Fish & Chips

Zane nodded slowly and decided that was the best he could do for now, at least on that topic. He still had a cranky and worked-up partner who needed some kind of outlet. “C"mon.”

He pulled Ty along to a map of the promenade and looked at the entertainment choices while Ty fidgeted impatiently. It was past nine, and the dance clubs were rocking—Zane could hear the muffled music—but he wasn"t sure something more soothing might not be a better choice. Still, they"d walk past the clubs, check them out. He made note of a couple places and then steered Ty in the direction of the music.

“What?” Ty finally asked as Zane led him.

“Distraction for you and entertainment for me, coming right up,”

Zane announced as they descended a wide double staircase.

“What do you mean, entertainment?” Ty asked suspiciously as he looked back at the steps. “Are we headed down to the clubs?”

“Yes,” Zane answered as he glanced to his side to look at Ty. He still caught himself double-taking most of the time. That obscene bleached-blond hair.

“I don"t know, man,” Ty said apprehensively as he pulled Zane closer and lowered his voice. He was having trouble maintaining the nuances of the accent. Zane was surprised he"d managed to do it this long. “It"s usually all crowds and strobe lights and people touching you where your gun"s supposed to be in these places. I don"t go out dancing unless I know no one"s going to come out of the woodwork with a knife at my back.”

“Considering everyone had to go through a metal detector and X-ray to get on board, chances of that happening are lower than usual, despite me skewing the curve,” Zane said. He squeezed Ty close and smiled at a couple walking by. “And I"ll be watching your back,” he added quietly.

“You went through security, and you’re packing,” Ty reminded him distractedly. “You like dancing?” he added in a surprised voice.

Zane smiled genuinely as they reached the bottom of the staircase. “No,” he corrected, leaning over to bump Ty"s shoulder with his own. “I love dancing.”

He didn"t get to go nearly as often as he used to, and not at all since moving to Baltimore; he hadn"t had a chance to scope out the clubs since he was spending his evenings with Ty. When Zane had worked in Miami, he"d gone out almost every night, although he"d also had the excuse of working. Clubs in Miami were notorious for criminal wheeling and dealing.

“I didn"t know that,” Ty murmured, sounding oddly disturbed by the fact.

Zane shrugged. “I did tell you about the square-dancing,” he said under his breath. “Who in their right mind would square-dance if they didn"t love dancing?”

“That"s entirely different!” Ty laughed as they got closer to the pounding beat of the music.

Zane grinned, glad that he"d gotten a smile out of his partner. He felt the music reverberate through him as they neared the entrance of one of the clubs. The name Neptune was scribbled in purple neon over the double door, and velvet ropes blocked the entrance. The crowd beyond writhed in the dim room.

“So your plan is to liquor me up, get me all sweaty and worked up, then take me back to the cabin?” Ty asked him, his tone placid.

“Oh, it may not have been my plan before, but it sure as hell is now,” Zane agreed wholeheartedly. If he had a choice in his night"s companion, he"d much rather have the aroused and pliable Ty from this afternoon than the cranky, fractious man of this evening.

“I like it,” Ty said approvingly. He led Zane into the club, the bouncers letting them pass by the waiting line without a moment"s pause. Ty might argue differently, but he knew how to use his looks when he needed to.

He"d also been right about the strobe lights, but it wasn"t too bad.

The club was on the small side but remarkably full. There were tiered dance floors on three different levels and tables surrounding them. For once, there was no sign of holiday decorations. The bar was with them on the ground floor, and Zane pointed Ty in that direction, hoping he"d get something, even if it wasn"t alcohol.

Ty didn"t hesitate, apparently having made his decision after his brief discussion with Zane earlier. He let go of Zane and cut his way through the crowd. As Zane watched him go, he could see people in the club, both men and women, turning to take a second look at Ty as he moved past them. It was difficult to suppress the urge to preen as people noticed, but then he remembered he didn"t have to stop himself—Corbin would flaunt his husband for all he was worth. So he just slid a hand into his pocket to wait, knowing full well Ty was coming back to him and only him. Oh yes, smug was a good word for it, Zane figured. And as he saw Ty making his way back toward him, he really couldn"t have cared less about being called possessive, either.

Despite his protests about the dangers of the crowd, Ty was already smirking, a drink in one hand as he moved through the mass of people. In order to do it, a person had to shift with the rhythm of the music or be knocked around for their efforts. Ty did this expertly. Zane suspected he"d spent his fair share of time in places like this. Only Zane imagined the type of place Ty would haunt would have fewer strobe lights and more peanuts on the floor.

Ty moving fluidly through the throng, shifting his hips or rolling his shoulders, was a beautiful thing, Zane reflected, and his body agreed. Ty would look even better dancing. His streamlined body was practically made for it.

When Ty reached him, he was grinning widely, holding his drink up out of the throng. Bodies moved around them in time with the beat of the music. It had no words that Zane could discern, drowned out by the bass. It was just as well. It made it easier to concentrate on the thump under his feet and deep in his chest, driving up his heart rate, and for now, that was what Zane was interested in. He jerked his head in the direction of the center of the dance floor and raised an eyebrow in question.

Ty took a long drink from the cup in his hand and moved closer, wrapping an arm around Zane"s neck to pull him close enough to speak to him. It was impossible for them to remain still in the sea of dancing bodies, with the music pumping through the room, and they were moving by default. They didn"t actually have to move closer to the dance floor in order to dance because the mob absorbed them.

“This is a first for me,” Ty practically shouted in his ear. “Never danced with a guy before. On purpose, anyway.”

Zane smirked and slid his hands down Ty"s back to spread across his ass and subtly pull him nearer, not that anyone would see it for the crowd. Zane wasn"t missing out on this opportunity. He"d never thought he"d have a chance to dance with Ty at all; he didn"t exactly seem the type for a moonlit sway on the aft deck with the small jazz band they"d seen the night before.

And they certainly couldn"t do this in Baltimore.

Ty moved closer, as close as he could get, pressing his body against Zane"s as they moved together. People shifted around them, strangers touching and writhing indiscriminately along with the beat.

But Ty"s eyes and hands stayed on Zane and Zane alone.

Chapter 6

THE line for the rock-climbing wall was a long one, and the wait even longer since there was a necessity to watch and linger for the intended victims. The cold was not a problem, but impatience was. He did not like doing what he considered such menial tasks as wet work.

The good weather and party-like atmosphere of the ship made his job somewhat easier, though. People were happy and oblivious, and he was able to subtly insert himself just in front of the two men when they arrived. It was a masterpiece of malevolence, making certain he was the one climbing just before them without anyone noticing what he"d done or what he was about to do.

He carried a small ceramic knife in a bag on his hip, one he"d been able to carry past the low-tech metal detectors, and it was innocuous enough if by some bad luck he was searched by security. It was also easy to ditch if necessary; all he had to do was throw it hard against something solid and it would shatter into a million pieces. On the cruise ship, though, that wasn"t really a problem with weapons. If he was close enough to the edge, he could simply toss it overboard and watch it sink into the dark blue depths.

He didn"t foresee needing to do that.

As he climbed the fake wall, he carefully pulled the belay line to him, collecting it at his belly so no one below or above would see what he was doing. When he came to the spot on the rope he thought would do the most damage, he slid the palm-sized knife from his fanny pack and quickly made a cut, almost a third of the way through the nylon line. It wasn"t much, barely noticeable to the naked eye since the knife was so sharp. When given a cursory examination, it wouldn"t be seen.

Only when it reached the carabiner above and the weight of a human body was pulling on it would it become apparent.

After tucking the knife away, he waved to the attendant about three meters above him and slowly began to make his descent. He took care with the rope, mindful not to put too much weight on it and to let it play out at what seemed a natural rate. When his feet touched the padded ground at the base of the wall, he was content in the knowledge that when the rope broke because of too much weight on the compromised line, his quarry would be the one in the harness.

ZANE shook his head and sighed as he stood in the bright sun and crisp winter air, looking up the gray rock wall toward the clear blue sky. He was starting to wish Corbin was a supergeek weasel or an old, portly man who walked with a cane. These things were hell on his nerves.

He brought his attention to ground level, where Ty stood next to him, trying to stay still as a short and rather stout staff member named Manny checked over his harness. Their turn on the rock wall had been by appointment, another demand of their itineraries. The line was lengthy, and it wound around the platform and down the ramp passengers had to climb to get up to this point. The deck level made the lofty rock wall, perched near the stern of the large cruise ship, seem just that much higher.

Zane was now doubting his decision to eat a hearty breakfast. It wasn"t that he was scared, per se. He knew he could climb the damn wall and that he"d be fine, especially in a harness strung on a thick, anchored nylon rope. He wasn"t afraid of heights. It was just the whole falling thing that sort of scared him shitless.

Jingling caught his attention, and Zane watched Ty shake his shoulders out as he tried to buckle the strap of his helmet under his chin. He had fallen victim to one of the Santa hats and was wearing it over his helmet. Zane snorted and reached over to pluck it off and toss it to the side.

“Ready to go?” Zane asked gamely. He was glad he"d lost the rock-paper-scissors game for who would climb first.

“You look a little green,” Ty responded wryly, although the teasing of his voice lost something with the fake accent. His chin was lifted as he messed with the strap, and he was looking down his nose at Zane with a smile. With the helmet covering his platinum-blond hair, he looked like himself again, even if he didn"t sound like it.

Zane wrinkled his nose and stepped close enough to push Ty"s hands away from the buckle, flipping over the twisted strap on one side so it buckled easily. “We"ll be hooked up to something. I can deal. I"m sure it"s a hell of a view from forty feet up.”

“Yeah,” Ty said with a laugh. His voice was full of sadistic glee.

“You don"t get seasick, do you? Even on a ship this size, I"m pretty sure you"ll feel the roll up there.”

“I have no idea,” Zane said honestly, setting his hands on his hips.

“I guess we"ll find out.”

Even though they"d been settling into their roles on board quite comfortably for the last two days, it was still a slight surprise when Ty stepped closer and gave him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips before turning toward the gray wall covered with red, yellow, green, and black handholds, marking the varying degrees of climbing difficulty.

Zane stood there smiling like an idiot as Manny made certain the belay device attached to Zane"s harness was operating properly, telling Zane that he was Ty"s counterweight and instructing him how to use the simple device the rope passed through. It could be easily secured in case of a fall, using Zane"s weight to counter Ty"s if he slipped. Zane looked up the length of the rope to the anchor at the top of the wall and figured he"d need to keep the rope close to taut, just in case. Knowing Ty, he"d fall and swing free like an acrobat just to make Zane"s harness abuse his fun parts.

“Okay, Extreme Sports Ken, go for it,” Zane said after resettling his sunglasses.

Ty looked back at him in exasperation, one hand on a notch in the rock wall. “Here"s where I ask, „on belay?", and if you"re prepared to catch me if and when I fall to my possible doom, you reply, „belay on",” Ty told him.

“Belay on,” Zane reported dutifully, a few of his academy memories filtering back. He"d had a short course in rappelling way back when, but it hadn"t stuck with him, and it wasn"t quite the same as rock climbing. The commands sounded familiar, though.

Ty cleared his throat against a laugh and said, “Climbing,” before hefting himself up onto the wall. Manny leaned over and murmured to Zane, and Zane obediently announced, “Climb on,” as he watched Ty"s every move.

Ty wore a pair of green athletic shorts and a navy blue sleeveless shirt this morning, both relatively tight to avoid loose clothing getting caught in the ropes or snagging on the wall, and it was easy to see his defined muscles flexing as he deftly moved from one grip to the next. It was obvious he had done this before, and not just on the odd weekend excursion. Force Recon probably got pretty familiar with this kind of thing. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">