Fish & Chips

Now.”



Zane raised one brow and slid his arm around Ty"s waist, turning them out to the game room. “By all means, lead the way.” Then he lowered his voice. “And who are we looking for?”



“Armen,” Ty hissed in answer. “If he sees me here with you right now, we"re both in deep shit.”



“I"ve not seen him tonight,” Zane said as he dropped his arm and moved to put himself between Ty and the bulk of the game room as they walked, just in case.



“I have,” Ty said grimly. He took Zane"s hand and began pulling him through the casino faster, barely slowing when someone got in his way.



Zane pressed his lips together hard as they wound their way out of the room and out into the promenade. Ty wouldn"t sound so grim if it didn"t have to do with a death threat. Del sure was a target. Zane quickly angled Ty off into the next hallway, which was thankfully empty. “We can cut around the back way to the library and avoid the public areas. What"s going on?”



Ty stopped and put his back to the nearest wall, looking over Zane"s shoulder first and then meeting Zane"s eyes. “I was sitting out on the deck watching the storm roll in,” he started in a low voice.



“Armen found me out there. The short of it is that he hired Del to get close to Corbin, to spy on him. He came to me to make certain I was still up to the job. Wanted to make sure I wasn"t too attached to my mark,” he spat out.



Zane swallowed on his surprise and cleared his throat. “He hired Del to spy on Corbin—on his own husband? And Del agreed to it?



Jesus.” He set his hands on his hips. “Can this case get any more fucked up?”



Ty closed his eyes in frustration. “Del is a merc, Zane,” he said through gritted teeth. “He"s not married to Corbin because he loves him. He married him because he was hired to seduce him. We have to contact Baltimore and let them know he"s dangerous.”



Zane went absolutely cold as fury threatened. Yes, Corbin Porter was a thief, a thug, and an asshole. But no one should be taken in and played like that. Not with marriage. Zane forced himself to take even breaths and look Ty over. “You"re okay?” he checked, just in case. For all they knew, Del turned tricks for Vartan Armen too.



“I"m pissed,” Ty answered emphatically. Whether he was angry for the same reason as Zane was anyone"s guess, though. “And I"m worried that if Del is able to contact Armen, our cover will be blown all to hell. Which is why we need to get to a computer.”



“Let"s go. If Del turned on Corbin, he might have weaseled his way out of custody,” Zane said as he turned to lead the way to the satellite Internet terminals in the library. Then a thought occurred and he stopped still. “Is it possible Armen was playing you? Trying to make you flip cover? That he already knows?”



“Anything"s possible at this point,” Ty muttered unhappily. “I played it as straight as I could.”



“I know you did,” Zane said, already trying to think of contingency plans. “Come on.”



They were in the library in under ten minutes, and Zane sat down at one of the terminals in the back. He quickly logged in, paid for the account time, and launched an anonymous browser session, and within a couple of minutes had gotten through the umpteen layers of encrypted and password-protected server gateways to launch a secure e-mail on the Bureau"s extended system.



As soon as the e-mail was sent off, Ty leaned over the computer desk and banged his head on the table. The little white ball on the tip of his Santa hat flopped over disconsolately. “That"s the most anticlimactic SOS I"ve ever seen sent,” he muttered against the table.



Zane chuckled wryly and leaned back in the chair. All they could do was wait here for an answer. “You should have brought your crossword puzzle book.”



Ty sighed heavily and sank to his knees, then turned and flopped onto the ground, effectively hiding under the desk so no one could see him there with Zane. He propped his elbows on his knees and looked up at Zane, ready to wait, and Zane reached over and pushed the tip of the hat off the desk.



It didn"t matter that they were in what might be a life-threatening situation. Zane"s thoughts focused sharply on just exactly what Ty could be doing while on his knees under that desk, if he"d just scoot over between Zane"s legs. It took a hell of a lot of willpower to try to banish that thought.



They watched each other silently for a couple of minutes before Zane spoke up, more to distract himself from the urge to get on his knees too. “Want to watch a football game?”



That got Ty"s attention. He perked up and leaned forward.



“How?” he asked eagerly.



Zane shrugged and turned back to the terminal. He minimized the e-mail window after making sure it would alert them to a new message and launched a new window. After several clicks, he was scanning through available streaming video from the NFL Network. “We"ve got Jacksonville versus Buffalo, Atlanta and Cleveland, Broncos at the Ravens, and… Arizona at New Orleans. Take your pick.”



“Give me Saints,” Ty demanded as he got to his knees again and turned to look up at the computer. His arms were folded over the edge of the table, and he stayed on the ground, content to kneel there at Zane"s knee.



“Not Baltimore?”



“Ravens are like step-children,” Ty answered as he squinted up at the screen. “I love them, but they"re still sleeping on the couch when the house is full.”



“So what team did you grow up watching? From West Virginia…



the Steelers?” It only took a few keystrokes to pay for the satellite access, and the game from the past Sunday popped up on the screen, just before kickoff.



“We were sort of a perfect storm,” Ty answered as he rested his chin on his hands. “With baseball it was all Braves all the way on TBS.



But football, we caught Cincinnati, Washington, Pittsburgh, Philly, Cleveland. Whoever was on network that week. I was partial to the Redskins. But I got attached to the Saints when I was in Louisiana.”



Another piece of Ty"s life casually revealed. “I never watched any team but the Cowboys before I lived in Miami,” Zane commented, storing away the new little bits of information about his partner.



“Well, I"ve always been a whore,” Ty said wryly.



Zane looked down at Ty in surprise, and his comment popped out before he thought about it. “Wow. I am so true to form.” Ty still razzed Zane for fucking around with prostitutes-turned-informants on the job, even though it had happened way before they ever met. Zane had been a serious mess at the time, but he sure wasn"t now.



Ty glared up at him briefly, but he didn"t take exception to the comment. Not vocally, anyway. He just pointed at the screen and wagged his fingers urgently.



Zane turned up the volume as the players lined up. “There you go,” he said, happy with himself.



Ty patted Zane"s knee, appearing just as pleased, and he left his hand resting there as he watched the screen devotedly. Zane smiled and spent just as much time watching Ty as he did the game and the minimized tab.



They were partway through the second quarter before the little tab started flashing.



“About damn time,” Ty said as he pointed at the flashing icon.



“Click it, click it!”



Zane paused the video and clicked over to the e-mail. He opened the RE: and started reading:



Thanks for the update. The Punch and Judy show’s still on.



“That"s it?” Ty asked incredulously. “I"m gonna kill Mac when we get home.”



Zane leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “I"m certainly starting to feel like a damn puppet,” he muttered.



Ty sighed loudly, and his shoulders slumped. “Well,” he drew out reluctantly. He looked up at Zane with a shrug. “I guess we keep going.” His fingers tightened against Zane"s knee as he pushed himself off the floor.



Zane watched him stand. “Aren"t you forgetting something?”



Ty looked down at him with wide eyes and patted his pockets absently, then nodded as if remembering what he was forgetting. He bent over to kiss Zane squarely. When he stood back up, he said,



“Saints win it 17-9. Come on.” And he turned and started toward the exit.



It took Zane ten keystrokes to shut down the terminal, and he was on Ty"s heels out the door.



Ty led the way to a lounge some ways from the promenade. It wasn"t as busy as many of the bigger restaurants. Zane glanced around at the low lighting, leather couches, and tiny tables, and he wondered what Ty was thinking.



“Are we having a snack?” Zane asked as Ty walked to a grouping of overstuffed armchairs in an out-of-the-way corner.



“I am keeping away from places I know Armen might be right now,” Ty answered as he raised his hand to get the attention of a waiter. “And….” He hesitated and looked at Zane worriedly. “I told you I"d go over some tricks with the drinking on duty. I figure now"s as good a time as any. Because I sure as hell need a drink.”



Zane raised a brow, then shrugged, and sat down. “Sounds good to me.”



“What can I get for you, gentlemen?” a waiter asked as he appeared at their chairs.



Ty held up two fingers. “Two glasses, bucket of ice, bottle of water, and a Scotch, please,” he rattled off quickly before Zane could even open his mouth. The waiter nodded and moved away.



Ty appeared unsettled, so Zane decided to sit close to him. He settled in the chair next to Ty, crossed his legs easily, and leaned toward his lover. “We"re not in view of the door,” he pointed out. “You can ease up a little.”



Ty glanced at the entryway, then met Zane"s eyes. He appeared somber and worried, the odd look in his eyes one that was singularly arresting. Zane held his gaze for a long moment before reaching out to touch Ty"s forearm and rub it gently as he waited for Ty to calm. His partner was usually pretty laid back—despite his innate twitchiness—



but when Ty got riled up, it could be a difficult proposition to gear him down. Zane was all too aware of how he"d been contributing to Ty"s most recent stress.



Ty took a deep breath and leaned closer to him. “You still want to do this?”



Zane frowned a little. “Why wouldn"t I?”



Ty smiled slightly. “Okay. We both know you have to drink sometimes to sell a cover. And I think we"re in agreement that you shouldn"t. At all. A friend of mine taught me some tricks years ago for those situations. I… didn"t really handle them well at first.”



Zane thought that sounded a bit ominous. “Okay,” he replied, dragging the word out a bit.



Ty continued to look at him guardedly.



“What?” Zane asked, a bit exasperated. “I"m not going to make fun of you. I"ve certainly got no place throwing stones about this.”



Ty worked his jaw back and forth and then snorted. He was smiling as he looked away. “I"m a goofy drunk,” he admitted.



Zane didn"t see what was so bad about that. “That would affect work, yeah, but why is that so awful in general?”



Ty laughed. “One day I"ll show you,” he promised, looking back at Zane with a hint of that old mischievous sparkle in his eyes.



That was promise enough to make Zane smile and relax. “All right. On with the lesson.”



“First: always order extra ice. Let it melt in your drink and dilute it.” As Ty talked the waiter returned with a tray and the requested items. The tiny table at their knees was more for show than anything, but he managed to fit the three glasses on it. Ty placed the ice bucket and the carafe of water on the ground. Once they were alone again, Ty said, “And order the next round before you"re done. The waiter will clear out your old drink when he brings your new one.”



“Makes sense,” Zane commented as he watched Ty move things around.



Ty took the glass of Scotch and wedged it into the seat beside his leg. Then he moved the remaining two glasses around on the table and poured water into both of them, filling both almost to the brim. He picked one up and mockingly toasted Zane with it.



“The best way to stay sober is to be a sloppy drunk,” he said under his breath. He jerked his hand to the side and sat forward suddenly, as if he was excited about what he was about to say. Water sloshed out of his glass onto the floor. His eyes were bigger as he grabbed for Zane with his free hand. “Be very excited when you talk,”



he said emphatically, waving his hand again.



Zane tried to hold back his smile, because really, this was supposed to be serious. He nodded piously instead. Ty held his glass up to show him that nearly a quarter of the water was gone already.



He drank down a few gulps of the water until only a third of it remained, then he set it on the table. “Best way to drain your glass is to spill,” he said as he reached for the glass of Scotch and took a sip of it.



He set it on the ground at his feet. Then he looked up at Zane. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Porter,” he said suddenly, half standing and sticking his arm out as if he was about to shake Zane"s hand. He knocked the water glass over with his hand, sending it skidding off the table into Zane"s lap.



Zane could only flinch as the water splashed over his pants and the glass thumped to the floor. “And hope the guy doesn"t want you to pay for his dry cleaning,” he said wryly as he brushed at his thighs.



“Effective, though.”



“Sorry about that!” Ty exclaimed, moving closer and grabbing for the nearest napkin and helping Zane dry his lap. Zane noticed he"d even added a slur to his words as he mumbled apologies.



“You can help me like that as long as you want,” Zane drawled as Ty dragged the napkin across the front of his pants. “And I"ll order you another drink,” he pointed out.