“He"s a thug,” Zane murmured. “He"s dressed up pretty, but he"s still just a thug.”
“Explains the tattoo they"ll be giving you then.”
Zane blinked and turned his chin toward McCoy, who was grinning.
WHEN Zane and McCoy stepped back into the observation room of Del Porter"s interrogation suite, Zane had almost expected Ty to still be there, tying himself to the table and begging not to be taken to the salon.
But it was just Special Agent Lassiter, who had been joined by Special Agent Perrimore. They were standing at the glass, looking in at the prisoner with their heads cocked to the sides, like they were studying an animal in the zoo.
Zane peered through the glass as well. Ty was in there, sitting opposite Del, relaxed into the seat with his back to them, his legs crossed and his elbow resting on the table, almost like Corbin Porter had been. But Ty made it seem casual and easy, where Corbin had given off nothing but contempt and hostility. There was something different in Ty"s manner, too, but Zane couldn"t put a finger on it. He was too surprised to see Ty in there at all. He wasn"t the only one.
“What the hell is he doing?” McCoy asked in alarm.
“He said he wanted to talk to him,” Lassiter answered.
McCoy reached over and flipped the speaker switch.
“He told us not to listen in,” Lassiter told McCoy.
“Fuck that,” McCoy responded unthinkingly. “The guy"s actually talking—we might get something from him.”
“Not like we can use it in court,” Lassiter murmured under his breath, and he and Perrimore murmured quietly before snickering over the circumstances of the undercover case again. Zane ignored them in favor of watching Ty as the speakers tuned in.
“How long have you been married?” Ty was asking Del, who sat hunched and defensive, looking at Ty suspiciously.
Del didn"t answer; he merely looked down at his hands, probably studying his wedding ring. Zane resisted the urge to look down at his own. He knew, without a doubt, what sort of thoughts were running through Del"s mind. Zane squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before focusing on the scene again.
“Did you do it here in the States or did you go somewhere else?”
Ty asked, his voice conveying what sounded like genuine interest.
“What the hell does Ty care?” Perrimore asked incredulously.
“He doesn"t. He"s building rapport, idiot,” Lassiter answered idly as he watched Ty closely. “We used to use him to prep suspects all the time. He"s charming.”
“You two will make a cute couple,” Perrimore drawled.
“Shut up. He also has a knack for giving off that dumb as a brick vibe, leaves them off guard.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Ty continued, undeterred when Del still didn"t answer his queries.
“My husband and I, we went to Boston,” Ty went on, picking up his hand and flashing the silver ring on his finger casually. The lie came shockingly easily to him. Del"s eyes flickered up to him, obviously surprised.
Everyone in the room turned to look at Zane.
“Ah, yes,” he drawled wryly as he felt their eyes on him. “He"s a sucker for red roses and opera.”
Perrimore and Lassiter snorted at him while McCoy chuckled and shook his head. “If there was baseball and Guinness involved, I"d half believe it,” McCoy muttered.
Zane rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the window.
“Lots of history up there,” Ty was saying with a tilt of his head.
In the room, Del sat up straighter. “I didn"t think they liked that sort of thing in the FBI,” he said with a slight curl of his lip. Zane was surprised to hear him speak with a British accent.
Ty shrugged. “You"re thinking military. Feds don"t have any problems with it. I do my job like anyone else,” he said with another wave of his hand. Zane couldn"t place what Ty was doing differently with his body, but it made him look… gentler. Not feminine, but… not as masculine as he was apt to be. Zane couldn"t really describe the effect other than to think that Ty looked less alpha. He realized suddenly, as Ty rolled his shoulders, that he was subtly mimicking the man sitting across from him.
It hit Zane right then what Ty was really doing in there. He had no intention of interrogating Del Porter. He was studying him.
Del nodded carefully. “How long have you been with him?” he asked, his tone tentative.
“Long enough to know better,” Ty answered with a smile. All of his answers were vague. White lies that wouldn"t test Ty"s conscience, Zane knew.
Del gave him a half smile and nodded, then looked back down at his hands.
Ty was silent, watching him. From his vantage point behind the glass, Zane could see what Ty was seeing. Fading bruises around the man"s wrists, a few on his upper arms.
“He treat you right?” Ty asked suddenly.
Del glanced up at him almost defiantly and nodded again. He held up his hands to display his wrists. “I like it rough,” he told Ty with a smirk.
McCoy had to clear his throat, and Zane turned a glare on him.
Ty chuckled and nodded. “I hear ya,” he responded neutrally. He continued to examine Del Porter, and the man watched him and waited almost curiously. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he was still wary.
Zane shook his head as he watched through the glass.
“The little hamster in Ty"s head is probably bored,” Perrimore observed.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Porter,” Ty said abruptly as he nodded, as if having satisfied himself. He unfolded his legs and stood, heading for the door.
Del watched him go in surprise. “That"s it?” he asked in confusion. “You"re leaving?”
Ty stopped at the door and turned to look back at the man, his hand on the door handle. “I"m sorry. Did you need something else?” he asked with what seemed like honest surprise.
“You didn"t even ask me anything.”
Ty laughed and shook his head. “That ain"t my job, man,” he told Del dismissively before stepping out of the interrogation room and shutting the door firmly behind him.
Del Porter stared at the door and then looked at the mirrored glass incredulously.
“Somebody get Grady to the damn spa,” McCoy ordered under his breath as he stalked out of the room.
Chapter 2
LOOKING over his reflection in the mirror, Zane wondered how such little changes could make him look so different. When he"d gone undercover before, he"d either been in tailored suits in Wall Street financial company offices, or he"d gone messier and dirtier in denim, leather, and sweat. This high-class pizzazz was new.