Armed & Dangerous

“I believe I’ve just discovered why you and I hate each other so much.”



Ty snorted.



“I’m serious. You and I were the same person at one juncture. You took one path, I another.”



“Are you saying you’re my evil twin?” Ty asked. His voice was too tired to have any sarcasm in it.



Julian pursed his lips thoughtfully.



“Fuck it, just…. You take this side, I’ll take that one, see if we can keep our arms from going to sleep.”



Julian lay down obediently, disturbed and distracted by his new realizations. Outwardly he and Zane Garrett were very alike. But perhaps deeper down, Julian and Ty Grady were more alike than either man was comfortable with.



As if to accentuate his thoughts, the fire alarm blared to life again, and he and Ty both shot up in the bed before either could curtail the instinct. They sat in bed together, tense and looking at each other in the darkness, until the alarm cut off.



“I hate Ohio,” Ty muttered before he flopped back to the bed.



“Amen,” Zane and Cameron both said from the other bed.



ZANE examined himself in the bathroom mirror as he towel-dried his hair and then tossed the towel onto the counter. Placing both hands on the vanity, he leaned forward, taking in the beard and exhausted eyes. Ty was right: the beard didn’t suit him.



He was also convinced that going on short sleep for days on end with his mileage was not conducive to his health or his looks.



“Looking good, Garrett,” he mumbled. He picked up and shook out his new Henley before sliding an arm into it. He was putting the same clothes back on, but they weren’t a mess. And after a shower he felt much better. He mentally patted himself on the back for picking up some deodorant, toothbrushes, and toothpaste when he was at that drug store in Chicago. It seemed like weeks ago.



They were coming up on four days that they’d been on the road. They had been long days, and even Ty’s normally amusing antics were wearing on his nerves. Having to constantly keep his gun pretty much trained on Julian didn’t help. Zane was thankful he’d gotten at least a little bit of time alone with Ty and some sleep, or he’d really be going nuts.



He smoothed down the shirt before opening the bathroom door. He was surprised to find not only Ty but also Julian standing right there at the door when it opened. Before he could react, Ty reached out and grabbed his arm, yanking him forward and snapping one half of a pair of handcuffs on his wrist.



He found himself handcuffed to their prisoner, who was looking at him with a sardonic smile.



“There!” Ty said happily.



Zane stared at him, incredulous, before reaching out and popping him upside the back of the head. “What the fuck?”



Ty danced away from him so he wouldn’t risk another smack. “I couldn’t find anything solid to attach him to, and you won’t let me drug him,” he said as he rubbed at his head. “And you’re, you know… solid enough.”



“You can cuff him to the damn toilet for all I care, but not to me!” He pulled his wrist up and shook it along with Julian’s arm. “Give me the key.”



“I must agree,” Julian said.



The smile still on Ty’s face made Zane want to wipe it away. Whether with a voracious kiss or a serious kick to the teeth, Zane hadn’t yet decided.



Ty held up the keys to the cuffs and shook his head as he put them into his jeans pocket. “We’ll get you something from Wendy’s,” he told them in what might have passed for a consoling tone.



Zane swiped out at Ty, but his partner took another step back and Zane was attached to the immovable object that was Julian, so he couldn’t grab Ty before he edged around to the door. Cameron waited there already, looking uncertain and almost amused.



“What if they kill each other?” Cameron asked Ty. He sounded serious. Zane glanced at Julian, feeling the annoyance bubble just below a boil. He was probably right to be worried.



Ty idly scratched at his chin, looking at them. He glanced sideways at Cameron. “Should we place bets?”



Zane could hear Julian grinding his teeth.



“You—” Zane cut himself off before delivering a threat that wouldn’t come from a partner. A working partner.



Cameron peered at Julian for a long moment before tipping his head to one side and considering Zane as well. “I bet there won’t be blood when we come back. And if I win, Julian and I get a night uncuffed in a bed.”



“Cameron!” Julian said, sounding shocked.



Ty considered for a moment, then reached out to shake Cameron’s hand. “Bet.”



Cameron shrugged and looked at Julian apologetically. “Now, don’t throw the bet,” he said, lips pressing down like he was hiding a laugh.



“You two are real comedians,” Zane said, lifting his hand to point at Ty in accusation before remembering it was attached to Julian, and he shook it with a frustrated growl before looking at Ty through narrowed eyes. “You know that threat you make when I really piss you off with the puns? That’s coming your way. Big time.” Meaning Ty wouldn’t be getting fucked for some time to come.



Ty smirked, as if he looked forward to the challenge. “How’s the Benadryl option looking now, Nurse Ratched?” he asked. Then he jerked his head at the door, and he and Cameron exited before Zane or Julian could threaten them again.



Julian was silent for a long while, eyes narrowed, staring at the door. Zane figured they were having equally homicidal thoughts, not that it made him feel any better. If Ty didn’t bring him back a damn Frosty, he was tearing a piece out of his ass, and not in a way Ty would enjoy.



Maybe. Zane wrinkled his nose. He knew damn well he’d be all over Ty as soon as they had at least half an hour uninterrupted time alone. He could fuck Ty twice in that amount of time if he was really motivated, and Zane was really motivated now. Just the fact that sex was his first thought instead of throttling his partner was evidence enough.



Julian finally cleared his throat and moved his hand, making the handcuffs jangle. He looked sideways at Zane, his expression speculative.



Zane raised an eyebrow and waited for what was sure to be a sarcastic remark veiled in icy politeness. It was Julian’s style.



“I’m really starting to hate him,” Julian said instead.



Zane snorted, thinking of last night and his thoughts about Ty and Julian mirroring himself and Ty when they first met. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he muttered. He raised their cuffed wrists and frowned at them.



“I could pick it if we had something suitable,” Julian said as he turned his wrist over, taking Zane’s arm with it.



“So could I, but Grady knows that too,” Zane said as he looked around the room, casting about for options. “He’s very thorough.”



“Yes, I was forced to drag along behind him as he rid the room of every single shiny thing,” Julian said. He looked around the room anyway, trying to find something Ty might have missed. “Shall we sit?” he finally asked dejectedly.



“I can guarantee he won’t be getting takeout,” Zane said under his breath as he turned in place and looked at seating options. There were the beds, one chair at the table, and the low dresser in a pinch. And as much as he wanted to be cranky, Zane knew being an asshole wouldn’t make the time pass any faster. “Sure. Take your pick.”



“Bed,” Julian said under his breath as he took a step toward the closest one. Zane followed grudgingly, glad there wasn’t anyone else here to see this. Eyes narrowing, Zane looked to the desk, where he’d left his gun. It was gone.



“He took my gun!” Zane said in outrage. That son of a bitch! He knew how Zane felt about being unarmed.



“You could pose that he took my gun,” Julian countered with a hint of amusement.



“So he’s already got more than his fair share,” Zane said as he thumped down next to Julian on the edge of the bed.



Julian sat straight and proper, his back and shoulders rigid. He didn’t feel tense, though. Merely sitting there to wait. Zane wondered if he’d looked like that, all stick up his ass, when he’d met Ty. With a sniff, he stretched out his legs toward the dresser and looked at the clock.



Julian’s lack of movement was almost a novelty after so many months of being close to Ty. It was like sitting beside a stone statue. When he finally did move, it was to cock his head and look at the door.



“I believe they’re back,” he said, voice laced with surprise.



Zane frowned as he glanced up. It hadn’t even been enough time to get there on foot, much less have food and be back. “He must have forgotten something.” But that didn’t sit right. Ty wouldn’t have forgotten something when he’d planned like this. Zane pulled back his legs to stand, feeling uneasy.



As soon as he’d gained his feet, the flimsy door was kicked in and a burst of cold air flowed into the room as two men charged in. Zane didn’t even think; he snatched Cameron’s leather Dopp kit up from the dresser and backhanded it as hard as he could at the first man’s face. He didn’t know who they were or what they wanted, but their method of entry was enough reason to take them out first and ask questions later. Leatherface threw up his hands with a yelp, and the Dopp kit stopped his headlong charge as it busted open, scattering its contents all over.



Zane’s actions pulled Julian off-balance, and they stumbled as he fell into Zane. Julian righted himself just in time to pull a hand up and block a punch from a second man; then he kicked out and sent the attacker sprawling to the floor. That put Julian between Zane and Leatherface, so Zane rammed the heel of his shoes into Rugburn’s gut.



Julian turned with his movement, their backs against each other. He was jerked back when the handcuffs and Zane’s arm kept him from moving further, but he managed a roundhouse punch at Leatherface before he was pulled the other way and stumbled at Zane’s side. Zane grunted as their shoulders collided, and he purposely dropped his left arm so Julian could move it. But the few seconds of distraction gave Rugburn a window of opportunity, and he raised a leg to kick out, his shoe catching Zane’s jaw. The recoil sent Zane stumbling back a step, jerking the chain taut between him and Julian, and the backs of Zane’s knees hit the other bed.



Rugburn stood to attack again, but Julian pulled Zane’s arm, and the chain between them, hard at his neck. They caught him just right, and there was a sickening crunch as Rugburn crumpled to the floor.



But Leatherface had gained his feet. He held a gun pointed at Zane’s face, his eyes narrowing as he looked at them each in turn.



“Which one of you is Cross?”



Zane stopped, his free hand curled into a fist, and gave Leatherface a once-over. Suit and tie, leather shoes, standard holster under his suit jacket, plain brown trench coat. His appearance screamed government agent, though Zane doubted that. Why would another agent break in on their assignment? Which meant freelancers, especially since they were looking for Cross.



Julian pointed at Zane in answer to the question. Zane smacked his hand. “You’re interfering in an FBI investigation. I suggest you stand down,” he told Leatherface.



The man shook his head. “This is a national security matter.” He turned the gun toward Julian. “You’re coming with me.”



Julian struck out at him so quickly it was easy to think it was imagined. He grabbed the gun and pulled the slide, his free hand moving in a flash, and the gun fell apart in Leatherface’s hand. Julian swung at him with the slide, hitting him in the temple and dropping him in a heap.



“You’re standing too close,” he said to the unconscious man.



Zane couldn’t help but admire Julian’s speedy reaction. He’d have to remember that trick with the slide. “That was… impressive,” he said as he touched his hurting chin. His fingers came away bloody from his lip.



Julian turned to look at him. He stared for a moment and then sighed. “Cam lost his bet. Let’s see if one of these two has a set of handcuff keys, shall we?”



“National security,” Zane muttered as he crouched down next to the man they’d hit across the throat and checked for a pulse.



Julian had to bend over and hang his arm so Zane could do it. “Dead?”



“No, but he may wish he was when he wakes up,” Zane said, eyeing the vivid bruise already coming up across the man’s throat. He started searching the pockets of the man’s trench and came up with a wallet. What he saw when he flipped it open made his stomach turn.



Julian hummed. “Told you,” he said evenly. “We should go find Cameron and Grady.”



Zane studied the Langley entry ID, and from what he could tell, it was legit. He dropped it, pulled the man’s gun and set it on the floor next to him, then dug out a set of keys. “You going to tell me what’s really going on now?” he asked as he reached over to claim the ammunition cartridge from the other gun. They were both standard-issue Glocks, the same as his own.



“I’d rather wait to see if I can escape from you first,” Julian answered candidly.



“You probably could,” Zane said as he picked up the gun and stood, keys also in hand. “That doesn’t help Cameron. Or the fact that the CIA wants your ass.”



“You’re right, of course. So unlock us and let’s go.”



Zane turned and calmly pressed the business end of the gun against Julian’s midsection, the pommel brushing his own, they stood so close. “If they came at us here, we can be sure they went after Ty and Cameron too.”



Julian didn’t seem perturbed by the gun barrel in his belly. He glanced around the room and pursed his lips. “Cameron’s bag is still mostly packed. Grab it and we’ll go.”