“Oh, Jesus.” Zane beckoned for Julian and Cameron to come closer. “I didn’t know he had a key,” he said, giving up on hiding the somewhat strained laughter bubbling in his voice.
“Man’s an idiot,” Julian muttered.
“Sometimes I’m inclined to agree,” Zane said under his breath.
Inside, Deuce was helping Ty to his feet. “I don’t have it with me and I was trying not to wake you,” Ty hissed, keeping his voice down. “We didn’t want to draw attention in case anyone was watching. Garrett, quit laughing and get them in here.”
Zane stepped into the penthouse and looked around. It opened into a grand foyer with high ceilings and large windows that displayed a huge terrace with views of the Ben Franklin Bridge and the Delaware River. There was marble flooring, and directly to the right of the entrance was a designer kitchen all in sleek, cool colors. There was a den and a solarium, where it looked like Deuce had set up his office. It was a million-dollar home, Zane had no doubt.
“Jesus, Deuce. This is… nice,” Zane said as he looked around the penthouse.
“Thanks,” Deuce said, sounding confused by their sudden arrival but too polite to ask them what the hell they were doing there in the middle of the night. “It serves as my office too, so I can justify a little luxury.”
“Nobody cares, Slugger,” Ty muttered.
Deuce looked down at the baseball bat still in his hand and shrugged, unapologetic.
Beside Zane, Julian cleared his throat and reached his hand out to Cameron, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.
“What is this, your version of a camping trip?” Deuce asked Ty as he set the bat aside and moved to help with the bags they’d carried in.
“We’ve run into some… trouble,” Ty said with a wince.
“Run away from some trouble,” Zane corrected as he shut the door behind him.
“I see,” Deuce said. He flipped on the kitchen light and turned to look them over. “I don’t see blood.”
Zane smiled and stepped up to hug Ty’s brother. “It’s good to see you again, Deuce.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Deuce said, though his voice was still warm and amused as he returned the hug. He glanced at his brother, who was unconsciously rubbing at his forearm where he’d apparently blocked one of Deuce’s swings with the bat.
“Uh,” Ty said as soon as Deuce looked at him. He cleared his throat and dropped his hands. “This is Julian Cross and Cameron Jacobs. They’re in protective custody,” he told Deuce as he waved his hand at the two men.
“Oh, now it’s protective custody?” Julian muttered. “No more get on your knees, let me bungee you to the roof of the car?”
Ty glared at Julian and Cameron. “Gentlemen, this is my brother, Deacon.”
“Call me Deuce. Protective custody,” Deuce repeated. He glanced at the two men, then at Ty and Zane again speculatively. “And your gimp brother got the drop on you with a baseball bat? Really, Ty?”
Julian made a sound in the back of his throat that may have been a stifled laugh.
Cameron looked among them and rolled his eyes. “Could you direct me to the bathroom, please?” he asked Deuce.
Deuce turned and pointed toward the dark hallway. “First door on the left.”
Ty was grumbling and rubbing his forearm as he moved to the nearest chair and threw himself into it. “Where’s uh… what was her name? Yoga girl?”
“Livi,” Deuce said with a smile. “She went home last night, had to feed her dog.”
Ty nodded. “Best to keep her away while we’re here.”
“Sure, let me just call her up and tell her I’m harboring my brother, his partner, and their two federal fugitive buddies for a few days, take herself a spa weekend. That won’t get me accused of anything nefarious.”
Ty waved a hand through the air, obviously not caring.
Deuce glanced at him before turning his attention back to Zane and Julian. “Dare I ask what you’ve done to deserve protective custody?” he asked Julian.
“I deal antiques,” Julian answered in a soft voice.
Deuce nodded, looking Julian up and down. He turned his head to look at Ty speculatively. “That’s a euphemism for ‘I kill things’, isn’t it?”
Ty closed his eyes and nodded.
“It’s classified,” Zane murmured as he pulled off his jacket and tossed it over one of the bags. Julian was silent and still behind him.
“All righty, then,” Deuce said cheerfully. “Do you need food, showers, or beds?”
“Beds,” Ty answered, voice thin and exhausted. He had been taking the bulk of the driving, simply because he was the best suited to being able to keep himself awake and he’d known where he was going as they’d set out for Philadelphia. But he had reached the end of his stamina on the outskirts of the city.
After they’d fled Gettysburg, they’d basically had three options: head for DC as fast as they could and risk hitting a CIA roadblock, go home to Baltimore and hope the CIA wasn’t sitting on their homes, or abscond to Philadelphia in the hopes that their pursuers wouldn’t expect it. In the end they’d decided that trying to get to DC would be suicide; every road in and out could be watched, and they couldn’t risk driving into the hornet’s nest. Baltimore had been viable, but they’d feared it would be watched too. Since the CIA had known to find Ty’s tracking device, they obviously knew who Ty and Zane were now and where their home was. They would spend a few nights in Philadelphia, as long as they dared, and then try to sneak their way back to DC somehow. They just needed a night’s sleep before they could figure out how to do it.
Ty was rubbing his eyes. “Those two can take the guest bed. Zane and I will fight over the couch.”
Deuce just nodded. “Come help me unearth the air mattress, we’ll toss it in the floor here,” he said as he jerked his head at Ty and turned to head down the hall.
Ty pushed himself out of his chair and followed.
Julian waited until both men were out of sight before taking a step further into the room to look at Zane. “Which one of them is adopted?”
Zane snorted. He knew on the surface, the two Grady brothers seemed very different. While Deuce did look a lot like Ty—he was an inch or so taller, much less broad, his hair was lighter, and his eyes were greener—their personalities could not have been more different. Ty was often abrasive and blunt, wielding sarcasm like a weapon, while Deuce was more diplomatic and kind, finding the gentlest ways of saying even the harshest of things. They had completely different tastes in everything from clothing to decorating to the cars they liked to drive. Their similar looks and quick wit were really the only things they seemed to share. Zane knew better, though. Deep down in their psyches, both brothers were really just waiting to get old enough to sit on a porch and bang things with a shovel.