“That would be me,” Zane said.
“Forgive me for stating the obvious, but you dont appear to be the designated-driver type right now,” Kelly said wryly. Ty nudged Nicks elbow, and when Nick glanced at him, Ty put his thumb and index finger out like he was holding a shot glass and tipped it toward his mouth. Nick nodded in understanding.
“A drink is the last thing I need right now,” Zane said as he leaned back in his chair. Nick clucked his tongue. So Tys partner was an alcoholic. That was uncomfortable. He searched for something to say, watching his companions closely. Zane seemed okay with the topic, but Tys shoulders had tensed, and he was looking at the table devotedly. Nick knew the posture well, had seen Ty assume it many times. He was preparing to defend a friend.
“So,” Nick drew out, “Chinese laundry, huh?”
Zane rapped his knuckles on the table. “Three guys and a dog walk into a Chinese laundry—” he started, phrasing it like a joke. “Dude,” Ty interrupted again. “I told them before we went in: that dog was eyeing me funny!” Nick chuckled as the others started in on Ty. Nick waited until Ty turned his head to look at him, meeting his hazel eyes, then reached out and patted his shoulder consolingly. Only the two of them and the man whod debriefed them knew why Ty didnt favor dogs.
Zane continued with the story, telling it well and drawing chuckles from the guys and a dirty look from Ty. It was funny as hell, really, and Nick could imagine Ty and a dog both ending up in a vat of suds and fighting over who could scramble out first. Of course, the dog had won. Digger launched into another story right after, and the laughter continued. When drinks were delivered, the waitress brought a Coke, too, and she moved to scoot around the table to put it in front of Zane.
“Thank you, darlin,” Ty drawled. She winked at him and let her hand rest on Zanes arm as she moved away. Zane lifted his head and sent a smile in that direction. Obviously, they came here a lot. Nick watched Ty for a minute longer. Ty rarely went drinking with his coworkers. Zane Garrett was obviously his friend, and a close one at that.
Zane set his hand on the table and shifted it slightly. He didnt even say anything. Ty continued talking to Digger as he moved the glass of Coke against Zanes fingers. The corner of Zanes mouth quirked up as he picked up the drink.
Nick was surprised to find that Ty and Zane reminded him of Ty and… him. He was also surprised by the spike of jealousy. Knowing he could watch Zane without being seen as long as Ty was occupied, Nick observed him for a while longer. He was a good-looking guy, perhaps five years older than Ty and himself, maybe more. He had his head cocked to one side, the one ear turned toward Ty, and a small smile played on his lips as Ty talked about something there was no way Zane knew anything about, since it was an old line from their Recon days.
It had to feel good to be included, being blind and lost. He glanced at Ty and wondered if Ty had gone through the “it could have been me” panic. The Ty he knew wouldnt tolerate the darkness—or the helplessness—well at all, whereas Zane, by all appearances, seemed subdued but in fairly good spirits. At least Nick hoped this was subdued. He couldnt imagine Ty staying with a stick-up-his-ass partner for long.
Nick was lost in thought when he realized Ty had leaned toward him and asked him something. He cleared his throat, looking at Ty with wide eyes. “What?”
“Are you okay?” Ty asked incredulously. “Because Owens been bitching about the Sox for a solid five minutes, and you aint drawn down on him yet.”
“I left my gun at your place,” Nick answered defensively. He set his empty bottle on the table and took Tys out of his hand. Ty didnt even protest, just held up his hand to order another round.
“Are we for or against the Red Sox?” Zane asked curiously. He had leaned an elbow on the table and shifted forward, head still tipped toward Ty.
A round of jeers came from the others, and Nick had to close his eyes and wave Zane off. “School him.”
“O is from Boston,” Ty explained to Zane, pointing at Nick. “Its Red Sox or die unless you can prove a deep affiliation with another club or provide a compelling reason to hate the designated hitter. Or kick his ass.”
“Preach it, baby,” Nick said happily, giving Ty a closed fist in the air. “Owen is, however, a Yankees fan, and they both carried extra ammunition on missions for „accidents,” Ty went on, using his fingers to accentuate the sarcasm.
“I grew up watching ballgames in Arlington,” Zane said, sounding greatly amused. “Affiliation doesnt get any deeper than being born and bred Texan.”
“Rangers, huh?” Nick said, rolling the word around as if giving them thought. “Sure, I guess theyre harmless enough.”
Owen gave them both a raspberry.
Ty groaned softly and raised his hand to stop them. “Can we avoid this tonight?”
“Gradys become a pacifist,” Digger observed, clearly disapproving.
“He just lost his balls, is all,” Owen corrected.
“Dont you remember holding them for me?” Ty asked him without skipping a beat. “The Rangers are actually looking good this season,” Zane said. He was looking up, and though his eyes were unfocused, he had the look about him of someone deliberately feeding the fire. Nick liked that in a man.
“God, Zane, please,” Ty tried. Nick reached out and slid his arm around Tys shoulders, squeezing his arm hard. He wouldnt start a baseball-induced brawl in the middle of dinner. Again.
Zane smiled and laughed, and it sounded real, not put on. Nick thought Zane might not be too bad a guy, if he enjoyed getting a rise out of Ty as much as the rest of the team did. But Ty didnt react to Zanes ribbing the same way he reacted to theirs. He didnt growl or bring out that rapier wit Nick knew was so deft. He merely looked sideways at Zane and huffed, then went back to his bottle of beer. Interesting.
After four more rounds of beer, some appetizers, several stories, and a lot of friendly squabbling, Digger stopped the pretty waitress to ask where the best place to leave his shoes was.
“Oh God, here we go,” Owen muttered.
“Whats going on?” Zane asked, directing the question toward Ty. Ty just shook his head. He was leaning back on his bar stool, propped against the wall behind him. He rubbed at his eyes as if the beer was having its way with him, which was unusual in Nicks vast experience. He must have really been working hard if he couldnt make it past half a dozen rounds. He had obviously forgotten that Zane couldnt see him.