Sticks & Stones

Zane rolled his eyes. “Funny guy.” He uncrossed his arms and looked down at himself. “I’m a mess, and it’s your fault. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Make you walk home,” Ty answered seriously as he twirled his car keys around his finger and turned to head off for his Bronco again.

“C’mon, Grady,” Zane complained as he followed. “I brought you down here, didn’t I?”

“That’s right,” Ty acknowledged. “If it weren’t for you, those could have been real bullets and bombs we were playing with,” he said pointedly. “But no,” he drawled out in disappointment.

Zane stopped at the side of the truck. “I passed the tests, okay? Should be any day now we get the word from Burns.” He opened the back door and pulled out a duffel bag.

“Did you really bring a change of clothes?” Ty asked in surprise as he tossed his gear into the back seat.

Zane favored Ty with an aggravated look, but he was still pleased enough with the day not to get pissy about it. “I figured you’d find some way to fuck me over,” he said. “You’ve been bouncing off the walls for over a week now, and I’m your favorite target lately.”

“Are you still pissy about the rubber band cannon?” Ty asked him in exasperation.

“Ugh.” Zane started unbuttoning the BDU blouse. “You’re lucky that guy from accounting didn’t know it was you when his toupee went flying. He might have rerouted your next paycheck to Greenpeace.”

Ty began snickering softly, obviously trying to hold in the laughter. He closed the back door and leaned against the rear of the Bronco to look at Zane critically. “All the puns in my arsenal, and I can’t think of a single blue joke,” he said mournfully.

Zane carefully pulled the heavy green and black camouflage jacket off, turning it totally inside out as he did. “Off your game, Grady,” he said distractedly as he set the folded-up blouse on the pavement next to his feet and started digging in his duffel for a towel.

“You’re just pissed ’cause you got riddled with holes,” Ty grunted as he turned to head for the driver’s side door.

Zane had to smile as he shook his head. Ty had been going crazy in the office for the past five weeks, so when he’d heard about the chance to come over here to Quantico for the day, Zane had jumped at it and dragged his raving-mad partner along. With a sigh, Zane wiped pretty much all the paint off his hands and swiped under his chin a couple times before folding up the towel and shoving it and the now-blue uniform blouse in the duffel.

Ty had the truck running when Zane got into the passenger seat and shut the door.

Ty was looking at him with a crooked smile. Zane raised one eyebrow. “What?”

“That was fun,” Ty told him in a pleased voice, one Zane hadn’t heard much lately.

Whatever annoyance he’d been feeling faded in the face of Ty’s unholy glee. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said, giving his partner a tolerant look. Maybe Ty would be a little easier to live with for a day or two. Which would in turn make Zane a little less cranky as well. It might just be a decent week after all.

Ty gave him a wicked laugh as he pulled the Bronco out of its spot, pointing them back toward DC.

Chapter 2

“SO, SPECIAL Agent Garrett, I understand you’ve finished your evaluations,” the Assistant Director of the Criminal Investigative Division said from where he sat behind his large mahogany desk. The desk stood out against the drab colors of the paint and carpet and matched the wall of bookshelves that warmed the room.

FBI Special Agent Zane Garrett stood at the window, looking out at the wet, dirty streets of Washington, DC, and desperately wishing he could be anywhere else. He could see his boss in the window; the man behind the desk held several files in his hand as he looked at Zane with raised eyebrows.

Zane sneered at his own reflection in the window. The shadows under his eyes and wrinkles from his frown were pronounced above his slightly crooked nose, giving him a rough and tumble appearance even though he was clean-shaven. The scraped cheeks were in sharp contrast to his slightly overgrown dark brown hair. Looking at himself, he acknowledged that, despite the muscular build cloaked in black slacks and a royal blue dress shirt, he wasn’t any prize right now.

He had been assigned to the DC office for five weeks, along with his partner, after they’d been reunited in this very office following five miserable months apart. Upon receiving the new assignment, they had both been relegated to deskwork for various reasons, not the least of which was the physical and mental aftereffects of the turbulent past year or so. For him, it had been an especially rough year. Ty seemed better able to shake off the past than he did. Zane took a steadying breath and slid his hands into his pockets, shifting uncomfortably in place.

He winced and turned to look at Richard Burns. He’d known the meeting today would be… rocky.

“You passed the academic and physical testing, but you know that already. You also know you managed to flunk the mental evaluation that would have cleared you for field duty,” Burns said in concern.

Zane didn’t answer as he folded his arms in front of himself, wondering what he could say to explain. There was so much shit bouncing around in his head that he wasn’t sure himself why he’d had such a tough time with an evaluation he should have been able to bullshit through easily. He just hadn’t been able to focus.

“If there’s a legitimate reason you can’t get your head out of your ass, I’d like to hear it,” Burns invited as he looked back up at Zane. He paused, probably waiting to see if Zane would say anything. When he received no comment, Burns continued. “Is it your partner?” he asked carefully.

Zane’s shoulders stiffened, and he shook his head quickly. His partner had a reputation throughout the Bureau for being hard to work with; Zane had found in the last five weeks that he got more apologetic looks from his co-workers now that he was working with Special Agent Ty Grady than he’d gotten when his wife had died. But Zane didn’t have a problem working with Ty. Not for the same reason others did, anyway.

“It’s been hard,” he hedged. “Getting over what happened.”

That was an understatement. The truth was that he’d been fighting insomnia, acute headaches, and suffering through nightmares when he actually did sleep alone. Tracking down a serial killer intent on not being caught was hazardous to your health, both mentally and physically, and nearly getting killed in a vicious car wreck during the hunt almost six months ago had contributed to his problems. He’d recovered surprisingly well—physically. He’d attended his rehab appointments and gym times religiously. But the rest….

He’d been able to ignore it as long as he’d had Ty in bed next to him. When Zane first got into his company-issue extended-stay hotel suite, Ty had been there almost every night, only going home to Baltimore once or twice a week to switch out his clothing. Over the next five weeks, though, as they’d languished in deskwork waiting to be cleared for the field, the overnight stays had tapered off until Ty showed up only once or twice a week, if at all. The less Ty showed up, the less Zane slept. And while it did wonders for his physical rehab and workout schedule, it was also one of the reasons Zane had been feeling somewhat disconnected, both from his job and from his partner.

Burns watched him knowingly. “That’s certainly understandable,” he finally agreed. “Which is why I’ve decided to give you a few more weeks of vacation before your official evals take place.”

“What?” Zane asked in surprise. While he felt a wave of relief that he was getting a reprieve, he also felt his stomach plummet nervously. There was always a catch with Dick Burns.

“How’s your partner, Zane?” Burns asked.

Zane blinked a few times at the unexpected query. “Grady?” he asked warily.

Burns’ mouth turned up in a half smile. “Do you have another partner I should know about?”

“No,” Zane said quickly. “He’s fine.” He and Grady got along. Most of the time. Mostly in bed. The last few weeks had been a disappointing stretch, though; apparently not having a psychopath trying to kill them was slightly detrimental to forming any sort of personal relationship.

“Fine,” Burns repeated.

Zane waved a hand around. “Yeah. Fine. I guess. Trying to stay busy.” He rolled his eyes, thinking about the whirlwind of attitude and energy from Ty he dealt with every day. “He can’t sit still,” he told Burns.

Burns looked highly amused as he tipped back in his leather chair. “No, he can’t. He never could. But then, neither can you,” he pointed out, looking significantly at the comfortable wingback chairs in front of his desk.

Zane shrugged uncomfortably but took the hint and moved to the chair Burns had indicated. “Grady spends most of his free time at the gym, as far as I know,” he said, hoping to move the focus off himself. “At the office we try to keep him distracted so he doesn’t burn down the building.”

“How’s he handling deskwork?” Burns asked knowingly.

Zane glared at him, clearly communicating that he knew it was a bullshit question. “He’s about as helpful as you’d figure.”

“Yes, I heard about your little day trip down to Quantico,” Burns said as he frowned and pulled back his white shirtsleeve to check his watch.

“We did pretty damn well in that exercise,” Zane pointed out.

“If you consider going down in a blaze of glory and paintballs ‘doing well,’” Burns said with a hint of a smile. ”The real test will come when you’re back in the field. If you ever get there,” he said seriously.

“You know how much Grady likes to win,” Zane muttered.

Burns pursed his lips and nodded. He seemed torn between amusement and concern. “Well, take comfort in the fact they weren’t real bullets, I guess,” he offered finally.

Zane leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. Although Ty’s actions at the time had been surprising, Zane figured he understood. It was just a game. Ty wouldn’t leave him alone when it counted. Not if there was anything he could do about it. “Real bullets change everything,” he answered.

“Remember that when you’re back in the field,” Burns requested wryly. “You have another evaluation set up in three weeks’ time,” Burns told Zane, his voice soft. “At which point I expect you to pass with flying colors. Your place is in the field,” he asserted. “If I can’t put you there after your vacation, I have no further use for you. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Zane swallowed hard on the bile in his throat. That meant either a forced transfer to a desk job in another division—which would be terrible—or early retirement. Zane didn’t even want to think about that. He wouldn’t have anything left without this job or his partner. Without Ty.

“Enjoy your time off, Zane, starting right now,” Burns offered sincerely. “Grady is getting several death threats a day from the office staff, so he’s been ‘granted’ two weeks of his own,” he added in a long-suffering voice. “What you do with your time off is none of my concern. Just don’t do it here.”

Zane suppressed a groan. The last vacation he’d taken was a disastrous trip back to Texas to see his family. Most of it had been spent avoiding his family. “All right,” he agreed, his tone resigned. At this point, sitting alone in his hotel suite would just make things worse, but he really didn’t know what else to do. He hadn’t felt this lost in a long time, and unlike the past, he didn’t have drugs or alcohol to blame or to turn to. This time it was all on him.

Burns was watching him closely. “Have you thought about seeing a psychiatrist?” he asked carefully.

Zane flinched. He’d known this was coming, but it didn’t make hearing it any less painful. He really didn’t want to go that route if he could avoid it. He wouldn’t wish all the shit in his head on anybody.

“When you get back, there’s someone I’d like you to speak to if you’re still having difficulty,” Burns told him with a sigh. “He’s not a Bureau doctor. He’s just a friend of mine who is very good.” Zane nodded slowly, and Burns took pity on him and smiled slightly. “Don’t worry, Garrett. It’ll be all right. Find a hobby or something. Take up knitting,” he suggested with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Knitting,” Zane repeated flatly.

Burns nodded as there was a knock on the door to his office, and his harried assistant opened it. Burns waved her off as a man pushed past her to enter. Zane turned to see his partner and looked back at Burns with a frown, wondering what was going on.

“Come in, Special Agent Grady,” Burns greeted pleasantly, completely unfazed by Ty’s entrance. “Good to see you.”

“You’re a lousy liar, Dick,” Ty Grady muttered as he ushered Burns’ secretary back out and shut the door in her face. He turned back around and glowered. “I just got off the phone with my dad,” he announced accusingly. “Said he was looking forward to seeing me this week. Know anything about that?”

Burns merely cleared his throat and smiled.

Zane ran his eyes over Ty, skimming over the close-cropped hair and clean-shaven face before moving his attention down over the sand-colored suit and black shirt he was wearing. The tailored suits he’d been wearing while on duty in DC looked incredible on him, though Zane knew Ty hated to wear them. He managed to look loose and comfortable in them despite the almost constant fidgeting they caused him. The tie took the brunt of the fussing during the day. It was usually gone by lunch. 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">