Fish & Chips Page 3

  Zane nodded distractedly as he studied Corbin Porter. The man was… arrogant. That was the word Zane was looking for. Arrogant. And possibly vain as well, but only to the point of knowing he was a fine-looking man.

  He was also confident and controlled. He had propped one ankle over the opposite knee as he sat casually at the table, one forearm resting on the edge. He wasn’t fidgeting or twitching. He was simply waiting. What gave him away was the anger sparking in his eyes and the tightness around his mouth.

  “Do you want to talk to him?” McCoy asked Zane.

  Zane slowly shook his head. “I’ve met his type before.”

  “He’s hardly a drug runner or a computer hacker,” McCoy pointed out.

  “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.

  McCoy had scheduled him for a “gentleman’s” treatment at a spa, where he’d been soaked and massaged, had his unruly hair cut in a more refined style so he could use this funky paste to slick it back, had his eyebrows waxed and plucked, of all things, and even had a deep-cleansing facial, where the woman had poked and prodded at his skin with a little metal tool for what had seemed like hours. It had been one of the weirdest and most painful things Zane could have imagined. It would be, he figured, a great interrogation tool.

  And the ear piercing had stung like a bitch.

  Now he was sleek. Polished. He’d had a manicure, so his hands looked
neater, less experienced in brawling. And a pedicure, which had actually felt pretty damn good. But the biggest change wasn’t immediately visible. Zane turned around so his back was to the mirror and looked over his shoulder, lifting his shirttails and pushing down the waistband of his dress pants to expose skin.

  A graceful twisted vine tattoo spread across his lower back from hip to hip, just below his waist, dipping down to the crack of his ass in an inverted triangle of stark black, simple, striking lines. It wasn’t real, of course, but the effect was still the same. He wondered what Ty would think about it. Ty seemed to love his own tattoo, but the leering Marine bulldog with its smoking guns was definitely more Ty’s style than this more graceful design.

  Sighing, Zane let his shirt fall. It was already open down the front, unbuttoned, exposing his chest. He hadn’t bothered to put his undershirt back on after the massage at the spa. He’d been in the process of getting ready for bed when he’d been arrested by the strange sight of himself in the mirror. He started to pull the shirt off his shoulders, but he heard a key in the front door and moved out into the hallway on bare feet, listening as someone entered the apartment. It could only be Ty; he was the only person Zane had ever given a key, and Zane never left a door unlocked. When Zane peered around the corner, though, a stranger stood there. It took him a little too long to realize it was Ty after all, and Zane was glad he didn’t have his gun in hand.

  “Don’t shoot me,” Ty said in a flat, tired voice, obviously thinking exactly the same thing Zane had been. He began to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt as he walked closer, tossing pieces of his clothing haphazardly to the floor and furniture as he approached Zane.

  “Are you just getting done with the—”

  “Yes,” Ty muttered as he yanked his tie off. His shirt fell open as he bent and pulled off his shoes.

  Zane looked over the long, tan body before him, his brows rising slowly the more he took in. The people at the spa had done the works on his normally scruffy partner. He was Ty, but… not. He was clean-shaven for the first time in months, and his short hair had been bleached an unnatural white-blond. It stood straight up, as if offended by its new color. Ty’s entire body looked retouched, his tanned skin shinier, smoother—and likely softer—than it had ever been. His well-defined chest was devoid of its usual dusting of dark hair, and the effect made him sleeker.

  Zane wasn’t sure what he thought of the hair, but the rest of Ty was a walking wet dream.

  Which was… hysterical, really. Zane blinked several times and pressed his lips together hard.

  “Go ahead. Get it out of your system,” Ty invited as he tossed his dress shirt at the couch. He waved his hand at his newly waxed chest.

  Zane let the smile loose. “You look….” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “Different,” he settled on, trying to not laugh outright.

  “Yeah? Well, you look sleazy,” Ty told him with a smirk as he looked Zane up and down critically. He took a few slow steps, circling Zane as he sized him up.

  Tipping his head to one side as Ty walked around him, Zane lifted one shoulder in a defensive shrug. “It’s the gel they put in my hair.”

  Ty shook his head, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he tried not to smirk. “No,” he drew out. “Something else.”

  Zane waited, sure that Ty would enlighten him. “You look airbrushed,” he observed once Ty stopped in front of him. “Like in a skin mag.”

  Ty lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, looking Zane in the eye as he mulled over a response. “Yeah,” he finally said slowly. His lips curved into a wicked grin. His hazel eyes seemed almost neon-green with the platinum-blond hair accenting them. “But I make this shit look good.”

  Zane raised an eyebrow as he pointed at Ty and twirled his finger.

  Ty clucked his tongue. He raised both arms to the sides, holding them out as he turned in a slow half-circle. The muscles of his shoulders and back were, as always, well-defined as he stood with his arms raised. The flex of Ty’s bicep drew Zane’s attention to the unblemished skin. It was odd not seeing the tattoo on Ty’s shoulder, but Zane was too distracted by the rest of him to ask about it. Ty turned his chin to look over his shoulder at Zane, and Zane could see a smirk on his lips. Ty never flaunted himself, not that Zane had ever seen anyway, but the man had a mirror. He wasn’t immune to a little cockiness, not when it was well-deserved.

  “The word that comes to mind is ‘beefcake’,” Zane drawled, looking Ty over, appreciating the view.

  “Mission accomplished, then!” Ty said happily as he turned to face Zane again. He frowned suddenly. “Is beefcake one word or two?”

  Zane laughed. “Who cares when you’ve got a great ass?”

  Ty narrowed his eyes. “I’m not used to you being the brains of the operation,” he murmured. “You know what I think we need? I think we need some practice.”

  “I wonder if I should be insulted,” Zane posed, narrowing his eyes as he set his hands on his hips. “I’m the one with a degree in statistics,” he reminded.

  “You’d seriously rather argue credentials than fuck me?” Ty asked with an incredulous laugh.

  “Well, if you’d said that,” Zane said as he took a couple of steps closer to Ty.

  Ty took a step back and put his hand on Zane’s chest, raising one eyebrow playfully as he used the other hand to point at himself. Zane now saw that Ty’s usually callused hands and fingers were now well-manicured and relatively smooth, making the newest scar on his hand even more noticeable. “Hold your horses, Lone Star. Are you calling me stupid?”

  “No way. I have a sense of self-preservation,” Zane said as he set his hands on Ty’s hips, their chests brushing.

  Ty bit his lip and sucked air through his teeth, raising his chin as if considering what Zane had just said. “Since when?” he finally asked softly.

  Surprised, Zane straightened, reviewing his words. He inhaled slowly, pushing away a slight dizzy feeling. Ty made him feel like that more and more lately. “Since I got a partner I trust,” he answered.

  Ty looked at him seriously as he stepped closer, letting Zane’s arms encircle his hips. He put one hand on Zane’s upper arm, fingers digging into his bicep. He reached up with the other hand to touch Zane’s face, gliding his fingertips along Zane’s lips as he looked him over. It was an odd gesture from his normally undemonstrative partner, one that struck Zane silent as he waited for Ty’s next move. He had expected Ty to make another comment or wisecrack, but Ty said nothing, letting his fingers slide down Zane’s neck, over his chest, down to his waist to disappear under the unbuttoned shirt Zane still wore. Zane shivered.

  “Care to help me get into character?” Ty whispered with a mischievous smile.

  Zane hummed slightly and pulled Ty flush against him. “What kind of help do you need?”

  Ty pushed up on the tips of his toes, brushing his parted lips against Zane’s. They were warm and moist, and Zane slipped his tongue out to wet his lower lip practically as soon as Ty pulled back and moved both hands over Ty’s body in slow, deliberate motions, coasting across that incredible-looking amazingly silken skin.

  Ty slid his hands up and down Zane’s chest and arms and then wrapped his arms around Zane’s neck—something Zane didn’t think he’d ever done before—and kissed him again. It was a soft, tantalizing kiss, one that begged for Zane to come and get more.

  Zane’s body reacted in a hurry: his pulse picked up, and he could feel his cock swelling in his pants. With a soft growl, he wrapped one arm around Ty and trapped him against his chest as Ty tried to take a step away. Ty laughed softly, and Zane answered the teasing kiss with a firmer, wetter one.

  Ty gave him a low moan as he arched his back just enough to press closer against Zane. The sound was something else wholly unlike him, at least at this stage in their fondling. He seemed to be trying his best to make Zane drag him to bed. If this was what he meant by getting into character… then damn. The passive-aggressive seduction was a hell o
f a turn-on and a successful enough tactic that Zane wasn’t going to worry about being manipulated right now. Instead, he slipped his hand into the back waistband of Ty’s suit pants and dragged his fingers around to the front, where he pulled at the button.

  Ty didn’t move to help like he usually did, just ran the fingers of both hands through Zane’s hair as he waited patiently for Zane to get his clothes off. It was so odd, Zane couldn’t help but chuckle. It was obvious Ty was enjoying the teasing. It probably wasn’t a role he’d ever had much opportunity to play. When Zane paused, Ty moved closer, pressing into him again as he nipped at Zane’s ear.

  “Doesn’t seem like you need much practice. What’s gotten into you?” Zane murmured as he dragged his lips along Ty’s exposed throat. He unfastened Ty’s pants and started pushing them down over his hips.

  “Nothing, yet,” Ty answered with a slow grin. “That’s your job,” he said softly, his breath gusting across Zane’s cheek.

  Zane groaned as he moved his hands to squeeze Ty’s ass and captured Ty’s lips with his own, this kiss hungrier as Zane shifted to grind himself against Ty’s thigh. It was a good thing Ty wasn’t this agreeable more often, he thought distantly. It was blowing Zane’s mind with how sexy it was. Ty would have him eating out of his hand if he behaved like this more often.

  He’d probably be better off not mentioning that.

  “Come on, beautiful,” Ty coaxed as he began to gently pull at him with the hand he had tangled in Zane’s hair. He steered him toward the bedroom door, kissing at him with those same soft, enticing kisses as he did so.

  Zane lifted his brows in silent comment, but he wasn’t about to speak and ruin the moment. He wasn’t willing to release Ty for one second as he let himself be drawn along. But he did stop them long enough to push Ty against the doorjamb and suck and nip along Ty’s shoulder. Ty raised his chin and closed his eyes, moaning wantonly again as he let his fingertips slide down Zane’s neck.

  “Fuck,” Zane groaned as he arched into Ty’s body and got them moving again into the bedroom. He wasn’t having any luck remembering if they’d done anything resembling foreplay before now. They each knew what the other wanted, and that was the release. But this new side of Ty was hot and seriously, almost painfully, arousing.