Ty winced. It wasn’t a name anyone had called him in years. Possibly a decade. He liked the way it rolled off Zane’s tongue, but he didn’t like the echoes of the past that came with it.
Zane leaned toward him, putting his lips to Ty’s ear. “I think I’ll stick with Bulldog.”
Ty turned his head to capture a quick kiss.
“Oh, stop,” Nick drawled. “I’m going into a diabetic coma over here.”
“I find myself fascinated by it,” Kelly said as he stared at Ty. “I can’t even come up with an appropriate comparison.”
“Stop trying,” Ty grunted. He brushed his thumb over Zane’s palm.
They settled back to enjoy the silence of the night, something the Recon team had done so many times over the years. Silence was a commodity where they’d spent most of their time. They had learned to appreciate it. And Zane was a man who inherently knew the value of silence.
Ty’s mind drifted over the many years they’d spent scratching and clawing their way through battle after battle. He and Nick had been together since the beginning, their promotions never more than a few months apart, their achievements linked in ways not many people understood.
Sanchez had come next. He’d put in for Recon at the same time as Ty and Nick, and it hadn’t taken long for him to fall into step with them. The others hadn’t arrived until they’d moved up to Force Recon, and then the six of them had been inseparable until the day they’d gone home.
And then Sanchez had come with Ty to the FBI.
“I miss him too,” Nick said.
Ty nodded and swallowed hard. Kelly sniffed.
“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Nick said.
Ty took a deep breath, not surprised that Nick had known exactly what he’d been thinking. “He called me for help,” he whispered. “I didn’t answer it, and two days later he was dead.”
“Ty,” Zane whispered. “Jesus, is that why you always answer your phone?”
Ty nodded curtly.
Zane’s hand tightened in his.
“You wouldn’t have saved him, Six,” Nick murmured.
Ty’s throat tightened and he looked away. He covered his mouth with his beer bottle and slumped further into his chair. Zane’s hand in his offered more consolation than their words, though.
“Eli . . . he went out with his boots on,” Kelly said. He shook his head and took a drink. “That’s the only comfort there is in losing him.”
“And you know what? Zane took care of it,” Nick added.
Zane flinched, and he leaned forward to look at Nick. Nick raised his beer bottle in a salute.
“That’s right,” Kelly said. “Zane handled that shit. Like a boss.”
Zane barked a laugh. “Thanks. I think.”
Ty gave Kelly an incredulous glance. “How long has he been drinking?”
Nick shrugged. “Since we got here.”
“He’s not climbing back down there.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘falling,’” Kelly muttered. “Falling.”
Nick reached across Ty’s lap and tapped Zane on the knee. “We know how you handled it, Garrett. And to us, that means you’re our brother too, you know?”
Ty watched Nick’s profile as the man settled back in his chair, throat constricting again. Nick calling someone his brother was the ultimate in acceptance from him. There was no higher honor in Nick’s mind.
“I, uh . . . thank you,” Zane stuttered.
Kelly leaned forward, holding his beer up. “To Sanchez.”
Ty swallowed hard and held his beer out. Zane joined with his water bottle. The glass clinked as they each said a solemn, “Oorah.”
“Happy birthday, buddy,” Kelly said as he stared out into the night sky and finished off his beer.
Chapter 4
It was over-warm and stuffy in their suite, and Zane woke up feeling half-suffocated. New Orleans in late April was pleasant after the chill of Baltimore, but it seemed the air conditioning was having trouble keeping up. It didn’t help that he was half-draped over Ty as they slept.
He slowly extricated himself from Ty’s arms and sat up, rubbing his eyes before looking down at his lover, who lay sprawled beside him. The heavy curtains blocked the morning sun, and he could barely see Ty as he tossed and turned.
Ty wasn’t an unusually restless sleeper, a fact at great odds with his waking hours. But now he seemed unsettled. He tossed his head and shifted his legs, a soft groan passing his lips. He rolled onto his side, his shoulders beginning the slow, rhythmic rocking that often kept Zane awake.
Zane watched him for a few moments, wondering if it was a dream that was causing the grimace on Ty’s face. He got up to head for the bathroom, only to find Kelly and Nick both tangled on the floor at the foot of the bed. He knew they hadn’t made it back to their room last night, but they had both started on the pullout sofa. It must have been uncomfortable as hell to make them move to the floor.
Nick was using a pillow Ty had tossed him in the middle of the night, and Kelly was using Nick’s stomach to rest his head as he snored. Zane snorted.
He rolled his eyes and stepped over them to head for the bathroom, where he took his time, brushing his teeth, shaving, savoring the silence of the early morning. He fumbled in the dark for the pile of clothing he’d left last night and grabbed his pants to hunt for his cigarettes, remembering too late that his lighter had gone missing. “Dammit.”
He was surprised when his fingers brushed the tip of the lighter, though, stuck down in his jeans pocket. He dug it out, and a piece of paper came wrapped tightly around it. Zane scowled as he unrolled it and held it up to the sliver of weak light coming through the part in the curtain to read the words scrawled on it. It was a phone number and the name “Liam” in small, neat lettering.
Zane snorted. He remembered Liam’s hand at his hip. Had the man pickpocketed him just to make an impression? He’d certainly forced a memorable way of lighting his cigarette. He’d stolen Zane’s lighter, then put it back with the number around it. Impressive. And just a little flattering. Also creepy.
Zane glanced at Ty, smiling fondly as he thought about just how riled his lover would get if he saw that note. Ty didn’t consider jealousy a part of his emotional spectrum, but it sure as hell was. Zane would always be more flattered by that than a stranger’s number in his pocket. He balled it up and dropped it and his jeans back to the floor. He’d smoke later.