Fish & Chips

That thought shakily in mind, Zane spoke. “They both are,” he agreed with no doubt at all.



“What about you, Mr. Armen? Why did you not bring someone with you? Perhaps someone as stunning as my Norina… or as handsome as Mr. Porter?” Bianchi asked.



“Beautiful people are in general a distraction,” Armen said stiffly.



“And more trouble than they are worth.” He made no effort to qualify the statement or excuse their spouses from the broad generalization. He glanced out at them, now dancing a more vigorous version of the tango as each grew familiar with how the other moved.



If Lorenzo Bianchi had known the fake Del Porter on the dance floor was actually bisexual and had the reputation Ty did at home, there was no way he"d sit passively by while his wife danced with him like that. Zane found himself swallowing on no small amount of jealousy as well, especially upon seeing the real enjoyment on Ty"s face. Ty and Norina grinned widely at each other as they moved in graceful box steps and the occasional twirl or dip.



“A distraction, perhaps,” Zane started before forcing himself to turn back to the table. “But also motivation to conduct a successful business.”



“Leave it to the American to skip the small talk and move right on to the business,” Bianchi remarked bemusedly. He picked up his glass, holding it up to Zane. “I salute your ability to ignore beautiful things in favor of business.”



Zane nodded once and leveled an expectant look at Armen.



“While they"re otherwise occupied, no time like the present.”



“To business, then,” Armen murmured as he raised his own glass.



He and Bianchi touched their glasses together.



After a moment"s hesitation under Bianchi"s expectant eye, Zane went against his earlier decision and lifted the lowball glass in front of him from the dark blue napkin. “To successful business.”



The music hit a crescendo, and there was a smattering of applause from the people watching as one or two of the couples attempted some difficult dips or spins. A glance back saw Norina almost parallel to the ground, one dainty hand trailing the shining wood surface as the other gripped Ty"s elbow. Her feet were between Ty"s legs, sliding easily as Ty pulled her up and into an impressive spinning turn that required some fancy footwork on both their parts.



Zane"s curiosity was in overdrive: where the hell had Ty learned to dance like that? They would be having a talk about this. Zane lifted the glass halfway to his lips but stopped as he continued to watch, wanting… no, aching to be…. After a long moment"s feeling, he shook his head and turned back to the table, letting the lowball glass thump gently to the table as the music faded back into the slow strand of the last vestiges of the tango. He sure did have his occasional flights of fantasy, Zane reflected with no small amount of regret. Dancing a tango with Ty definitely qualified.



“I have arranged for a meeting tomorrow, during the shore excursions,” Armen told them as the music finally ended. He spoke quickly, as if to get it out of the way before the other two returned to the table. “We are to be taken to the objects, allowed to examine them, and then we will negotiate a price for any we deem worthy.”



He had just finished with this curt explanation when Ty and Norina came gliding back to the table.



“Oh, how wonderful!” Norina was exclaiming, hanging onto Ty"s arm and practically dragging him. “I have not danced in such a fashion in too long! We must do it again!”



Zane stood once again with the other men, observing the formalities, and waited for Ty to seat Norina and rejoin him. “Did you enjoy yourself, doll?” he asked, a little more seriously than he"d actually planned.



Ty"s face was flushed, though whether from the exertion or from embarrassment Zane couldn"t be sure. “Yes,” Ty answered curtly. The tone was enough to let Zane know he was blushing and not merely overheated.



Zane slid his arm around Ty"s waist and pulled him in close for a moment. “You looked incredible,” he said honestly. It was good luck that it was in character.



Ty shivered violently. He turned his head and exposed his neck to Zane"s lips as he spoke. “Shut up,” he whispered, flustered yet slightly amused. Zane chuckled and decided to let up. Otherwise he"d pay for it later. So he pulled Ty"s chair out for him instead, but his hands still itched to touch.



“Well done, my lovelies,” Bianchi said as Ty seated himself and Norina beamed at her husband. “Del, I thank you for sparing my poor feet.”



“My pleasure,” Ty responded with a weak attempt at a smile.



Norina turned her charming smile on Ty and began speaking rapidly in Italian to him, obviously too excited to remain in English.



Ty was merely nodding in apparent agreement to whatever she said as he reached for his whiskey. But Zane didn"t want to wait, and he knew getting Ty out on the dance floor wasn"t really a viable option.



So he caught Ty"s hand and lifted it to his lips for a soft kiss along Ty"s knuckles. He leaned very close, brushing his lips against Ty"s cheekbone as he whispered. “How about another blush so they don"t suspect I"m telling you about the meet.”



Ty glanced down slightly and then turned just enough that his breath was warm against Zane"s cheek. He put his drink back down, so distracted that he almost missed the blue napkin. “Is it soon?” he asked softly.



“Tomorrow,” Zane breathed. “On shore.” He leaned a little closer, draping his arm over the back of Ty"s chair. “Maybe you can go shopping,” he murmured.



Ty made a strangled noise in the back of his throat before pulling back and looking away from Zane with a sharp shake of his head. He followed it by stamping hard on Zane"s foot. Zane stifled a pained gasp and a grimace. Bastard. Ty wanted to be in the market when the deal went down, didn"t he? Zane jabbed Ty in the ribs with two fingers and kicked his shin in return while starting to settle back in his chair.



Ty jerked and sat forward too hard, jostling the table and the glass he"d again been reaching for. The hundreds of dollars worth of Scotch in his glass splattered everywhere, soaking the linen tablecloth and the majority of it flowing over the edge onto Ty"s chest and lap.



He stood quickly with a curse under his breath. Norina exclaimed loudly and reached with her napkin to help him. Zane sat back quickly, managing to avoid all but a small splatter across one pants leg, and he had to stifle a laugh. He hadn"t expected Ty to react so violently, but maybe he was in a worse mood than Zane suspected.



Ty convinced Norina not to help him dry off, instead taking her napkin with thanks and then turning narrowed eyes on Zane, as if it had been his fault. “Excuse me, won"t you?” he said to the rest of the table through gritted teeth. “Order me fish, darling. I"ll be back,” he snapped at Zane as he turned and made his way out of the dining room quickly.



Only after he was out of sight did Zane realize Ty had probably taken advantage of the heavy tuxedo to hide a weapon on himself for the first time all week. He couldn"t take the jacket off—they"d see his gun.



Ty wouldn"t let this go without payback, and Zane resigned himself to his fate with a small smirk. It had been worth it.



Chapter 12



TY DIDN"T bother changing once he got to their cabin. He did take off his coat and toss it on the couch as he moved past it. After a moment"s thought, he also regretfully pulled their one gun out of his waistband and set it down on a side table. He didn"t have a holster to carry it safely, and if he had the bad luck to get caught in Armen"s room, having a weapon would only increase his chances of being shot.



Muttering, he dug into their luggage and found the portable scanner Knight had outfitted them with before they"d left Baltimore. He shoved it into one of the deep pockets of his satin-lined tuxedo trousers and headed for the balcony. He tried not to think about just how badly it would hurt to smack into the water so many stories below as he hoisted himself up onto the slippery railing. His knuckles were white as he gripped the thick partition that he would need to swing around to reach Armen"s balcony.



He was beginning to wish Zane had objected to this plan.



Ty took a deep breath, dug his fingers under the slight lip at the edge of the partition, and swung his foot out over open air. He threw the weight of his body with it, knowing the railing on that side would be just as slippery and damp as his side was and hoping to propel himself over it rather than bouncing off of it and toppling into the sea.



The strategy worked, sort of.



It wasn"t nearly as difficult as he"d imagined it would be, and he went sailing over the balcony and landed in an ungraceful heap on the deck.



He popped to his feet and looked around, straightening his shirt and nodding. “I"m okay,” he said to the deck chairs. He cleared his throat and tried not to laugh at himself, glad that this was a solo mission. Zane would never have let him live it down if he"d seen that nimble bit of action.



He headed for the glass doors of the balcony, confident that they"d be unlocked. No one ever locked their balcony doors, trusting in gravity to keep intruders out. So he was nonplussed when he found the glass sliding door not only locked but barred with a piece of wood.



“Son of a….” He looked around for something to counter the low-tech obstacle. He didn"t want to leave evidence of his being here, so throwing a piece of furniture through the door was not a good idea. He slipped out his knife and knelt in front of the door, sliding it through the crack and easily tripping the lock. He was able to get the door open an inch or so, but then the piece of wood stopped it. It appeared to be a thick cord of balsa wood, most likely taken from a piece of decorative furniture in the suite. Ty slipped his hand through the crack and pushed with all his strength, levering himself against the wall. Nothing budged for a moment, save for perhaps a tendon or two in his elbow that wasn"t supposed to stretch that way, but then the wood gave in to the pressure.



It didn"t so much snap as it imploded, bursting into little shreds and causing the door to fly open. Ty pitched forward as soon as the door was no longer there to take his weight and fell face-first into the deck.



Again.



He pushed himself up with a grumbled “I hate this case” and crawled into the stateroom.



ZANE settled back into his seat after a small smile at Norina and reached for his water glass. Bianchi waved down a waiter, who promised to bring more drinks immediately, as well as their salads.



Zane wondered if he"d have to come up with any sort of ploy to keep Armen here, since they were literally starting dinner.



“Mr. Porter, could I trouble you a moment?” Armen"s voice broke into Bianchi"s ongoing monologue about the relative benefits of wine and a middle-aged man"s health.



Zane glanced at Armen, curious. “Sure.”



“If you"re not going to enjoy that Scotch, it"s a shame for it to go to waste,” Armen said. He sounded a little harried.



With a small shrug, Zane waved a hand at it. “Be my guest.”



Armen nodded his thanks and picked up the lowball glass from in front of Zane, immediately taking a strong slug out of the glass. Zane watched, somewhat intrigued. He didn"t remember ever seeing Armen drink, even during the poker games.



When he set the glass down, he actually smiled wanly at Zane.



“Such business often causes me undue stress,” he explained, almost embarrassed to admit it. Zane blinked at him but offered him a benign smile.



Their salads arrived a few minutes later; ten minutes had passed since Ty left. Zane joined in a new conversation as Norina talked about upcoming dance classes on board, but he kept an eye on Armen, who started fidgeting slightly. And it had to be a trick of the subtle lighting in the restaurant, because when Armen abruptly dropped his salad fork, Zane would have sworn the man was pale and sweating.



“Mr. Armen, are you all right?” Zane asked with a frown.



Armen cleared his throat twice before pushing back from the table. “I"m afraid I"m not feeling well. Please… excuse me,” he said softly, and even as Zane said, “Wait,” he was up and moving woodenly out of the restaurant.



“I hope he is not seasick,” Norina said.



Zane shook his head. It had only been about twenty minutes. Not enough time. Now Armen and his two trailing bodyguards were on their way back to his cabin, and Zane had no way to warn Ty.



“I think I"m going to go check on Del before the entrees arrive,”



Zane murmured, placing his napkin next to his nearly untouched salad as he stood.



“Hurry back. You do not want your dinner to get cold. And bring my Del back with you!” Norina bid him. Zane nodded as he walked away, hoping he could catch up enough to follow Armen back to his stateroom—Zane could shoulder his way in past the bodyguards if he had to.



If Ty needed him, he would be there.



TY SAT behind the large desk in one part of the suite, flipping through documents and reading over them quickly. He was using the portable scanner to make copies of some of the papers, but he knew he didn"t have time to copy every one. He was trying to glean critical information and determine which ones might be pertinent while keeping an ear toward the front of the suite.



His head jerked up when he heard a scratching at the door, then the distinctive sound of the key card being swiped. He glanced around the stateroom furtively, looking for a place to hide. There was no way he"d get out the door and around the balcony partition in time without being seen.



He ducked behind the desk and cursed inwardly when he realized there was no back to the damn thing. He saw a pair of legs enter the stateroom and several more in the hallway. Armen and his bodyguards.



*** Copyright: Novel12.Com