“What about not-surprise kisses?” Zane rasped.
Ty swallowed heavily and inclined his head slightly, his chin still in Zane’s grasp. “I don’t think those have been banned yet,” he finally answered hoarsely.
Zane realized that he finally had Ty just as off-kilter as Ty had him.
And Ty was a very strong man. Strong of will and strong of opinion.
“Good,” Zane replied. “Just wanted that clarified. Now. You want me to not-surprise kiss you or walk away?”
“Neither,” Ty answered gruffly, lowering his head stubbornly before reaching up and grabbing the back of Zane’s neck to pull him that last inch closer and kiss him.
Joining in the kiss, Zane pulled Ty hard up against his body, wrapping his arms around him. Fuck, why did they always talk so much? This was the way they related best. This was the way they clicked. What were they supposed to do with that?
Ty finally pushed away and held him at arm’s length. “Now what?”
he panted breathlessly, his breath hitching painfully as his ribs protested the festivities.
Zane shook his head. “Are you feeling this, too?” he rasped. This insane, blown-away pleasure, the near impossible-to-assuage hunger, the ache deep inside, contrasted by short moments of tenderness that seemed so out of place. Zane certainly wasn’t sure where they came from, but oh, God …
Ty watched him, still trying to slow his breathing and holding him at arm’s distance. “No,” he lied blithely.
Knowing full well what Ty was saying, Zane let out a pent-up breath before slowly shaking his head. “Me, either,” he said, voice more intent than he’d meant it to be. His eyes stayed unswervingly on his partner.
Ty was nodding almost fervently even as Zane spoke. “Good,” he breathed quietly. “That’s good.”
Zane nodded slowly. “Yeah … good.”
ROUGHLY an hour later, Zane and Ty sat in a booth at the Hard Rock Cafe, Ty shifting restlessly in a new jacket he had sworn he would never like as they both pretended not to be watching the door.
“I don’t know why you’re pissy about the jacket,” Zane said to him, admiring the black leather as he tapped his unlit cigarette on the table. Damn no-smoking-in-restaurants ordinances. “I should have gotten one. Been a few years since I had a leather jacket.”
“It’s black,” Ty huffed. “And it smells new.”
“They had brown,” Zane pointed out, eyes studying the busy crowd.
“There’s no help for it smelling new, unless you want to find some dirt and roll around in it, maybe drive over it a few times with the SUV.”
“My other one got run over by a motorcycle once,” Ty responded hopefully, leaning forward on his elbows. “And the brown ones was all too small."
Zane smiled, noticing the way Ty’s accent was stronger and his grammar was worse when he was irritated. The more he got to know him, the more obvious it was becoming that a lot of Ty Grady was a façade—or layers of several masks. Zane wasn’t sure if he would ever see the real man, and it made him slightly sad. He thought maybe he would really like the real man.
“You could have waited,” he pointed out. “Lord knows there’re enough stores in this town.” He sat back, stretching his legs out to the side of the table almost into the aisle. “Maybe I’ll go get one yet.”
“Yeah, that’ll be fun, being twins,” Ty muttered under his breath.
Finally, he growled and shrugged out of the squeaky new leather and tossed it across the table at Zane. “Fucking take it,” he muttered.
Catching the jacket just before it hit him in the face, Zane grinned and shook it out, looking over it gleefully. Without even blinking away from the jacket, he murmured, “Henninger’s here,” before saying louder, “Thanks, Grady, it’s not even my birthday.”
“You can go f**k yourself,” Ty muttered, loud enough for Henninger to hear as he approached the table.
“Well, it’s … good to see you’re still the same sweet pair,” Henninger murmured as he nodded at them and glanced around idly before sliding into the booth beside Zane.
“What can I say, it’s still the honeymoon phase,” Zane answered dryly, picking up his iced tea.
“My condolences,” Henninger responded flatly, nodding at Zane.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked as Ty growled wordlessly.
“You tell us,” Zane retorted, still sitting back, relaxed. “I imagine the shit’s still hitting the fan at the office.”
“And it’s dripping off the walls,” Henninger nodded in answer. “Is there a … particular reason, by any chance, that you two haven’t come back in yet?” he asked carefully. “Are you okay?” he asked Ty with a small frown.
Zane glanced at Ty, who was doing a good job of looking bored and disinterested. That or his head was still pounding and he really wasn’t paying attention. It was hard for Zane to tell. “He’s got a little headache. He’s fine,”
he answered for the other man. “And we’re rather fond of our skins,” he continued. “The office seems to be a hotbed of opportunity for assassinations right now,” Zane said. “Can you get the information we need?”
“You think someone in the Bureau is trying to kill you,” Henninger murmured almost under his breath, repeating his words from the day before but sounding slightly more convinced. The noise of the busy restaurant covered their conversation perfectly. “How did he find out why you were here?” he asked, apparently wanting them to know that he agreed with their assumptions. “And why risk confirming what, up to now, has just been a suspicion?”
Zane just raised his brow, and they sat back quietly as a server appeared to take Henninger’s drink order and drop off Ty and Zane’s appetizer. Snapping out of his supposed daze, Ty reached forward and snagged a chicken finger, crunching on it as he watched Henninger thoughtfully. The kid seemed to be having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that the serial really was an FBI man.
“It ain’t just us he’s trying to off,” Ty said to the younger man.
“There was an attempt on you as well, in case you forgot,” he reminded softly. “This boy knows what we’re doing before we do it. He knows how to get in and get out without getting on tape. He’s a step ahead of us all the way.”
“Look, we’re not going back in there, and we’re not reporting in again until we get some hard evidence to take to someone high up,” Zane said. “You can get us the information we need from inside—and you’ve proven you can keep your mouth shut.” He reached out and took up a loaded potato skin. “We’ll take care of the rest,” he murmured, meeting Ty’s eyes.