Chapter Fifteen

They used Livi and her incomparable charm to gain access to the private port on the Delaware River where her father kept his yacht. She sweet-talked one of the skippers into letting them take a small boat out for a "joy ride" and in less than an hour they had set sail down the Delaware toward open water.

By the time night fell, they had reached the coordinates they'd been given. They anchored there, bobbing in the choppy water to wait.

Zane and the others thanked Deuce and Livi for their help, and then went out on the cockpit to let Ty say goodbye. Zane watched through the window as he hugged Livi. She put her hand to her belly in a gesture Zane knew meant Ty was telling her he was happy for them. Zane's lips twitched in a smile. He liked Livi, and he couldn't wait to hear about her meeting Ty and Deuce's family. It also made him sad, though; he wouldn't be introduced to Ty's family in the same way she would be any time soon.

Ty gave Deuce a tight hug, holding onto him for longer than he usually did as he spoke to him. Then he handed Deuce the last of their cash, and Zane knew he was telling his brother to get out of town for a few days and not to use his credit cards.

Zane had to fight back a jangle of nerves. He had to believe that the CIA agents after them wouldn't hurt anyone unless they were in the path of Julian Cross. Deuce would be fine. He hoped.

A beacon of light on the water caught his eye and he squinted into the moonless night.

"Ty!" he called as a completely different type of nervousness settled over him. "He's here."

When Ty had mentioned Nick O'Flaherty's name, saying his old Recon buddy had a boat they could use, Zane was sort of expecting a dinghy. He had imagined Nick inhabiting some seedy apartment over an Irish pub in South Boston. That was the impression he'd gotten from Ty's oldest friend when he was blind and could only hear him speak. So he was surprised when a sleek, 60-foot Outer Reef 580 Motoryacht glided into the view of the little boat's running lights.

Julian whistled from the railing where he was watching the yacht. "Not cheap. I thought you said your friend was a cop."

"He is," Ty said as he checked the magazine in his gun.

"Is he on the take?"

Ty looked up to glare at him. He didn't answer, instead heading for the stern of the boat to call out to Nick and help him secure the gangplank they would use to switch boats.

Zane was scowling as he watched Ty and the shadowed figure on the other boat. Julian was right; that was not a bargain basement way to live. Zane found himself wondering how Nick afforded it.

He drew a steadying breath and then rolled his eyes. He shouldn't be nervous. Nick knew who he was, even if Zane had never laid eyes on Nick. He watched as Ty spoke with the man, able to overhear them in the still night.

"Let me guess," Nick's Boston accent said in amusement. "Strippergram?"

"Yeah, let us in so we can steal your watch in the morning," Ty muttered. The sense of humor explained why this man and Ty had become such close friends, but it also made Zane want to hate him a little more.

"We'd better get going if we intend to go unnoticed," Nick called out as soon as they had the gangplank secured.

They boarded the yacht one at a time, Zane's stomach in knots. Zane realized that he was desperately hoping that Mr. Nick O'Flaherty was an unfortunate looking individual.

It was a few seconds later when they all gathered in the salon that Zane truly got a look at Nick for the first time as he hurried past them toward the pilothouse. He looked about Ty's age, ruggedly handsome and clean-shaven with short strawberry blond hair and ivy green eyes. He was a few inches shorter than Zane, but then most men were. He was built solidly, not as broad as Ty or Zane at the shoulders, but obviously fit. Damn him.

He wore faded jeans, a thick cableknit sweater, and boots. The gun in his jeans told Zane he'd been expecting trouble.

They followed him through the boat, Ty moving into the pilothouse with Nick as the others stood in the galley in the middle of the yacht.

"Garrett, good to see you in one piece," Nick said with a nod as he slid into the pilot's seat.

"Well, it's good to see anything," Zane said, unable to look at Nick without thinking about how he had kissed the man he loved. He pushed that aside, for now.

"I think we got here clean," Ty said as he turned and waved for Julian and Cameron to join them.

"Same. What the fuck have you guys gotten into?" Nick asked.

Ty shrugged and looked around the pilothouse uneasily. Nick watched him, and then turned in his seat to look at Zane.

Zane didn't know how much Nick had been told, because Ty had spoken to him in Farsi on the phone. He stood in the galley of Nick's yacht, trying to think of anything to fill the awkward silence that didn't end with punching Nick in the face.

He couldn't come up with anything, and so they stood in silence as Cameron gave Nick a weak smile and stepped forward to shake his hand. "I know you don't know us. But thank you."

"Ty says you need help. You got it." He offered his hand to Cameron, then to Julian when the Irishman moved closer, introducing himself to each of them.

Zane pursed his lips as he looked around the yacht. It was sumptuous, all black leather and lacquered teak wood, shining stainless steel and top-of-the-line everything. The furniture in the salon was all built in; heavy and luxurious, with a large television in place on the wall that separated the salon from the galley. Stairs led from the galley to an upper deck. When Zane looked around, it didn't feel like it fit Nick at all. But then, he didn't know Nick very well.

"So," Nick said with false cheer. "Tell me about the people trying to kill you this time."

"The less you know . . ."

"Bite me, Grady."

"Bathroom?" Zane asked before the conversation could devolve further.

Nick pointed toward the steps that led down, right beside where he sat. "Take a right, that's the VIP head. Left is the Master. Whichever."

Zane headed for the stairs, feeling like he was descending into the pit as he ducked and hunched his shoulders to make it down the curving stairwell. He discreetly looked around the lower cabins to try and get a feel for the man who'd made a move on his lover just a few weeks ago.

The most prominent pictures on the walls were of Nick in uniform, surrounded by smiling Marines. Very similar to Ty's photos at home. Zane stopped and stared at one when he caught sight of a younger Ty. There were six men, all in various stages of dress, some standing, some kneeling, looking as if they had been roughhousing or playing during downtime while deployed on a carrier. Ty and Nick were front and center, wearing only pants and combat boots, both tanned from hours in the sun and salt air, their dog tags prominent on bare chests. All six men were grinning, arms around each other. Ty was holding a football, balancing it on the tip of his fingers as he displayed it for the camera.

Zane could hear Ty filling Nick in on the basics of what had happened, giving him the condensed version in typical Ty fashion. He turned toward the head before he could let himself get sucked into that vortex of uncertainty again. Ty may have looked happy in old pictures, but Zane knew Ty was happy now too.

When he returned, Nick and Ty were still discussing what needed to be done. Cameron was sitting in a corner booth that was tucked into the other side of the pilothouse, and Julian was looking askance at the low ceilings as if he might hit his head when he took a step.

"How long will it take us to get to DC?" Ty was asking Nick.

"A day, two if we can only travel at night."

"No, we need to keep a regular schedule. Travel by day, anchor at night."

"You sure?"

Ty nodded as he rubbed his hand over his face.

"Have you dumped your cells?" Nick asked.

"Cell phones, a few cars, credit cards, badges, guns, my watch. Everything we could think of that might have been bugged or can be tracked electronically."

"At least you're not wearing tin foil hats yet."

"Only when we sleep," Ty muttered.

"You told me on the phone that you called Digger. Was that true or were you trying to give me a message?"

"It was true. I told him that we were coming to him so whoever was listening could overhear, and then let him know that it was a decoy."

"Coconuts?

"Yeah."

"So, somewhere in the bayou, Digger is preparing for the arrival of an unfriendly?"

"In theory."

Nick glanced at Julian and Zane and then rubbed his hand over his mouth. "God help the poor bastard that shows up on his doorstep," he muttered.

Ty huffed a laugh. "We tried to lay low a couple places, but they kept finding us. I finally realized they were pinging the receiver in my watch. We headed to Philly, but... I can't risk Deacon."

"Understood."

Zane wondered if Nick had any qualms about Ty risking him. He didn't let on if he did.

"I pulled out the limit from every ATM I passed while I was on duty, so I've got a couple thousand for you. That's the best I can do, but I can give you my card when we make port."

"Thank you," Ty whispered.

Nick nodded and then glanced at the rest of them. "You all look like half-eaten sushi."

Zane found himself fighting back a smile, and he nodded instead.

"You're a police officer?" Cameron asked Nick, who nodded. "Isn't there something you can do? Someone you can call to help us?"

Nick looked at him for a moment with a sympathetic frown, and then he glanced at Ty.

"The CIA is slightly out of his reach, love," Julian murmured. He put his hand on Cameron's shoulder and squeezed, trying to comfort him.

"I'm sorry," Nick said, sounding sincere.

Ty met Zane's eyes, and Zane knew exactly what he was thinking. They were going to get Cameron out of this alive even if it killed them.

"These two need a bed together," Ty murmured to Nick as he waved a hand at Julian and Cameron.

Nick raised an eyebrow, but nodded without commenting. "You can take my cabin," he told Julian. He stood, making sure Ty had the wheel first, and then he gestured for them to follow as he ducked down the stairs. Julian and Cameron followed with murmured goodnights to Ty and Zane.

Zane moved to sit in the booth near Ty. He wasn't sure what Ty wanted to do, though he expected visiting with Nick to be high on the list tonight. Zane didn't really want to visit with Nick, though, and he sure as hell didn't want Ty doing it. It bothered him enough that Ty knew his way around Nick's boat. But he had to trust Ty, and it had to start somewhere, so why not here?

"You okay?" Ty asked as he fiddled with the controls of the yacht.

Zane pursed his lips. "Every time I look at him I want knock his lights out."

Ty shrugged as he kept his hand on the wheel, and then glanced down the stairwell. "So do it."

"What?"

"Do it, Zane. If it'll make you feel better, slug him."

Zane took in a deep breath, truly contemplating it. But he knew it wouldn't make anything better in the end, and he was suspicious of Ty's easy agreement.

Nick returned a few moments later.

"VIP cabin's all set up," he told them as he stepped into the galley and opened the refrigerator. He still had his gun stuffed in the small of his back. "Clean sheets and everything."

"Improvement over last time," Ty muttered.

"You had a sheet last time. And it was sort of clean."

"Yeah, on top of a pool float that was anchored to the flybridge," Ty said as he pointed up.

"You were on a pool float because it squeaked when you moved; we had to make sure you were still breathing!"

Ty gave a dismissive grunt and wave as he put the boat through its paces, apparently preparing to set it at anchor.

"Few years in a suit and Princess is suddenly too good for a pool float," Nick whispered to Zane with a smirk as he handed them each a water bottle. "I've got food, beer, sodas, and water in the fridge. Garrett, help yourself."

"Thanks," Zane said, half-laughing, wondering how often Nick got away with calling Ty a princess. He resented that Nick was a likable guy. He really wanted to hate him and be rude to him.

"Go on and sleep," Nick told them. "I'll get us settled for the night and keep watch."

Ty left the wheel and stood. He looked from Nick to Zane, as if waiting to see if Zane was going to deck Nick. When Zane didn't move, Ty took a few steps toward Nick and took his forearm instead of his hand, gripping it hard. "Thanks, Irish."

"You know it," Nick said, and then he nodded at Zane and turned to slip into the pilot's seat.

Zane followed Ty down the stairs to the smaller of the two cabins. There was what appeared to be a queen-sized bed tucked into the room, with wooden steps on either side to climb into it. Ty stuffed their bags onto a shelf that circled the bow-shaped room, then looked at Zane and smiled, albeit uncomfortably. He rubbed his hands up and down the material of his jeans just below the pockets, a nervous habit he rarely displayed when he couldn't find anything else to do with his hands.

"He's a decent guy, isn't he?" Zane asked, dejected.

"Zane."

"I really want to hate him."

"So hate him. You have every right. Being drunk is never an excuse to do stupid shit. You'll have to hate me too, though, ‘cause I was there and I kissed him back."

The words hit Zane in the chest like a sledgehammer. He stared at Ty until he realized that he wasn't breathing and he cleared his throat. His voice was flat when he spoke. "Really."

Ty let out a pent up breath, his shoulders slumping as he looked away from Zane, unable to meet his eyes.

"Did you like it?" Zane asked, his voice going lower, full of barely repressed anger that he was surprised to hear.

"Zane, come on, what's the point in that?" Ty asked, sounding frustrated and angry and possibly a little scared by the question.

Zane narrowed his eyes to scrutinize his lover. Ty had his lips pressed into a thin line, staring at him with his hands on his hips, his eyes unreadable.

"Yeah," he answered, spitting out the word. "A little."

Zane couldn't help the twisting sensation in his chest. He didn't want to think about that, and he certainly didn't want his very active imagination providing him with any visuals. He pressed his lips together hard and looked up at the low ceiling to let out a long breath. "I kind of wish I hadn't asked."

"I kind of wish I had lied," Ty said in a soft voice.

Zane shook his head. Ty stepped up to him, hesitant, as if he thought Zane might rebuff him. He reached out and touched Zane's cheek, stepping closer to brush his lips against Zane's chin.

Zane closed his eyes. Ty was being just as brutally honest as he always was, even if it hurt him and even if it hurt Zane. There was something comforting in that. It didn't wipe away the knowledge that Nick O'Flaherty was in love with Ty and had been for years, or that Ty had shared and enjoyed a kiss with him.

Zane set his forehead against Ty's cheekbone, letting his hands slide around Ty and pull him closer.

"Zane," Ty whispered, uncertainty clouding his voice.

"I know. It's okay. I just hate that you're so close to him."

Ty jerked his head and pulled back. Zane let him go. "I haven't spoken to him since he left Baltimore, Zane. I used to talk to him at least once every day, even if it was just a random text, but that's stopped. He's leaving me alone out of respect for you, for us, and I have to tell you, baby, I miss him."

Zane snorted in annoyance.

"But if that's what you need, I'll do it. Do you understand? I'll do anything you need me to do. Because I have never felt like this about anything, and I'm terrified of screwing up and losing it."

Zane held his breath, meeting Ty's eyes. "He's your best friend, Ty."

"If it's you or him, there's no question who I'll choose."

Zane was ashamed of the effect those words had on him. He felt like doing the Snoopy dance around the room. Instead, he said: "I don't want that."

Ty nodded. "Let it sit for a while. Okay? Let's just live through this first."

"Yeah," Zane murmured, though his eyes were drawn up, to where Nick still was.

Ty was silent. Finally, he swallowed hard and shook his head. "I know you're worried. Nick knows me pretty well. I think you'd probably have to go to Deuce to find someone who knows me better." He looked up, as if measuring his words. "He knows what love means to me, when he's not drunk off his ass like we were that night. It never should have happened and he knows it."

Zane had to deal with both a little spot of relief — that Nick knew better than to push — and a small spark of pain at the same time. It was true: he didn't know Ty as well as Deuce or Nick. Zane allowed himself a melancholy moment. Sometimes it seemed that Ty could read his mind, but Zane was still fighting through gauze when it came to Ty.

"They've known you a lot longer than I have," he said. "A lot of history there I'm not connected to."

"Stop it," Ty said gently. His voice was warm and affectionate, and his fingers slid up and down Zane's arm as he stepped closer and wrapped Zane up in a hug.

Zane huffed but smiled against Ty's shoulder. He liked that Ty knew him so well. It was like a splash of cold water to the face every time he started to sink into thinking he was a mystery. "So tell me something."

"Anything," Ty said in a low whisper. Just like the first time he'd answered with that, months ago in a tent, Zane's stomach did a happy flip. He steeled himself to ask the only thing he could think of just then.

"How the hell does Nick afford this boat?"

Ty's fingers came to a stop, and he seemed to be holding his breath as the muscles against Zane's body tightened. Then he sighed and relaxed again, his fingers dragging against Zane's neck as he stepped away.

"Come on, Ty, this isn't city cop salary stuff. This isn't even saving every dime he made in the Marines and eating Ramen noodles every meal."

"It's his home, it's where he lives. You ever asked yourself how I afford a historic rowhouse in the middle of Fell's Point?"

"Not really," Zane said with a frown. "I always figured you were just really adept at not spending money."

"Jesus, Zane," Ty said with a laugh.

"You never buy anything, you never have anything extravagant," Zane continued, mumbling as he began to feel sort of stupid for never wondering about it. "How can you afford it?"

Ty shook his head, looking up as if he could see the deck above them. He met Zane's eyes again before turning away. "I'm going to bed."

"Ty, come on."

Ty picked up the nearest pillow and chucked it at him. Zane caught it and threw it back. "You brought it up."

"It was a payoff, all right? When they kicked us out of the Marines they had to make sure we wouldn't go crying to the press, so they paid us a lump sum and sent us on our way."

Zane stared at him, not exactly shocked but close enough to it to gape. Ty closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"How much?" Zane whispered.

"Enough."

"Why'd they do it? What'd you guys get into?"

Ty turned to meet his eyes, then gave a curt shake of his head. "That's enough story time for one night. I'm going to bed."

"They've completely dropped off the grid again," Agent X said as he spoke to his superior.

"How is it possible that they keep evading you with two prisoners to keep under control?"

"I'm beginning to believe that Cross isn't a prisoner, sir."

"Excuse me?"

"I hesitate to conjecture, sir, but... I believe he thinks they're trying to help him."

"Why in God's name would he think they're trying to help him when all they want to do is deliver him to the man who wants him dead?"

"That I can't say. But why, sir, would they attempt to deliver him at all if they merely want him dead? Why not kill him in Chicago?"

"I don't know."

"Is it possible they don't know what they're doing?"

"Anything is possible, I suppose. We'll try to take them alive."

"Yes, sir."

"Hunting them down is becoming futile. I haven't heard anything from the team we sent to Louisiana. But we knew that was a ruse."

"Yes, sir."

"Come back to DC, we'll sit on the Federal building. We know that's where they're going. I'll send a team to Blake Nichols in Chicago. Perhaps we can find some clarity in all this."

"Yes, sir."

Agent X hung up the phone, looking at it in frustration. If Randall Jonas got his hands on Julian Cross, the last shred of evidence against him would be gone. Jonas was responsible for too many deaths. They couldn't let these FBI assholes deliver Cross to his death too.

Hours after crawling into bed with Ty, Zane still lay awake, staring at the stars through the windows, listening to the soothing sound of Ty's breathing. Ty's body was warm against his, something familiar in the midst of this absolute clusterfuck.

There was something incredibly romantic about where they were. The moon and stars were astounding out on the water, twinkling above them, unfettered by the lights of any city. He could hear the waves slapping against the hull, the creak of the boat as it bobbed at anchor. The gentle rocking under them would have been the perfect backdrop to curling up with his lover and making love all night long.

He shifted in bed, turning his head so he could look at Ty. He was trying not to think too hard about anything, but Ty was always at the forefront of his thoughts. Where the hell had the money come from? Why was Ty so uncomfortable with the subject? Was he telling the truth about the military paying them, or was that another classified cover? And then there was Nick.

When he'd first found Ty in the airport in Chicago, Ty had said he wanted to talk about a lot of things when they got home, to get everything in the open. Ever since, Zane had pondered what Ty could possibly have in mind. Obviously, Nick had been one of those things. He was angry and hurt, even though Ty hadn't really done anything wrong but react to a kiss and then admit to liking it. He hated the bond Ty had with Nick, but he also hated to ask Ty to give it up.

A glass clinked from above and Zane raised his head to listen. He heard another small sound and he slid out from under the covers, trying not to disturb his partner as he clambered out of the oddly-shaped bed. Ty usually would wake at the drop of a hat unless he was truly exhausted. All the driving and running and fighting had used up everything Ty had in him. He didn't even toss his head when Zane got out of bed.

Zane stood at the end of the bed and looked down at him, wondering about the panic that Ty had been feeling that night weeks ago when he'd left Zane asleep and bolted. Was there a force in nature that would make Zane walk away right now?

He shook his head, determined to let that stay in the past, and he grabbed his gun and headed up the stairs for the galley.

When he peered over the edge of the stair railing, he could see Nick standing in a weak pool of light coming from the sink. He cleared his throat to let Nick know he was there. Nick turned to look at him, glass in hand.

"Did I wake you?" he asked in a whisper.

Zane shook his head and climbed the rest of the steps, moving toward the little corner booth that was situated in the pilothouse. He set his gun on the tiny table and slid into a seat, turning to rest his elbow on the back so he could look into the galley. Nick had been really quiet, actually. Impressively so. Zane was just too attuned to noises in the night.

"Mind if I get a drink?" Zane asked, his voice hoarse and dry.

"What's your pleasure?" Nick asked as he turned to the refrigerator behind him.

"Water, tea, coffee, doesn't matter."

Nick messed around in the refrigerator and finally pulled out a plastic bottle of water. He set the bottle and a glass of ice on the counter between them with a flourish and smirked. "Caffeine'll keep you awake."

"I'll be awake anyway," Zane answered, but he pulled the bottle and glass toward him. "Thank you."

"No problem," Nick said with a nod. He picked up his own glass again and leaned his elbows on the counter top. "What's keeping you up? Aside from the people trying to kill you."

"I don't sleep much. Even when people aren't trying to kill me," Zane said, smiling.

Nick was nodding, watching Zane, though he probably couldn't make out much since the only light in the room didn't reach the corner where he sat. Zane wondered what Nick might talk about, if asked, or if he might share something about Ty that Zane didn't know. Ty was their common ground. It was just talk between new friends, right? Only this friend knew Ty was with Zane and he'd had his tongue down Ty's throat a few weeks ago.

Zane shrugged that imagery off. He'd have to deal with it soon, but he wanted to see what he could get out of Nick first.

"I guess none of us sleep much. Ty's down there muttering in Farsi," he said as a way to break the ice.

"He does that still?" Nick asked in amusement.

"Only when he's asleep or really, really pissed off," Zane admitted, sliding the glass back and forth on the table near his gun. He kind of enjoyed the dig, letting Nick know that Zane was the one who held Ty at night. It might have been beneath him, but he didn't care. "When he sleeps, he doesn't sleep quietly."

Nick gave that a melancholy smile. "We were all like that, to a degree. You can be disqualified from making Recon if you snore, but what they don't realize is that after half a year, every one of us talked in our sleep. Or screamed."

Zane emptied his glass and reached for the bottle to refill it. "I don't think that's something I've ever done. Talk in my sleep, I mean. Keep it bottled up, I guess." Not to mention that a large part of the time he'd been undercover, he was sleeping with someone—or someones—he didn't want knowing who he really was.

"Not healthy," Nick chastised, smiling and lifting his own glass to his lips.

"Are you a friend of Deuce's too?" Zane asked wryly.

"Ty's brother? I've met him a few times. I don't know, something about combining the Grady traits with psychological training didn't sit right with me. Made me nervous."

Zane laughed. "Grady traits? Like blustering out of tight spots and courage under fire?"

"And being crazy enough to pull off the impossible."

"Gummi bears."

"Cheetos. And that look, like he knows exactly what you're thinking and he finds it funny."

"I hate that," Zane muttered, setting down his half-full glass.

"Me too," Nick said, laughing and looking down at the ice in his glass again. "God, I miss him sometimes."

Zane looked up at him, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to imagine what it was like to miss Ty.

Nick was silent too, watching Zane in the dim light again and drinking his water without further comment.

Finally, Nick smiled and looked away with a shake of his head. "Ty told you, didn't he?"

It threw Zane for a moment, and he stared at Nick, wondering if he was headed for a showdown of some sort. "Yes."

Nick nodded, still looking down at the glass he'd set on the counter. "I was hoping he'd forget."

"He told me that night. As soon as he got home."

Nick nodded. "His brand of morality is pretty unique," he said as he looked up to meet Zane's eyes. He straightened and put both hands on the counter. "I owe you an apology."

Zane frowned, not sure how to handle the straightforward approach. "Am I actually going to hear it?"

"Depends," Nick answered with an easy shrug. "Do you deserve it?"

"Yes," Zane said, meeting Nick's eyes.

Nick raised one eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. "Ty told me he was involved with you, that he loved you, and I should have respected that. I didn't and for that I'm sorry," he offered, sounding sincere.

Zane nodded, noting how precisely Nick worded that apology. "Now tell me how you really feel," he said, keeping his tone dry. He didn't want to start an argument, but he did want to know where Nick stood. And he did still want to slug him.

Nick snorted and gave him a grim smile. "I think you're one lucky son of a bitch and I kind of want to hate you. The hell of it is, I know Ty. He won't come looking for me unless you give him a good goddamn reason to."

"I know I'm lucky," Zane said as he realized that the little bundle of nerves he'd always had to deal with when he thought about love and Ty just wasn't there. Was that confidence? Trust in his lover? Zane wasn't sure, but he liked it.

Nick lowered his head, shaking it minutely. "In that case, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for making a move on your boyfriend."

It sounded so absurd that Zane huffed a laugh. "Thanks."

"Yeah." Nick stood for an awkward moment, obviously not sure what to say or do.

"If you weren't so damn much like him I'd probably have been able to hit you," Zane told him, wondering where the urge to share was coming from and kind of wishing it would stop.

Nick looked up at him, expression guarded. "If we can be friends, it'd make our lives easier. And Ty's."

Zane nodded.

"You can tell he's tense. I've been wondering if that's because of me, or just life. But then, he never did like it when people tried to kill him."

"No one likes it when people try to kill them."

Nick smirked at that. He picked up his glass and turned to get more ice from the freezer. He moved deliberately, trying not to make any noise. He glanced toward the stairs again. When he turned back to the counter he reached for his own bottle of water to refill his glass.

"He said you've been on the run pretty much non-stop," he said to Zane. "You've got to be as exhausted as he is, why are you really up?"

"Honestly? You."

"Ah."

Zane glanced toward the stairwell, then back to Nick. "How close are you?" he finally blurted out. "I have no frame of reference, other than the oorah and your tongue down his throat."

"Whoa, okay."

"Well?"

"Right. Uh ... we met on the bus ride to Parris Island. Stuck together for the next... ten years, I guess."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Then you're going to have to be more specific."

Zane shrugged. "I don't know. I've never been able to really talk to one of Ty's friends before, besides his brother. I guess I figured you might have some insight."

Nick was already shaking his head before Zane finished. "Just treat him like you would when you unravel a slinky. That's the best I can give you."

"That's disturbingly apt," Zane murmured.

Nick's lips twitched as he looked down at the glass in his hand. Zane looked at him, truly studying him. He was beginning to understand why this man was Ty's best friend, coming out and kissing him aside.

"Anything else?"

Nick's smile fell and he nodded. "I've lost count of how many times over I owe him my life." He looked at Zane hard, narrowing his eyes in the darkness. "There's something you're dancing around," he said, confident in his assertion.

Zane sighed. He figured he must be really worn out if he wasn't hiding his emotions as well as usual. Nick was reading him, and Zane wasn't sure he cared. "I'm worried. This mess could go so bad so quickly, and you know him. He'll be right in the middle of it."

"Ty was made for messes. He and the cockroaches will be the only things to survive the final meltdown."

Zane looked down at the almost-empty glass he held and then set it carefully on the counter. "I wouldn't bet on the cockroaches."

Nick was quiet, but Zane could feel his eyes on him.

"You and Ty ... you were prisoners of war, weren't you?" he said, looking up to meet Nick's eyes carefully.

Nick inhaled sharply and rubbed his hand over his mouth as he looked away.

"I was wondering ... I don't want to ask him details. He doesn't know I know."

Nick looked down at the counter and shook his head, then pushed away from the counter and paced away, running his hand through his hair.

Zane winced. "I'm sorry, I . . ."

"I just, uh ... it's still classified. Not something I really like to chat about," Nick stuttered. He was truly flustered, and Zane realized that it didn't suit him.

"I thought maybe it would help me understand you two better. Understand him better. I'm sorry, I . . ." Zane shrugged. He had worried about asking Ty the details, but he hadn't even considered the effect the mention of it would have on Nick. He realized that it had been cruel to bring it up. Despite wanting to hate this man, Zane found that he didn't.

Zane's words hung in the air between them. Zane wasn't sure if Nick would give him details. Zane wasn't sure that he wanted details, but he felt like it was something that had forged Ty into who he was now.

Nick returned to the counter, watching Zane, looking like a man with something heavy on his conscience. It was another look that didn't suit him, and Zane frowned as a shadow crossed Nick's face in the weak light.

"We were in captivity for over three weeks," he told Zane without being prompted again. "Twenty-three days, nine hours, and fifty-one minutes."

"Jesus," Zane whispered.

"We were captured when our Chinook was taken down by an improvised rocket-assisted mortar. We're not really sure how it happened; one minute we were in the transport, the next we were both waking up in a cell. The investigators said that the five us who were in the middle of the helo were thrown. He and I were the only two taken. They think it was because we were further from the wreckage. I don't know. We were detained, questioned, and tortured for information."

Zane shook his head. It was worse than he had imagined. He had guessed months ago that something had happened while Ty was in Afghanistan. Little clues had dropped over time, and Zane had collected them: Ty's incessant nightmares and nocturnal muttering. Fear of small, dark, enclosed spaces. Hating being restrained or even forced to sit still for long. Recognition of interrogation tools and techniques. The POW sticker on the Bronco. The words Zane had overheard when Ty had spoken to Nick. And then Nick had confirmed it.

But when Nick laid out the details, it was so much worse than Zane had feared. Almost three weeks in captivity, being drilled for answers and tortured.

Nick gave him a moment to let the reality sink in, and possibly giving him a chance to stop the narrative. Then he continued. "Ty kept pissing them off by speaking in different accents every time they questioned him." He laughed. It was a bitter, thin sound. "He spent a whole day pretending he was Russian and telling them they were doing it wrong."

Zane couldn't help but smile. That sounded so much like the man Zane knew. Even in the midst of an ordeal like that, he was still Ty.

"They kept us together in a cell that wasn't big enough for either of us to stretch out in. But we had each other, kept each other sane. When they'd come and drag Ty out, leave me there alone, that was the lowest I'd get. They could torture me all they wanted, do whatever they wanted to me. But sitting in that cell alone, wondering if he was coming back... those times are where my nightmares go." Nick swallowed hard and looked away, his green eyes glistening as he tried to force the emotions back so he could continue. It affected Zane as well, and his chest already hurt in sympathy.

"Finally they started getting desperate. They realized that we were drawing strength from each other. Instead of separating us, though, they tried to drive a wedge between us. They'd take us out together, make us do the work. If we didn't hit hard enough, we had to hit again. If we didn't cut deep enough, we had to cut again. I don't know how long it really was, but we estimated it was about a week that we spent torturing each other, beating the shit out of each other at gunpoint."

Zane let his eyes fall closed. He had taken enough of Ty's punches in the past to know how bad that must have gotten. He and Nick both must have been beaten to a pulp.

"But it didn't work," Nick murmured triumphantly. "They wanted us to resent each other, turn on each other. It just made us stronger, more determined to live through it together and escape. I don't think they really knew what to do with us. We wouldn't crack, we wouldn't die, they weren't willing to execute us. Ty wouldn't shut up."

His eyes began to peer off into a distance only he could see. Zane watched him, apprehension and nerves swamping him. He could sense that Nick hadn't reached the worst part yet.

"Then they came up with something that would work." He looked up at Zane, his hard eyes coming back into focus, bright with anger and memory. "One day they strapped Ty down to this table. I could hear the noise from my cell, and I knew from the way he was fighting, he thought he was going to die."

The thought hit Zane hard and he closed his eyes, wondering if he should ask Nick to stop. But morbid curiosity got the better of him, and he forced himself to open his eyes again.

"When they got him tied down they brought me in there with him. They had him bent over the table, a rope over his back to hold him down. His hands were handcuffed behind him. They put cuffs on me and I thought for sure they were going to make me cut him open." Nick shook his head, raising his chin and glancing at the ceiling. "Then they told me I could either tell them what I knew, or I could fuck him on that table with a gun to both our heads. And if I didn't do it, they'd do it for me."

Zane stopped breathing as he stared at Nick, suddenly frightened out of his mind. He'd expected to hear about torture, but not that. Was that what had happened to Ty to make him hate being held down?

Nick sat silent, eyes on the window, fingers trembling on his glass as he recounted what had to be one of the most terrifying, difficult experiences in his life. In anyone's life. Zane dimly remembered that Ty told him once that they shouldn't compare wounds. Now it made terrible, crystal clear sense. He felt sick.

Nick's voice wavered when he continued. "I was ready to tell them everything. I would have. Anything they asked, I would have given it to them. Everything Ty and I had stood for and fought for, I was ready to hand it over just like that." His eyes welled and he closed them, possibly ashamed at the memory, but that just forced the tears out and a pair tracked down his handsome face without him seeming to notice. "But Ty..."

Zane knew without a doubt what Ty would have said, and he closed his eyes against the pain of it.

"He told me to do it." Nick nodded as he said it, as if affirming what Zane had already guessed. "He ordered me. Fucking pulled rank, like I cared at that point. He was still a Marine and that's all he cared about. I couldn't process what they were going to make me do, what Ty was ordering me to do. I was standing next to this table, my best friend strapped down on it, a gun at my head, trying to decide whether I was a Marine with brass balls like Ty, or a coward. And Ty told me to kiss him." He laughed suddenly, the sound oddly incongruous with the story he told. "He had to tell me twice. And when I did he slipped a key into my mouth."

Zane's heart seemed to lurch back into beating.

Nick hummed deep in his throat, the sound both content and somehow ominous. "We didn't leave anyone in our path alive."

Zane could barely get in a breath to speak. "So you didn't have to—" His voice broke off, and he didn't try to continue. He didn't want to know, and yet he had to.

Nick's green eyes focused in on Zane again, as if he was just remembering that he'd been telling Zane the story instead of reliving it by himself. His eyes flickered away and he shook his head. "No. I don't think either of us would have come back from that."

The relief almost knocked Zane over. He gripped the edge of the table with one hand to stay balanced. After what seemed like a silent forever, he spoke in a hoarse voice. "That explains a lot about you two."

Nick nodded and swallowed hard. "I was in love with him. I'd already made up my mind to tell him after our tour was over. Consequences be damned, I just needed him to know. But after that..." He shook his head and cleared his throat. "There are some friends you don't risk for your own peace of mind. Some things... at the time it wasn't worth the risk of losing him."

"Last month when you . . ."

"I knew I'd already lost him."

Zane nodded. "And now?"

"Now what?" Nick asked. He leaned against the counter, body relaxed again as if he'd taken a weight off his shoulders and handed it to Zane to carry. It struck Zane as singularly unfair. "Am I still in love with him?"

"I know you still love him," Zane said. "I know he loves you. Maybe not the kind of love you want, but ... What I want to know is what you plan to do about it."

Nick sighed sharply, as if the question annoyed him. "I've known Ty for twenty years, Garrett. I was enthralled with him after the first week." He shrugged. "But time blunts these things. If you want us to stop caring about each other, you're shit out of luck. We did three tours in Hell and that kind of thing bonds you to a person for life. But if you're asking if I intend to make another move on him, the answer's no. I've regretted what I did every day since." He was still meeting Zane's eyes, unwavering, and somewhere deep down Zane could feel the warrior in him, feel the dangerous, capable, upstanding person he could be if he wanted. He was like Ty in so many ways.

He didn't know Nick, but he knew Ty. He trusted Ty, and he knew Ty wouldn't do anything to hurt him. But hearing the words from Nick, receiving the promise that he wouldn't make another advance, that he regretted doing it in the first place, it did ease some of the worry in Zane's mind.

"Garrett. He's never looked at me like he looks at you," Nick said in a soft voice. "He's never looked at anything the way he looks at you. Besides. He hates the Sox. We'd never work."

Zane huffed and shook his head. "You're kind of a dick, you know that?"

Nick shrugged.

"Thank you."

"Least I could do," Nick whispered.

Zane stared at him for another minute, trying to wrap his mind around all the things Nick had told him, and telling himself that this man was and would always be a huge part of Ty's life.

"I think I'm going to try to sleep."

"Probably a good idea," Nick said. "I've got your back tonight."

Zane stood and carefully didn't examine the feeling those words gave him as he pushed his glass toward Nick. "Thanks," he murmured as he turned away. He made his way back down the steps to the cabin where Ty lay asleep, but Zane knew he wouldn't be sleeping easily tonight, not after learning what he had.

He crawled into bed, seeing his lover with new eyes as he pulled the covers up around their shoulders.

Ty muttered something in the foreign language Zane was becoming used to and rolled away from him, pushing back at him so Zane would hold him. Zane scooted up behind him, wrapping him up and pressing against his warm body.

"Are you awake?" Zane asked, barely letting the words come out.

Ty hummed and pushed closer to Zane. "No."

Zane smiled, letting his fingers drag against Ty's skin. As conducive to romance as the setting may have been, all Zane wanted to do was hold Ty close and sleep with him in his arms.

Ty turned his head. "Did you hear what you needed to hear?"

Zane pulled him closer. "I think so. Yeah."

The next morning, Nick was guiding the yacht toward Washington DC, and the rest of them were huddled in the booth where Zane had sat last night, trying to come up with a plan.

"Look, I don't care if you're the big bad assassin, and I'm not intimidated when you glower at me. You're not coming with me," Ty was saying to Julian as the two men went in verbal circles.

"I refuse to be dragged along any longer. We will have a say in our next move, or I will leave you bound and gagged during the night for the Coast Guard to find," Julian growled.

Ty slammed his hand against the table and pointed a finger in Julian's face. "Why can't you talk like a normal person?" he shouted in frustration.

Julian snorted in disdain and crossed his arms.

"Fine! When we make port, you come with me to headquarters, Cam stays somewhere safe with Garrett, and you start using contractions when you talk to me or I swear to God—"

"Agreed," Julian said in annoyance.

Ty grumbled as he grabbed up his coat and stalked toward the steps that led to the flybridge, where there were more places to sit in the open air. "I need air," he snarled to the rest of them.

"What exactly is s wrong with the way I talk?" Julian asked as he got up and followed him up the steps.

"I hate you and shut up. Why are you following me?"

"Because air is free," Julian shot back before they slammed the hatch door closed and muffled the rest of their argument.

Quiet reigned for a full minute before Zane started to chuckle, a wry smile on his face. He tipped his head sideways to look at Cameron. "I really do think they enjoy it."

Cameron shrugged. "I know Julian does."

"Reminds me of Thanksgiving with my parents," Nick muttered as he sat at the wheel, still examining the nautical chart he'd been reading when Ty and Julian had started in on each other.

"As long as they both come back intact," Cameron said, pushing away his coffee cup and standing. "I'm going to take a shower." He disappeared down the steps.

It left Zane acutely aware that he was sitting alone with Nick.

There was silence for a long moment, even the rustle of the paper had stopped. Finally, Nick turned and looked at Zane over his shoulder. "Ty does love a good nemesis."

"Ty could start an argument with Gandhi if he put his mind to it."

"You should have heard him and Sanchez go at it. Four different languages, neither of them ever understood the other. A Latino guy screaming in German and a mountain hick shooting off French back at him."

Zane snorted.

"Hey, listen ... You said last night that you wanted to understand him better."

Zane looked up at Nick and nodded.

Nick reached into his jacket and pulled out a CD case. "I dug this up. It's uh ... it's a bunch of videos we took while we were in service." He handed it to Zane. "Thought maybe you and Ty could watch it together."

Zane blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the simple gesture. He recognized it as the peace offering it was. He reached out to take the CD case and looked from it to Nick. "Thank you."

Nick nodded and then turned his attention back to the charts and navigating the waters toward DC.

"Sidewinder, right? Where'd the name come from?"

"That's just what they called us. I think it was because no matter what they sent us into, we always managed to slither out of it."

Zane laughed. Yeah, that sounded like a team Ty would have led. "Did Ty have a call sign?"

"Nah, that's just pilots," Nick said after a minute or two. "We had nicknames. They changed every couple months depending on who moved in and out. But Ty was team leader, meant we just called him Six."

"He didn't have a nickname?" Zane asked.

"None he'd want me to repeat," Nick muttered, a smile in his voice. "Just Six."

"You better damn well call me when you're safe," Nick told Ty as they stood around Julian, shielding him as he jimmied the lock on a car parked in the parking lot of the public marina where Nick had rented a slip.

"Someone will. Check on Deacon for me, okay?"

"Done."

"And go home. Don't stick around and get caught in any blowback."

"Ty."

"Promise me, O. You'll go home."

Nick huffed but he nodded.

Ty met his eyes for a few seconds. He didn't look scared. But he didn't look confident, either, and that made Nick nervous. Ty's biggest asset was his ability to make those around him think he was bulletproof.

"Are you sure you don't need another gun?"

Ty shook his head. "This isn't your fight, O. And if things go bad, we need someone who can tell what went down."

Nick felt a ball of cold steel settle in his chest. He hated being left on the sidelines, but Ty was right. He nodded, and Ty turned away from him to slide into the car Julian had unlocked. He sat in the driver's seat and reached between his legs to mess with the wires underneath the steering column, and in a matter of about thirty seconds Ty had hotwired the car and had it running.

Nick waved as they drove off, the old blue Chevy Suburban lumbering through the parking lot and turning out of sight. Nick took a deep breath and tried to settle the nerves that prickled through his chest. Ty could handle himself, and Nick had seen enough of Zane Garrett to have formed a confident opinion of his skills as well. The man was formidable, a good match for Ty. And Julian Cross was a piece of toast that would always drop butter side up, but Nick wasn't sure if being lucky would do them much good. Even the luckiest dog in the litter had its bad day.

He was turning to head back to the dock and his boat when he caught sight of a black SUV turning the corner on the other end of the parking lot. The windows were tinted, and there was nothing remarkable about it except for the thick antenna on the roof.

It stopped in the middle of the lane, and Nick stood there and looked at it for a few seconds. The SUV revved its engine and Nick broke into a sprint for the gate to the dock as the SUV roared down the lane toward him. It hopped the curb and barreled down the sidewalk as Nick reached the gate and shouldered through it. He could hear the doors slamming behind him as he sprinted down the dock, and when he heard the gate give way he leapt onto his boat and rolled to the deck so he could crawl inside without being open to gunfire.

There was nowhere to run; he would never get the 580 moving in time to escape. All he could do was buy enough time for Ty and the others to make it away cleanly. He scrabbled through storage compartments, tossing life preservers over his shoulder and finally hitting gold. He grabbed it and kissed it, murmuring to it as he scrambled to the galley, where he'd have the most cover.

When two men in dark suits kicked down the heavy oak door in the salon, Nick stood behind the galley partition, aiming a double-barreled shotgun at them.

"Oh, son. You broke down the wrong door today," he said with sadistic glee before he opened fire.