They each offered mumbled hellos in turn, looking at Ty oddly as they did so.
After a short awkward silence, Zane spoke up. “So theres a planned something going on? The thing you forgot?” he prompted Ty. Ty held his breath, looking from Zane to the other four uncomfortably. They all looked at him expectantly. “Im sorry!” he finally blurted. “Its been a rough week, okay? They blew up my Bronco, then they blew up my partner, and I got a little distracted.”
Kelly and Digger looked at each other pointedly. “Revenge kick,” Kelly decided. “No doubt,” Digger agreed.
Ty gave them both a disgusted grunt.
“Hey, dont worry about it,” Nick offered easily. He looked over at Zane. “Wed planned to go out in the woods and play some paintball this weekend,” he explained for Zanes benefit. “We do it every few months. It was Gradys turn to host.”
“Sounds fun,” Zane said, a little more energy in his voice this time. He must have been listening to who was standing where, because he turned his head toward Ty. “You should go.”
“We just had this conversation, Garrett,” Ty said in frustration. “Im not leaving you alone until you can see or theyve caught the bomber.”
“This sounds pretty heavy,” Nick commented drily.
“Welcome to my f**king life,” Ty snapped. Nick merely laughed at him. “We dont have to go anywhere. If we stick around Grady, we can probably shoot real guns eventually,” Kelly offered as he sat down on the couch behind him. He had been their Navy corpsman, the medical officer. Hed gone through the same training they had and then some. He was slim and wiry, with unremarkable brown hair and eyes a variable color between blue and gray. His manner was unassuming and affable, but he was the only member of their six-man team whod been undefeated in sparring matches. He was hell on wheels with or without a weapon.
“I flew from f**king San Diego. Im shooting something,” Owen announced irritably. “I hear that,” Zane muttered. “Look. They changed the locks at my place. I can go there. I know my way around better there anyway.” He was sounding sensible, in front of witnesses, and Ty wanted to throttle him for it. “You can visit with them and come check on me in the evenings if you want.” Zane gave him a ghost of a smile. “Ill have dinner delivered.”
“Were you two the targets?” Nick asked.
“No,” Ty answered curtly, still glaring at Zane.
“Maybe,” Zane corrected.
“Its possible,” Ty granted reluctantly. “Look, I cant leave town right now. A bombers targeting municipal and federal law enforcement and rescue crews, banks are being robbed all over the place, the citys going nuts—”
“Well, arent you Mr. Doom and Gloom,” Digger observed with a smirk. He was a good-looking man, his skin so dark that theyd never had to paint him with grease oil on a mission to hide him in the dark. His accent was deep Louisiana, which meant half the time he wasnt coherent and the other half he was bitching at them for not answering his questions.
“Anything we can do to help?” Nick offered as the others settled onto the couch together. They reminded Ty of the no-evil monkeys, lined up in a row. He frowned at them suspiciously.
“ Please take him out of the house for at least a few hours and make him burn off some energy,” Zane said immediately. “I can hear him bouncing. Go down to Fells Point or something nearby.”
“Youll be bouncing down the stairs, traitor,” Ty snapped. “Okay, then!” Nick said with a laugh. He stepped up and put his arm over Tys shoulders as if to restrain him. “Well pass on paintball and just bum around the city for a few days. In case you need us,” he said to Ty. The others nodded and murmured in agreement.
“Usually end up with paintball welts on my nads anyway,” Owen grumbled as he examined his fingernails with a frown.
“Thats cause you always bend over and try to kiss your ass goodbye,” Kelly told him sensibly. Ty rolled his eyes. Nick spoke over them, ignoring the running commentary from the couch. “Garrett, why dont you come with us to dinner? We wouldnt mind getting to know Tys partner, especially since hes gone this long without trading you in or hitting you.”
Zane smiled for the first time since the guys had come in. “Well, youre half right.” He shrugged. “Im game. We havent eaten yet.” “Great!” Nick said as he looked at Ty triumphantly. “Weve never met one of Tys partners. We were starting to think they were just a myth.”
THE Greene Turtle Sports Bar & Grille attracted a busy crowd in the evenings. It was a popular hangout in Fells Point, located along the cobblestone roads that lined the harbor, its tables inside and outside always full and busy with a mix of locals and tourists. It took several minutes of waiting before the team plus one could get a table big enough for all of them to spread out. Nick knew it wasnt Tys favorite hangout. He always took them a few streets over, to a hole-in-the-wall bar called One-Eyed Mikes. He must have brought them here out of consideration for Zanes blindness.
Nick watched as Ty walked Zane in, staying close, holding his elbow. This Zane Garrett seemed to trust Ty a hell of a lot. He hadnt questioned Tys instructions even once as they walked the few blocks here and wound through the crowd to a table near the TVs in the back. Ty got him seated in the corner where people wouldnt bump into him and thumped down in a chair beside him.
When Ty finally got settled and glanced toward Nick, Nick gave him a questioning look and nodded his head toward Zane. Ty shrugged easily, letting the unspoken question slide off his shoulders in a way only Ty could. Nick was going to have to get his old friend alone soon and interrogate him.
Until then, he slid into the seat next to Ty, leaning over him to look at Zane. “So give us the story,” he told them both. “Zane, we need a new supply of embarrassing Grady tales.”
Zane grinned, though his eyes remained downcast. He set one hand on the table in front of him, closing his hand around the edge. “Well, there was this time at the Chinese laundry—”
“No,” Ty broke in urgently. He raised his hand to call the waitress over, ordering five drinks by holding up five long fingers and then twirling his index finger around the table. Nicks eyes followed the motion, then moved to look at Ty. He looked worn out, not as apt to go spinning toward the ceiling as the Ty Grady Nick knew so well.
“Theres six of us, man,” Owen interrupted. “Whos not drinking?”