice. “You still in there?” He put his hand on Zanes chest, leaning over the back of the couch to do it. Zane actually startled out of his imagining with a sharp inhale. “Oh, sorry,” he said, lifting one hand to cover Tys. “Are you frowning?”
“What? I am now—what the hell kind of question is that?” Ty muttered as he pulled his hand away.
Zane could hear him continuing to mutter as he moved away. “You sound frustrated. What happened at the office?” “Benched,” Ty groused. “Didnt tell me shit except that I was to go home until theyre sure were not targets. Well also have a protection crew tailing us.”
Zane frowned and sat up. Ty sounded almost angry. “Hey, come here,” he requested quietly. Something heavy, probably Tys overcoat, flopped onto the back of the couch. He felt Tys weight on the couch beside him, and soon Tys hand ran into his hair affectionately, carefully avoiding the small crooked line of stitches along the back of his skull.
Zane relaxed and leaned into the hand, moving his own to bump against and slide up Tys thigh. It was reassuring, having him this close, and if Zane needed anything right now, it was peace of mind. He turned his head to press his cheek against Tys palm, and Tys lips touched his gently. Only bare seconds passed before the hip that leaned against Zanes body began to ding and vibrate, but Ty ignored the cell phone in his pocket in favor of the kiss. It warmed Zane, something so insignificant as Ty choosing him over a cell phone call. Silly, maybe, but he was taking all the feel-good karma he could get at the moment. Wanting to be a little closer, he slid one hand to cup lightly around the back of Tys neck as he gave under Tys lips.
Ty sat up after the phone went quiet, running his hand through Zanes hair again as he leaned against him on the edge of the couch. “They gave me the rest of the week off,” he announced suddenly. “Im probably a target. They want me to lay low, not come back til Monday.”
“The likelihood of us being targets is really damn small,” Zane murmured, rubbing Tys back with one hand. “Even with the bomb in the Bronco, it was the only car there overnight. Small chance anyone could know it was yours. And down at the shopping complex? We werent even supposed to be there, really. We got sent last minute to help out. More likely they want you out of their hair.”
“Mac doesnt have any hair left. He pulled it all out,” Ty muttered unhappily. “I got to check this,” he added, and Zane could feel him pulling his phone out of his pocket. Zane relaxed back, keeping his hands on Ty, just for that connection. Despite the encouragement from talking to Deuce, Zane still felt pretty damn pitiful and lost.
Ty snorted at whatever he was reading on his phone, and Zane heard him snap the phone shut a moment later.
“Whats up?” Zane asked. “Its just my buddy Nick,” Ty said as he leaned against Zane again. “Hes a cop, on the last hour of an eighteen-hour shift, and hes trying to stay awake by driving me f**king crazy.”
“So hes the one who texts you all hours of the day and night?” Zane asked as he rubbed at his temple. The raging headache hed had in the hospital was still hanging on as a dull ache.
“Mostly, yeah. Why, does that bother you?” Ty asked with a hint of concern. He took Zanes hand as he spoke, his fingers rubbing at the base of Zanes thumb until he found the pressure point between the fingers and squeezed hard.
Zane groaned as the headache began to dull. If Ty knew one thing, it was how to use and abuse a pressure point. “No, it doesnt bother me.” He scrunched up his nose on purpose. “You havent texted me since you got caught with your girlfriend,” he lamented, but then he ruined it with a little laugh.
“I still owe you for that,” Ty told him wryly. He let off on the pressure point just a little, and the throbbing ache in Zanes head began to subside almost to the point of being gone. “Youre right here next to me. I dont need to text you.”
“Still.”
“You want to hear some of the crap he sends me? Then you wont be jealous.” Zane smiled slightly. He suspected Ty kind of liked that he might be jealous. “Sure,” he said amiably as he slid his arm between Tys back and the couch to pull him closer.
Ty shifted around to reach his phone again, and Zane heard him flip it open to find some example texts to read out loud. “The one he sent me on the way home said, „at my funeral it’ll be your job to throw yourself on my casket and weep. And the one he just sent me, he says, „false alarm, still invincible. No idea what he was doing that he thought he might die. The one before that was „for future reference a lint roller appears to be the best way to get glitter out of a beard.”
Zane chuckled. “Thats some quality conversation there. Is Nick one of the Recon guys? The one I talked to on the phone in New York?”
“The one you talked to on the phone?” Ty repeated in obvious confusion. “Oh! Yeah, the one that called and cussed me out for getting blown up. Yeah, that was Nick. He was Recon, but he was also with me pretty much from the bus to Parris Island.”
“So you two go way back,” Zane murmured, lifting his hand to rub Tys belly through the soft dress shirt. Zane idly wondered what color it was.
“Yeah. Tried to get him to join the Bureau with me and Sanchez, but he was being stubborn and disillusioned with The Man. Went home instead. We sort of fell out of touch for a while, when I was undercover. But ever since New York, hes called or sent me a text almost every day.”
“Hes not around here, then,” Zane concluded. “Else youd be barhopping with him.” Ty laughed softly. “You have that low an opinion of me, huh? Barhopping,” he joked in a warm voice as he leaned more against Zane. “Hes in Boston.”
Zane grinned. “Would he have gone bar maid hopping with you?” “He has in the past.”
Zane poked at Tys ribs gently.
Ty flinched and jabbed back at him. “Quit that,” he hissed. Zane could feel him rubbing at his ribs as if it had tickled, but he belatedly remembered Tys run-in with Tank and the bruising his ribcage had taken.
Zane patted Tys thigh in apology. “Thats great, still in touch with a friend from that far back.”
“Im thinking youd probably hate him,” Ty said thoughtfully, and then he laughed. “About as much as you hated me at first.” “And that was a lot,” Zane agreed. “Hed probably hate me too.” Ty made a dismissive noise and stood, taking a step away from the couch. “Are you hungry? Im going to start fidgeting if I dont find something to do soon.”