Ty laughed softly and shook his head. He lay back, leaving the gun safely under the mattress, rolled on the bed, and stretched out on his stomach, surprised by the adrenaline still coursing through him. He hadn"t almost died in a while. He wasn"t handling it well.
Zane exchanged a few more words with the person on the other side of the door before shutting it firmly and shooting the bolt. “We are now top of the treat list,” he said wryly as he walked back to the bed.
“The ship, if not the world, is ours on a platter.”
“Great,” Ty replied without enthusiasm. “What else is on that damned itinerary?”
“Too many other extreme sports for my liking,” Zane muttered as he sat on the edge of the mattress and started rubbing Ty"s neck with one hand.
“What would be the point in disabling Del or Corbin at this stage?” Ty posed as he stared listlessly at the balcony doors.
“Nothing other than removing them from the equation,” Zane answered, twisting a little to use both hands to knead Ty"s shoulders carefully.
“Thank you, Sherlock,” Ty said with a small smile. “I meant why.
Have we stumbled into a business takeover, do you think?”
Zane stayed quiet for a minute as he massaged, his fingers firm on Ty"s skin. “You mean Armen trying to take over.”
“Or Bianchi,” Ty said with a nod.
“I suppose it could be us—the Porters—trying to take over, and one of the others is simply striking first,” Zane suggested as he kept up the massage, moving more to Ty"s shoulders and upper arms.
“You"re much better at that than the last lady,” Ty mumbled distractedly.
The warm hands squeezing and rubbing kept moving in smooth circles and slides. “Porter does seem the type to try a takeover,” Zane mentioned, continuing the conversation as if Ty hadn"t said anything.
“An enterprising thug. Bianchi… well, my first impression isn"t one of aggression. Armen is dangerous.”
“Right.” Ty sighed heavily, closing his eyes and concentrating more on Zane"s hands. He had long fingers on big hands, and he spread them across Ty"s skin expertly as he massaged the muscles bunching with tension. First the fingers would dig in and knead until it was almost painful, but then Zane would let up and start soothing the area with long swipes of the heels of his hands, gently shooing the discomfort away.
Ty realized he was letting Zane divert him from the slightly more important issue they now faced. He raised his head and turned it, resting it again so he was facing Zane. “You"re getting distracted,” he accused.
The corners of Zane"s mouth pulled up slowly, and the smile echoed in his eyes. “Am I, now?” he drawled, dragging his fingertips down Ty"s back.
Ty shivered violently, then rolled and reached up to knock Zane"s hand away. He miscalculated where he was on the circular bed, though, and his shoulder hit the edge of the mattress and he went toppling over the edge with a flail of his arms and an abbreviated yip.
There was silence for a brief moment, and then Zane"s head appeared to look down at him.
“Haven"t you had enough of that for one day?” He didn"t sound particularly amused. Ty sat up, rubbing the back of his head and glaring up at his lover balefully, as if it had been Zane"s doing. “Don"t look at me,” Zane said as he shifted in place, still up on the bed. “This one you did to yourself, dumbass.”
“I hate this bed,” Ty muttered as he sat on the floor dejectedly and examined his abused hands. He couldn"t be bothered to get off the floor.
“Come back up—” Another knock interrupted Zane. He climbed off the bed with a grunt, trudged to the door, and opened it much the same as before.
Only this time he immediately pulled the door further open so the room service cart could be pushed in to their table. The staffer made herself scarce—no telling if she"d heard about the crazy morning—and Zane locked the door behind her.
Ty had to stretch his neck to watch him over the edge of the bed.
Zane busied himself with the tray, smiling down at the plates he uncovered. “Hey, get your Tylenol and come eat,” he said. “Then I have liquid relaxation for you.”
“Garrett, come over here,” Ty requested quietly.
Zane turned his chin to look at him, his brow furrowing slightly, but he walked over to where Ty still sat on the floor and stopped, waiting with a questioning look.
“This floor is surprisingly clean,” Ty told him pointedly as he gestured to the lush carpet at Zane"s feet.
“Should I interpret that as „bring me a sandwich and a beer", or as
„get down here and kiss me"?” Zane asked as he crossed his arms and looked down at his partner.
Ty just smiled wistfully, a part of him wishing he didn"t have to beg Zane to get down there and kiss him. He held out a hand. “Help me up,” he muttered instead. Zane took his hand and pulled him up obligingly. Ty patted him on the arm and moved past him, toward the cart and the array of food and drinks. He"d only just picked up a bottle of beer when they heard another knock on the door.
“Oh, this is just getting ridiculous,” Zane muttered.
Ty shook his head and popped the top on the beer anyway. “I got it,” he said as he waved Zane off and shuffled barefoot to the door. He opened the door wide, assuming that whoever had tried to kill Del was sneakier than a gun to the face in the doorway of his suite.
He was right, but what greeted him was almost as alarming.
Norina Bianchi flung herself into Ty"s arms as soon as he"d opened the door, accompanied by a rush of foreign babble and her smiling husband. After a tight hug, she leaned back, patted both his cheeks, and then hugged him again. She sounded worried, and Ty gathered the pair had learned of his mishap on the rock wall.
“Yes, I"m fine. Come in,” he invited, flustered as he tried to gently extricate himself from the woman"s arms without spilling beer on her.
He heard Zane"s voice from behind them. “Signor Bianchi, please come in. I"m going to guess your lovely wife heard about Del"s grand adventure this morning.”
“Ah, yes,” Bianchi said as he shooed Norina out of the doorway so they could all get inside and shut the door. “Here she comes, flying into the cabin to go on about a big excitement in the sporting center.”
Norina was still talking rapidly to Ty, her beautiful face undergoing a dramatic series of frowns and worried expressions. Ty was pretty good with languages and could upon occasion pick up what someone was saying from knowledge of similar languages or even the meanings of root words he recognized. But trying to decipher any of what she said when she spoke it at Mach 7 was impossible.