“Not so fast, love. We have some catching up to do,” Liam Bell purred against Zane’s ear.
Pain blossomed at Zane’s temple, and the lights flickered out.
Ty had his phone to his ear, calling Zane’s number for the tenth time as he stepped out of the elevator. It clicked over to voice mail again, and Ty left another message. He was sounding more and more pissed and panicked with each one, but he didn’t care.
It took him three tries to get his key card to work, and he shoved his shoulder into the door to push it open.
When he stalked into the room, Nick was perched on the end of the bed. Kelly and Digger were sitting opposite him, all of them looking grim.
“No Zane?” Nick asked.
Ty shook his head, fighting past the wave of nausea, grief, and panic. “No Owen?” He asked in return, surprised when his voice cracked.
“He left the hotel,” Kelly explained. “He’ll come back, no need to track him down.”
“Yeah, unless Bell gets to him first,” Digger muttered.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Okay, this isn’t some horror movie. He’s not going to pick us off one by one when we venture out.”
“I don’t know, Irish,” Digger said. “I remember Liam being pretty gleeful about hunting people down.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not after all of you,” Ty said. “He wants me to suffer.”
Nick lifted his head. “Killing off the people you love is the way I’d go.”
“Dude, you’re getting creepier since you came out,” Kelly muttered. Nick winked at him.
“And if Bell’s not behind the gris-gris, who is?” Digger added.
Ty ran his hand through his hair. He dialed Zane’s number again.
“Who are you calling?” Kelly asked.
“Zane. I can’t reach him.”
“Man down,” Digger whispered.
“Shut up,” Nick hissed. He looked at Ty, frowning deeply. “Would he really disappear on you knowing what’s going down? That doesn’t seem like Garrett’s style.”
“It’s not,” Ty said as he listened to Zane’s voice mail message again. He ended the call and stuffed the phone into his pocket, staring at the floor as waves of prickling cold hit him. “He’s got him.”
“You can’t know that,” Nick tried.
Ty shook his head. “He’s got him, Nick.” He looked around his feet, searching for the crumpled piece of paper he’d found in Zane’s pocket.
“What are you doing?” Nick asked.
“Where’s the paper?”
“I put it on the counter in the bathroom.”
Ty stalked into the bathroom and grabbed it off the vanity. There was a phone number with the name. He dug his phone back out and dialed it, forcing his fingers to work.
After two rings a recording answered, a voice that had haunted his dreams for years.
“Wait your turn,” it said.
Ty gritted his teeth and forced himself not to leave a message that would have come out seething and incoherent and panicked. Instead he ended the call and stared at the phone, his world reeling. He had to think clearly, he had to get to Zane and do it now.
He slammed the paper back onto the counter and fought hard not to toss his phone. He hung his head, taking deep, calming gulps of air. His breath slid the scrap of paper across the marble, and Ty looked closer at it. Now he saw more on the scrap of paper. Streaks of yellowish stains.
“Irish!” he called. Nick appeared in the doorway. Ty picked up the paper, glancing up at the glaring vanity lights overhead. “Did something spill on it?”
“Not that I know of,” Nick said. He peered over Ty’s shoulder, then up at the hot light bulbs. “What’s it smell like?”
Ty sniffed the paper. “Citrus. Lemon maybe.”
Nick stepped closer and grabbed the hairdryer off its dock on the side wall. Ty flattened the paper out and Nick turned the hairdryer on the paper. The yellow streaks began to form words.
“Ugh, I knew I hated him when we were stationed together,” Nick grumbled. The words became clearer as the heat brought out the acid in the lemon juice. “He probably sat in a bar somewhere and used the damn lemon from his water. I hate him!”
Ty just shook his head, heart hammering as the words became clear. Liam Bell had slipped this piece of paper into Zane’s pocket, knowing it would make its way to Ty, believing Ty would keep a level enough head to find the message written here.
Liam was already outthinking him and Ty was already relying on luck.
2 AM. Jackson Square. Be there or your partner dies.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Ty growled.
Nick put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Easy, Ty.”
Ty slammed his hand against the paper. “I’ll kill him!”
He turned, but Nick grabbed him by both shoulders, holding him there and forcing Ty to meet his eyes. “Think, okay? Breathe.”
Ty lowered his head like a bull preparing to charge, but Nick faced him down, waiting for him to calm himself. Ty took a deep breath and nodded.
“Okay,” Nick whispered. He released Ty.
Nick’s phone began to ring from his back pocket, breaking the spell. Ty was shaking when Nick pulled the phone out and turned away from him. He glanced up, trying to stay calm, trying not to think of the things that could happen to Zane between now and 2 AM.
Nick cursed as he checked the caller ID, walking away. “Good afternoon, Detective,” he answered with a wince. He turned to Ty. “Of course, any way we can help. When would you like us to come in?” His eyes widened and he waved at Ty. “You’re coming to the hotel?”
He pointed to the phone and then to his feet. The detective was coming here to interview them again. “No, no, that’s fine. But I’m afraid Agent Garrett isn’t here right now, maybe we can delay it until he is.”
Ty shoved his phone in his pocket and rushed to the bed to grab his jacket. He couldn’t be caught in the room. He glanced at the others, and they both waved him toward the door. Nick tapped his watch and held up five fingers: five minutes to get clear.
Ty made a gesture to let them know he’d find them, then wrenched the door open, only to stop short when he found himself face-to-face with a man holding a phone to his ear and a badge, two uniformed policemen flanking him.
“Son of a bitch,” Ty grunted.
“Well, Tyler Beaumont,” the detective drawled. He shut his phone, and Nick cursed behind Ty. “I should have known you’d show up with a load of trouble and a couple fake badges.”