Touch & Geaux

“It was a maid?” Zane asked.



“Looks like. Way to ruin the post-orgasm buzz with paranoia, Garrett.”



Zane laughed. He stepped behind Ty and wrapped him up in the towel he had around his shoulders, pressing against Ty’s back. He kissed his neck. “Let me make it up to you then.”



Chapter 3



Zane hadn’t heard his real name spoken in almost six months. Two weeks after his wife’s funeral, Zane had begged for a new assignment, part of him hoping a change of scenery would make him want to kill himself less, and the other part hoping for an assignment so dangerous he wouldn’t have to do it himself. He’d been undercover in Miami ever since, nothing but pure luck and an overdeveloped sense of justice keeping him alive. He wanted to see these bastards go down, and he’d do whatever it took.



He’d found it hard to sleep when he’d first arrived in Miami, a combination of on-the-job jitters and missing his wife so much it felt like his soul was dying. He’d begun drinking to combat the dreams.



A few weeks after that, he’d started popping uppers to combat the hangovers, and sometimes even in a bid to mimic sobriety. He found that it worked for his cover, and it simultaneously dulled and sharpened his mind to the point that all he thought of was the case at hand, like a pen light for his brain. He would do anything to get the wife he’d lost, the life he’d lost, off his mind.



His life had become a high-wire act, and every breath brought him closer to death. He had begun to place bets on what would kill him first: the drinking, the drugs, or the cartel. Tonight was a soiree, held to celebrate the success of a deal Zane had been active on closing. He’d also been active on sending the details to his handler, and he lived in fear of being found out.



The rooftop garden in downtown Miami had been commandeered by the Miami boss, and no expense had been spared to entertain their new partners from Colombia. Alcohol and heroin flowed freely, mixed with multicolored designer drugs and neon blue drinks that looked like antifreeze and kind of tasted like it too. Expensive escorts, both male and female, roamed the crowd, offering their services.



“Xander,” a man said as he approached Zane. Zane smiled and turned toward his boss, accustomed to the fake name. His boss had a woman on each arm, both smiling and beautiful, eyes raking up and down Zane’s frame. “I have your yearly bonus,” el Jefe said with a sideways leer at one of the women.



Zane glanced at her, and his stomach turned at the thought of taking another woman to bed.



“Gracias, Jefe. But no thank you.”



“What is it?” el Jefe asked. “Her tits are perfect and her ass is sublime!” He smacked the escort’s ass to prove his point.



Zane laughed and nodded, though his mind was still desperately churning.



“Jefe, I think maybe I’m not his type,” the woman said with a pout.



Zane was nodding before he could think twice, latching on to that excuse like a lifeline.



El Jefe began laughing and slapped Zane’s shoulder. He dragged Zane along with him, taking him toward a corner where people sat drinking and laughing, some sprawled on the plush couches, others perched on the furniture, showing off their wares for anyone interested.



“You pick your own prize, Xander! Have fun tonight, you deserve it!” el Jefe said as he left Zane there and returned to the two women he would be taking for himself.



Zane watched him go, one eyebrow raised as he realized that nobody cared who he took to bed tonight as long as he didn’t rain on anyone else’s parade. He glanced toward the open bar, fully intending to drink himself into a stupor and pass out on one of the deck chairs around the pool.



He caught a man’s profile in his peripheral vision and quickly looked back to find him. For a brief moment he would have sworn it was the man he’d seen in New Orleans all those months ago. When he caught sight of him again, he realized his mistake. The resemblance was striking, though, and as Zane stared, the escort caught his eye and gave him a slow smile.



For the first time in months, that smile stirred something in Zane. He swallowed hard, recognizing the same feeling he’d noticed in New Orleans when the singer in the bowler hat had winked at him.



The man was making his way through the crowd, eyes on Zane, smile still soft and inviting. Zane licked his lips as he drew closer, noticing the way he moved through the crowd, appreciating the roll of his muscular shoulders. Yeah, Zane was definitely attracted to him.



The man stopped in front of him, and Zane stared, unable to get his mind to push past the drugs and alcohol clouding his thoughts.



“Do I know you?” Zane finally asked.



“Would you like to?”



Zane nodded. The man reached out and took his hand.



“Wait, so you picked out the guy in Miami because a dude in New Orleans winked at you the year before?” Ty asked, incredulous and almost offended by Zane’s story. They were sprawled sideways in the king-size bed, feet hanging off the edge.



Zane draped his knee over Ty’s thighs, his fingers idly running through the fuzz on Ty’s chest. “You have your type, I have mine.”



“My type is dark hair!”



Zane barked a laugh. “Your type is a gun.”



“Whatever, Zane.” Ty slid his arm under Zane’s neck and stretched, then pulled Zane closer to rest his head on Ty’s shoulder.



Zane grinned, running his finger down the center of Ty’s chest. “You remind me of him too.”



“Who, the escort?”



“No. Well, yeah. A little. But I mean you kind of remind me of the guy in the bowler hat. Just about every guy I’ve ever been with has reminded me of him in some way.”



Ty propped himself on his elbow and looked down at Zane, eyes narrowed. He seemed concerned. “Did you fuck me the first time because I reminded you of some random in a bar?”



“Sort of,” Zane muttered. He reached to drag his hand up Ty’s arm, appreciating the slide of his muscles. Ty frowned harder. “Do you think you knew him?”



Ty jerked. “What?”



“Is that why you’re obsessing?”



“I’m not obsessing.”



“You are a little bit. You know who it was, don’t you?”



“No,” Ty claimed as he pushed up.



Zane grabbed for him, laughing. “Okay, fine, no need to get defensive. Did you fuck me the first time because I had a gun?”



“Yes.” Ty leaned over and kissed him, then slid his leg between Zane’s, shifting his weight just enough to be on top of Zane again. “You had a gun. And knives. That’s a better reason than yours.”



“Not really.” Zane pulled his knee up to knock it against Ty’s hip. “Because mostly it was that you were hard and wet and begging me to.”



Ty grunted in protest, but Zane grabbed him and pulled him closer before he could turn away. He rolled him, pinning Ty beneath him to look down into his changeable eyes. “My type is you.”



“Well,” Ty finally said with a small smile. “I guess I owe the dude from New Orleans a thank-you if he was the one that convinced you to like dick.”



“I knew you’d see it my way.”



Ty rolled his hips and pulled his knee up higher, pushing his hard body against Zane’s. They’d already used up what little energy they had left tonight, though, and no matter how Ty moved, he wasn’t going to convince Zane’s cock to join the party.



Neither of them cared. They’d settled into a level of comfort with each other where simply curling up together and enjoying the warmth and familiarity was pleasurable.



Zane rested his body on Ty’s. He could feel Ty relaxing under him, feel his attention wavering. He propped himself on his elbows and gazed down into Ty’s eyes with a small smile.



“As soon as we’re done here, you’re going to go sit out on the balcony and smoke a cigar, aren’t you?”



Ty blinked at him. “How’d you know that?”



Zane lowered himself and cupped Ty’s cheek. “Because it’s how you mourn,” he whispered. “And I have a feeling that tonight you need to mourn.”



Ty blinked rapidly and seemed to be fighting to swallow past a lump in his throat. “I never did say good-bye to him.”



“I know.” Zane gave him a chaste kiss and then rolled off him. “I’m going to have a smoke with you. Then I’ll leave you to it.”



Ty nodded, but he reached out to grab Zane’s arm and stop him. He pushed up onto his elbow. “Zane.” His voice was hushed and pensive. “Sometimes I’m not capable of expressing how grateful I am for you.”



“What do you mean?”



Ty put a hand to his own chest, visibly struggling to find the right words. “For your . . . So few people have ever understood the way I work. In here.” He tapped his chest. “Thank you for . . . your insight.”



The words were sincere, but so unlike anything Ty usually said. Zane was struck dumb by the notion. He could only nod.



Ty rolled out of bed, breaking the spell of the moment. Zane lay stunned for another few seconds as Ty pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Then he sat on the end of the bed, watching Ty, letting his words settle somewhere deep. His fingers rested on the pile of fresh towels, and his eyes were drawn to one of them. He didn’t know why it bothered him, but they were folded wrong, different from the others in the bathroom.



“Jesus,” he whispered. Ty’s OCD was starting to rub off on him. He forced himself to get up and pull on his boxers and follow Ty to the balcony.



“You owe me a story, you know,” he said as soon as he stepped out.



“A story?”



“Yeah. I told you one of mine, you have to tell me one of yours.”



“None of mine are quite as lascivious as yours,” Ty mumbled as he settled into one of the chairs.



“Humor me. Tell me about the Marine you said you got involved with.”



“Nope.”



“Ty!”



“Nope, nope, nope.”



“Come on! Please?”



A smile spread across Ty’s face and he glanced sideways at Zane. He was teasing him, the bastard.



“As you wish,” Ty drawled, amused.



Zane brought out his pack of cigarettes, but Ty reached and placed a hand over them. Zane met his eyes, prepared to argue for his right to smoke while they were here, but then Ty pulled one of his cigars out and handed it to Zane instead.



“Cuban?” Zane asked.



“Only if you’re not a Fed.”



“Deal.”



“Where’s your lighter?” Ty asked.



“I lost it.”



Ty flopped his hands dramatically. “This is why we can’t have nice things, Zane!”



The scuff of a boot heel below drew Zane’s attention before he could respond. They both sat up straighter, peering at the edge of the balcony. Zane jumped when a hand reached up and grabbed onto the bottom of the railing. They were five stories high.



A second later, Nick’s head appeared over the edge. All Zane could do was blink at him.



Nick grinned and pulled himself up, rolling over the railing and landing with ease and silence. The man was an impressive specimen, Zane would give him that.



“What the hell, man?” Ty said.



“Maid parked a housekeeping cart in front of our room. We couldn’t get it to budge.”



“So climbing the building was easier than climbing over the cart?”



Nick laughed, then turned to peer over the railing. “Come on, son, you’re getting slow.”



“I really haven’t had occasion to climb buildings in the last couple years, okay?” a voice said from over the edge. “Why do you know how to do this so easily?”



Nick reached down and helped Kelly climb onto the balcony. Kelly leaned against the railing and took a deep breath as Nick clapped him on the shoulder. They both looked at Ty and Zane, grinning.



Ty glanced at Zane, not even trying to explain.



Nick pulled two bottles out of his pockets and offered them to Ty and Zane. The one he handed Zane was water. Zane glanced up at him, surprised. How the hell did Nick know he wouldn’t drink a beer? Nick merely gave him a gentle smile. He took another beer out of somewhere and sat in the chair beside Ty, kicking his feet onto the railing. Kelly did the same, settling in the chair on Zane’s other side and producing more bottles, setting them on the ground for later.



Nick took a long drink as Zane stared at his profile.



Nick smiled, not looking at them. “We knew you’d be out here eventually. After you got the knocking boots out of the way. The housekeeping around here is kind of aggressive, huh? They tried to get in our room twice after we got in.”



“Yeah, we got extra towels while we were in the . . . shower,” Zane said before he could think better of it.



“You dirty little bunnies,” Kelly mumbled, smiling.



Ty shook his head and looked at Nick. “How many floors did you just climb up?”



“Only two, why?”



Ty laughed and touched his beer bottle to Nick’s, and then Kelly’s, and then Zane’s water bottle before taking a drink.



“Were we interrupting?” Kelly asked.



“No, Ty was just getting ready to tell me about the Marine he was fucking back in the day,” Zane answered.



“Seriously?” Nick asked, voice breaking. “Jesus, did everyone know you were queer but me?”



“Shut up!”



Zane tossed his head back and laughed.



“I want to hear it,” Kelly said with obvious relish. He sat forward. “Was it someone we were stationed with?”



Nick muttered and jerked his head, but he didn’t comment further. Ty just rolled his eyes. He gave the other two men a wary glance. “I don’t want to hear any shit for this if you two listen in.”