Chapter Four

"We should be getting close," Zane said as the cab cut through the architectural jungle of downtown.

"How do you want to play it? Go in soft or heavy? Good cop, bad cop? Shoot first and ask questions later?" Ty asked with a hint of sarcastic amusement.

Zane shrugged. "Are you expecting trouble?" He slid his hand into his new jacket out of long habit to check his weapon.

"From this guy? Almost certainly," Ty said. "Dick talked about him like he was Batman."

"How so?"

"Long list of connections to the CIA, organized crime, a laundry list of arms dealers and mercs, foreign and domestic."

"Why does Burns want him? And why us?"

Ty was silent for a moment. "I've learned not to ask those questions," he said as he looked at Zane with a smile to mitigate the harshness of the words.

Zane nodded. He looked at Ty with warmth he probably shouldn't have been feeling while officially on the job. Ty seemed closer than he had been just a moment ago, close enough for Zane to smell him, the unusual musk of sandalwood that was so unlike Ty and more familiar combination of Tide, gun oil, leather, and sweat that turned him on like crazy. But Zane felt a pang of yearning for a whiff of Old Spice.

"I'm also expecting him to not actually be at this address. If he was this easy to find, he wouldn't be Batman," Ty said, drawing Zane out of his reverie.

"If he's there, it would be novel for it to go so smoothly," Zane said as the cab came to a stop in front of an old building converted into condos.

Ty checked his gun and got out as Zane paid the driver, who didn't even blink at the weapons and nodded when Zane told him to wait. Ty clucked his tongue, trying his best not to smile as Zane joined him on the curb. Ty had been told not long ago that he shouldn't enjoy the almost-getting-killed part of his job as much as he did. Zane didn't know who had said it, but Ty had been making a concerted effort ever since to hide his unholy glee during melees. It was still pretty clear to Zane, though.

He surveyed the light traffic passing by on the side street. It was evening, and there weren't many people out and about. Hopefully that would work in their favor.

"Ready?" he asked Ty.

Ty glanced up and down the street, then nodded and stepped up to the double glass doors of the building. They would have to be buzzed in, which never helped the element of surprise. Ty stared at the panel for a moment, obviously contemplating how to go about it. He glanced back at Zane and shrugged one shoulder, then pushed the number they'd been given.

After a short pause, the small speaker clicked. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jimmy!" Ty practically shouted, startling Zane. Ty's words slurred as he leaned toward the speaker. "Dude. You should not have left early tonight."

There was a short pause. "I think you have the wrong apartment."

"Come on, man, don't be like that! I swear I didn't know you were into her! I left my good pants on your couch. If I go in to work hungover in my boxers again, they'll can me for sure. Four strikes and you're out, brother!" Ty bit his lip to keep from laughing as he turned his head away from the speaker box.

Zane grinned and shook his head, covering his mouth and reminding himself that they were trained federal agents. Professionals. In theory.

"You've got the wrong apartment. There's no Jimmy here."

"Oh," Ty drew out. "Shit, man, I'm sorry! Didn't mean to go buzzing you so early in the morning." The last glance at his watch had told Zane it was nearing six in the evening. "But hey, do you know Jimmy, man? Could you grab my pants for me?"

There was a longer pause, long enough that Zane thought the man on the other end of the speaker had abandoned the conversation. But then the box clicked again.

"There's no Jimmy here. Buzz somebody else." The words ended with some ring of finality.

Ty clucked his tongue again and shrugged at Zane. "Worth a try," he told his partner with a smirk. He reached out and hit another button. A moment later a woman answered. "Delivery."

"I didn't order anything," she said brusquely, and that was that. Four more tries later—one no answer, two immediate denials, and a bizarre conversation with a stoner about the phases of the moon during which Ty had way too much to offer, in Zane's opinion—Ty huffed in frustration.

"How many more are you going to try?" Zane asked. They didn't really have the time to call the Chicago field office and ask for a warrant. Not to mention that would go over really well with Burns, who obviously wanted them to keep this as low as it could go. Was this the kind of thing that Ty was always doing for Burns?

Ty glanced at him stubbornly and pushed a button at random. Zane rolled his eyes. As soon as there was an answer, he stepped closer to the speaker and said, "Federal agents, ma'am."

"Nice try, asshole," the woman said smugly; then the speaker box clicked off.

Ty growled dangerously. "I hate this town," he muttered as he took his gun out from under his coat.

Zane straightened in mild alarm. "What are you doing?"

Ty yanked a glove off one hand and wrapped it around the butt of his gun, then turned smoothly and rammed the handle into the glass door. The mottled glass cracked and shattered, but there was mesh wire embedded inside that kept it from falling in. Ty used the muzzle of his gun to clear out the window, ripping through the wire, raining pieces all over the sidewalk and Ty's feet. He reached through the iron bars and pushed the handle, opening the door and holding it for Zane with a gallant wave of his hand.

"Why, thank you, sir," Zane drawled as he walked through the mess, already thinking of ways to make sure Ty would be the one writing up the report for this trip.

"Assholes," Ty muttered as he looked up at the floor display above the elevators. He stopped in front of the fire alarm and looked at it for just a moment too long for Zane's comfort. Zane cleared his throat pointedly.

Ty looked at him almost guiltily and then followed him toward the stairwell. Zane didn't know if there was any sort of alarm on the door or not, but they needed to move a little more quickly regardless.

The condo they had targeted was on the second floor, not nearly a long enough hike up the steps to pacify Ty's annoyance. Zane pushed past him and started checking doors until they found the number they'd been provided. He glanced at his partner, knocked on the door, and listened to what sounded like a rush of feet that immediately retreated. Zane frowned and reached out to rap on the door again, but someone approached from the other side and stopped. Zane figured the man was looking out the peephole, so he held up his badge. Behind him, Ty did the same. "Federal agents."

A bolt slid and the door opened just a bit, blocked by the chain, and a slim, wholly average-looking man peered out.

"Cameron Jacobs? I'm Special Agent Zane Garrett, and this is Special Agent Ty Grady. We're looking for Julian Cross."

Cameron stared through the four-inch gap as he studied the two tall, capable-looking men holding out badges that looked pretty official. They could be federal agents. Or not. With Julian's past business, there was no telling who might come looking for him. It was the "or not" that was scaring Cameron right now, and his hand gripped the doorjamb so tightly that it hurt. "I don't know who that is."

"Perhaps you know him better as Julian Bailey?" the man called Special Agent Grady said drily. "Or Sir? Maybe even Boss?"

Cameron frowned as he shook his head. Surely federal agents would be nicer than this. He looked them up and down. And better dressed. "I'm sorry, but you have the wrong . . ." He frowned harder as he remembered the last time he had said those words, maybe fifteen minutes ago. "Was that you on the speaker?" he asked in outrage.

The man who had introduced them smiled slowly. To Cameron, it was like a dangerous animal showing its teeth. He frowned, looking over the man's windblown, curly hair, piercing eyes, and a crooked nose that had probably been broken at least twice. The smile was probably meant to put him at ease.

Special Agent Grady flipped over the badge he'd been holding and pulled aside his leather jacket to slide it into an inner pocket. The move revealed a fairly large weapon in a holster under his arm. Whether he did it on purpose didn't really matter; his point was made.

"Would you mind opening the door so we can have a word, Mr. Jacobs?" Special Agent Garrett asked in a businesslike tone. "Or you can just point us toward Cross and we'll be out of your hair."

"I do mind," Cameron objected, his back straightening as he pulled his hand back to slam the door shut.

Grady's hand shot out in a flash, stopping the door from closing. He stepped closer and lowered his head, as if he might be about to share a secret. Everything about him screamed military to Cameron, from his gruff tone to his quick reflexes to his impressive athletic build.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble it is to fix a chain that's been ripped off a doorjamb?" Special Agent Grady asked calmly. "Or how much it hurts my shoulder to put it through a solid oak door? This is oak, right? It's very nice."

Cameron pushed hard against the door, and it made no difference at all. He glanced at Special Agent Garrett, who was taller, darker, and not offering any sympathy. This was not looking good. Not at all. So Cameron nodded jerkily and reached to unhook the chain, aware that Julian would read him the riot act for this.

Of course, Julian would yell at him for opening the door in the first place. But only a little bit.

Chain undone, Cameron took several steps back and gathered himself to reach for his phone and Julian's speed-dial emergency number as he watched his four calf-high white Westies charge the strangers entering the apartment.

Special Agent Grady moved in slowly, his body turned almost sideways as his eyes scanned the room. His hand was on his weapon.

Cameron had seen Julian enter rooms in a similar fashion, and it set off even more warning bells. The man looked down at the four dogs and balked, side-stepping and gesturing for his partner to come in.

It was Cameron's chance. Cameron reached into his pocket for his cell phone and fumbled with it, trying to be inconspicuous about it.

He hoped that he managed to hit the key combination for the prewritten text he needed to send.

Special Agent Garrett shut the door gently, and the strangers moved steadily into Cameron's condo. The more he watched the agents, the more they reminded him of Julian. They were on guard but confident. "I don't know who you're looking for. There's no one else here."

"We know," Grady told him. He smiled and nodded to the pocket Cameron still had his hand stuffed into. "He'll be here soon, though. Take a load off, kid. It won't be so bad." He stretched out broad muscles and rolled his neck, the movement shifting his coat, revealing a specialty T-shirt. Grady turned to look down at the yipping dogs in distaste, and then he looked up at his partner.

Special Agent Garrett tipped his head to one side before focusing on Cameron. From twelve feet away, his eyes appeared to be flat black, and Cameron felt like he was pinned in place.

"How do you know Mr. Cross, Mr. Jacobs?" he asked. His voice was calmer than Special Agent Grady's, more polite, if still a bit cool.

Cameron pressed his lips together in a bid for silence. At least this was one of the possible scenarios Julian had outlined for him when they had set up the alert system. Despite Cameron's protests, his dangerous lover had insisted he'd rather come here to protect him and eliminate the problem than stay away in dubious safety.

Movement caught his eye, and Cameron glanced up to see one of Julian's large orange cats sinuously padding around the screen that sectioned off the bedroom. It was Smith, followed closely by Wesson.

The two very big cats stopped mid-stride upon seeing the strangers, and Cameron could have sworn he heard one of them growl.

"Now see, that's what I'm talking about," the churlish agent said as he pointed at the cats. "Those are guard dogs, Zane. Pound for pound the most effective killing machine in the world."

"So you say, Meow Mix," Garrett answered. He sounded like he was humoring his partner. Zane Garrett, Cameron remembered from the door. And Ty Grady, he reminded himself. Garrett and Grady. It sounded like some obnoxious men's clothing store. Zane pointed at Ty.

"You keep your hands off the wildlife."

"Shove it, Garrett," Ty said with a huff. He moved around the couch and knelt several feet away from Smith and Wesson. He reached out his hand. "What are they, Maine Coons?" he asked Cameron with what seemed like genuine interest.

Cameron watched as the man put himself well within range of a serious tangle with pain. He swallowed and glanced at the digital clock next to the television. It had been three minutes. "Yeah," he said quietly.

"Ty, I said keep your damn hands to yourself," Zane snapped. "We don't have time for a field trip to the hospital if that cat decides it wants a taste of you."

Ty blithely ignored his partner, still holding out one hand and talking to Smith and Wesson in a low voice, a smile on his face. He turned and glanced over his shoulder at Zane. "If the big one didn't eat me, I think I can deal with two little ones."

Smith and Wesson sat side by side, watching him in the way only a cat could watch an inferior being. Cameron figured he looked like he was watching Ty like the man was an idiot. He also wondered what cat the man could possibly have tangled with that was bigger than Smith or Wesson.

Zane gave an aggrieved sigh and walked a little further into the room, though Cameron noticed he kept both the front door and him in sight. "We're not going to bite, Mr. Jacobs," Zane said, trying to placate him, Cameron could tell. Zane's lips twitched. "No more than the cats, anyway."

"The last stranger who messed with them ended up with stitches from temple to lip," Cameron mentioned to Ty.

Ty merely made a clicking sound with his tongue, not moving as he continued to hold his hand out to the cats. Wesson began to move slowly, slinking toward him. "Come on, handsome," Ty crooned to the cat. Smith lowered his head, his tail twitching as he watched, but Wesson continued to move toward him. He sat and graciously allowed the man to rub one finger under his chin.

Cameron's jaw dropped. Those stupid cats wouldn't even let him touch them, and he'd been living with Julian for over a year now. He swallowed his feeling of dread. If this guy got hold of Wesson and hurt him, Julian would maim him, and that would be a mess. A moment later, Ty had gathered the big cat into his arms and was standing again, holding him over his shoulder, rubbing his ear gently. He turned to grin at his partner. "Like playing the bagpipes," he joked about the large feline.

Cameron could hear Wesson purring from where he stood across the room.

Zane shook his head, clearly exasperated. "Make yourself at home, Ty. Want to check the fridge, see if there's any beer?"

Ty snorted loudly at him and shook his head. He bent and set the cat down carefully, giving his ear a last twirl with one long finger before standing back up and brushing at the cat hair on his shoulder, then looking at his watch. Wesson wound his large body around the agent's ankles, still purring to the point he was almost vibrating. Cameron had never seen anyone besides Julian handle either cat like that.

Ty bent to pick the cat up again, turning him upside down and holding him like a baby in his arms as he rubbed him under the chin.

Cameron's jaw dropped.

"Come on, Zane, don't be scared of a little pussy," Ty told his partner with a sly grin. Zane circled one finger in the air, dismissing the... insult?

Cameron's brows lifted about as far as they could go. "You two are supposed to be FBI agents?" he asked in disbelief.

"And your guy is late," Ty commented as he nodded. He watched out the balcony doors for a long moment before he set the cat down and calmly reached into his coat to pull his weapon. He glanced at Zane with narrowed eyes, and then nodded toward the door as he checked the gun in the same manner Cameron had seen Julian check his, with utter calm and competence. Zane pulled a gun out from under his jacket, handling it capably.

"Mr. Jacobs, will he come in firing, or will he be concerned for your safety?" Ty asked, without a hint of real worry that Cameron could detect. It seemed like both men were accustomed to the idea of imminent peril.

But they didn't know Julian. He was a whole different level of danger.

"Don't worry about me," Cameron murmured. He shook his head and crouched, calling for the dogs. He gathered them and put them into their playpen in the far corner of the room. His gaze settled on Smith and Wesson. While the two cats tolerated him because Julian kicked them out of bed if they didn't, they didn't like him that much. Cameron wasn't too sure he could get them back into the bedroom without damage to himself. So they'd just have to take care of themselves.

Ty and Zane moved together in the middle of the living room as if drawn by magnets, putting their backs to each other, standing maybe four feet apart. Zane faced the door while Ty faced the balcony, synchronized like they'd been doing this a long time. The dogs began yipping plaintively, and Smith and Wesson both sat down in the opening to the bedroom, ready to enjoy the show.

Cameron cocked his head, listening. He could hear nothing over the complaining of the dogs.

The door burst open suddenly, kicked hard from the hallway, splintering the doorjamb. Julian's gun was drawn already, trained on the two so-called federal agents. Zane was already facing him, gun up and pointed. Ty didn't turn to face Julian. He kept his gun trained on the silent balcony.

Julian moved into the room, hulking and livid. He pointed his gun at Zane, and the two men stood there aiming at each other, silent as they sized each other up. Cameron was struck by the strong resemblance between them.

"Julian Cross?" Zane finally asked evenly.

Julian answered by pulling back the hammer on his gun.

Cameron saw the trigger move. It was just a tap away from a bullet now. He swallowed hard and forced himself to keep his eyes open. But Zane didn't even blink.

"We're here on orders from Richard Burns, assistant director of the Criminal Investigations Branch of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, to call on your status as a registered federal informant," Zane rattled off efficiently, neither his weapon nor his voice wavering.

Cameron's eyes widened in surprise as he saw Julian's gun waver ever so slightly.

"And we would appreciate it if you'd put that gun down," Ty added without turning around. "And tell your buddy I don't appreciate the feeling of his crosshairs on my forehead."

Julian's eyes darted between them and Cameron. "Are you okay?" he asked Cameron.

"Yes," Cameron said, resisting the urge to run over to his lover. He was using Julian Bailey's American accent, and Cameron remembered that Julian had told him that was a warning sign, that it meant he didn't know or didn't trust the people they were with. "They didn't touch me."

Julian's black eyes moved back to pin the man in front of him. "Put your weapon down. Then we can talk."

"I'm telling you right now, Cross, tell your buddy on the roof next door to stand down," Ty interrupted in a gruff voice.

"Put down your weapon and we'll discuss it," Julian repeated slowly.

"Don't think I won't shoot your Irish ass just ‘cause I'm a Fed," Ty growled. "We don't need you to be walking."

Zane's gun was still trained on Julian. As far as Cameron could tell, he hadn't even twitched as Ty talked.

Even though Ty wasn't even looking at Julian, the threat still made Cameron shiver. Somehow they knew Julian wasn't American. Cameron had to swallow hard on a fresh wave of fear.

And Cameron didn't know how Ty knew someone else was out there at all. Cameron knew that it was Preston, Julian's ever-present, forever silent driver and cohort, which meant that if Ty even twitched he'd be on the floor, and Zane wouldn't be but a second behind. Cameron really didn't want corpses of federal agents in their apartment.

"Julian, please."

Julian waited another breathless moment before lowering his weapon. He eased the hammer down and then held it up sideways as proof that he'd done so. He slid it carefully back into its hiding spot.

"My man on the roof stays trained on your partner while you show me a badge," he bargained.

He held up his hand in a signal to Preston. Cameron looked between Julian and Zane as Zane moved the hand bracing his gun and slid it into his jacket. He pulled out a leather wallet and tossed it to Julian.

Julian caught it deftly with one hand, flipping it over to look at the identification within. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at Zane.

He made a "quit" motion with his hand toward the balcony. "You can tell Richard Burns to stick it," he finally said as he handed the wallet back.

Zane snorted as he pocketed the wallet and lowered his weapon somewhat. "If you know Burns, you know that won't help."

Julian's eyes darted between the two men. "Get out," he ordered.

"Also won't help," Zane said, sliding his gun under his jacket. "We're here to escort you to DC. If we don't get you there, someone else will, and much less comfortably, I assure you."

Julian's shoulders tightened. He lowered his head and shook it. "I told them before. I will not be involved. I'm sorry you've wasted your time." He glanced at Cameron, his expression softening. "Perhaps you should see the sights before you go home, make the trip worthwhile," he told the two agents. His voice was polite, but he couldn't fool Cameron. He was angry and tense.

Though Zane was the one talking now, Cameron paid more attention to Ty. He still had his gun out and in hand and was staring devotedly out the balcony doors.

"No misunderstanding, Mr. Cross," Zane said, his voice genial enough under such odd circumstances that it pulled Cameron's attention away from Ty. "This isn't a request."

Cameron stiffened when Zane's eyes turned to focus on him speculatively, and Cameron bit down on his tongue to keep from blurting out what was sure to be a stupid question.

"Then so be it," Julian finally answered stubbornly. "Anyone else looking for me will follow the bread crumbs you've left behind you, no doubt. The longer you're here, the more you become my problem."

"Okay," Ty said impatiently as he stuffed his gun into his holster and moved around the couch, approaching Cameron. "Mr. Cross, I understand you won't be accompanying us to Washington willingly, is that correct?" he asked brusquely, continuing before Julian could answer. He moved toward Cameron as he extracted a pair of handcuffs. "Cameron Jacobs, you are under arrest for harboring a federal fugitive."

"What?" Cameron yelped, putting his hands behind his back and backing away. "Harboring a fugitive? Julian, what is this?"

"Stay calm, love," Julian requested, though the undertone in his voice told Cameron he was having trouble following his own advice.

Whoever these two men were, they knew physically threatening Julian would have no effect on him, and physically threatening Cameron would just piss him off. Arresting Cameron, however ...

Ty gripped Cameron's elbow and pulled at him, turning him around with alarming strength as he clasped one cuff on his wrist.

Cameron looked up at Julian, hoping he knew what he was doing.

"You're bluffing," Julian said as he looked at Zane. "You have no grounds to arrest him, and you can't force me to Washington."

"Actually, yes, we do, and yes, we can," Zane replied. "It would be a shame to find an unregistered firearm in Mr. Jacobs' possession, especially if he threatened a federal agent with it."

Cameron gasped. "That's awful and you know it!"

"Yeah, you're breaking my heart." Ty's hand tightened on Cameron's shoulder as he secured the handcuffs, and his voice was low and gruff in Cameron's ear. "You have a good evening now, Mr. Cross," he said in a louder voice, pushing Cameron in front of him toward the door.

Cameron tried to dig in his heels, but he was no match for Ty. Both the FBI agents were closer to Julian's size than his, and since the top of his head did well to reach Julian's nose, he wasn't much problem for Ty to push around. But Cameron was determined to stay calm, like Julian had told him, though it wasn't looking good as Ty propelled him forward. At least he was almost certain these guys wouldn't kill him.

"I'm sure you have ways to find us," Zane told Julian as he walked toward the door, somehow managing to look casual but keep facing Julian the whole time. He was still holding his gun. "If you decide to change your mind."

Julian sidestepped, stopping their progress. He didn't budge as Ty moved Cameron toward the door. Ty's fingers dug into Cameron's shoulder to stop him.

"Zane, I think Mr. Cross is a little more attached to Mr. Jacobs than we realized," Ty said casually to his partner.

"Well, leave it to intel to miss important little details like that," Zane muttered. He offered Julian an insincere smile. "Your choice, Mr. Cross. In a manner of speaking."

"Either get out of the way or have your man on the roof shoot us," Ty told Julian, sounding as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Julian narrowed his eyes. He glanced to the side, looking at Zane as he held up his hand and slowly reached into his coat with the other.

He extracted his cell phone carefully and slid it open. He looked back at Ty as he pressed a button and put the phone to his ear. "Preston," he said slowly. "Shoot the stupid one."

"Julian!" Cameron snapped, annoyance flaring. Julian was supposed to be helping them!

Julian shrugged. "What do you mean, which one?" he said to Preston, whose voice could barely be heard on the phone.

"Let me guess; Preston drives the clown car?" Ty asked, unimpressed.

"Preston, don't you dare!" Cameron yelled at Julian's phone. "How is this going to help?" He looked around at the three men, and Cameron realized what a mess this was. There was nothing here but a lot of testosterone. He hoped. "Are you going to keep threatening each other or is something going to happen besides someone dying on our floor?"

Zane raised an eyebrow. "He's got a temper," he observed as Cameron pulled at Ty's immovable hands.

Julian closed the phone in his hand in disgust and glared at the two agents. "You realize you put both our lives in danger with this stunt."

"We can live with that," Ty said. "Now do you want to do this nicely, have time to pack your Uzi in your underwear, or do we get to cuff you and drag you out?"

Julian's jaw tightened. "I won't go without Cameron."

"This isn't a vacation, Cross," Zane said.

"He's exposed now, thanks to you. I go with you willingly on the condition I keep him by my side."

Ty was already unlocking the handcuffs on Cameron's wrists. "Tell the clown on the roof to protect him," he told Julian. "Not our job."

Cameron darted straight for Julian once Ty let him loose, moving to stand behind his imposing lover. "Is this something important? This informant stuff?"

"Not to me," Julian said as he slid one hand into Cameron's, squeezing his fingers. He hadn't taken his eyes off Ty, who was holding up the handcuffs and smirking.

"You look like the type who enjoys these," the agent drawled.

Julian sighed in a rare show of exasperation. "Are you two really the crack team they sent after me? This is almost insulting."

"What you see isn't always what you get," Zane said. He glanced at Ty for a long moment, and Ty sniffed, looking somewhat disappointed that he didn't get to use his handcuffs. Zane looked at his watch. "Fine. Jacobs goes with. We've got two hours to make our flight to DC."

Cameron pressed against the back of Julian's arm. "Julian, I can stay here with Preston and Blake," he said, naming the two men who often worked with Julian on his clandestine "jobs", his driver and his boss. Cameron still wasn't exactly sure what Julian did, but he knew for certain he didn't want details. He slept better at night without them.

Julian turned his head, looking back at Cameron while still keeping an eye on the two men. "Preston and Blake will be busy. Go pack a bag. Quickly. Please," he was careful to tack on.

"What about the animals?" Ty asked. "Who the hell needs this many dogs anyway?"

"What's wrong with being a pet-owner?" Cameron asked.

"Yeah, you pronounced ‘hoarder' wrong."

Glancing around, Cameron kept his mouth shut and looked to Julian for direction. Julian was looking at the agent with the equivalent of a glare for his stoic lover.

"Preston will take care of them," Julian answered, jaw tight.

Cameron swallowed hard, and after one last look at Ty, he hurried over to the bedroom to pack for both he and Julian. Zane followed behind him, intending to watch what he packed. Cameron glanced at the man uneasily. He had only an inkling of what was going on, but he did know they were in deep trouble this time.

Ty turned and watched Cameron disappear into the bedroom. He looked back at Zane and shook his head. It wasn't a great idea to take the boyfriend along. Two prisoners would be harder to handle than one, but it could prove a useful way to control Julian Cross if he got unruly. Zane took a few steps toward the dividing screens of the bedroom and stood where he could watch Cameron's movements and see what he was packing in his bags.

Ty ran a finger along his eyebrow and turned to stroll into the center of the room again, looking out the balcony doors at the roof of the building across the street. He'd seen the dying light glint off a piece of glass on the roof as he'd been petting the cat and recognized it for what it was. How the sniper had gotten up there so quickly was the real question. It didn't matter, but it bothered Ty.

Ty smiled crookedly and gave the man on the roof, Preston, a cheeky little wave.

He heard Zane snort. He stayed across the room, keeping between Julian and the door and keeping Cameron within his line of sight. Not that it looked like either man was going to run.

"You do realize that you're going to be held in a federal cell or safe house for the length of this thing," Zane said to Julian. "You really want him stuck there with you?"

"I sleep better knowing he's not in harm's way," Julian said. He looked at Ty. "He will shoot you, you know."

"You told him to shoot the stupid one," Ty said as he pointed at Zane.

"Yeah," Zane said. "The one standing out in the open in front of the window, waving at the sniper."

"The one that knows where the sniper is to wave at him. If he was going to shoot me, he would have." Ty looked at Julian. "Does that kid have any idea what you're about to drag him into?"

Julian was silent, glaring at Ty for a moment before looking away and sighing.

"That's a no," Zane said. "Does he know what business you've been working in?"

"That is none of your concern. You and I both know I'll never set foot in a cell or a courtroom if I make it to DC. We know what this is. He doesn't need to."

Ty looked at Zane, trying to conceal the question in his expression. Apparently Cameron Jacobs wasn't the only one being kept out of the loop.

But Julian was perceptive, and he caught Ty's look. He laughed and shook his head. "No one told you. They just sent you here like good little errand boys."

Zane leveled a look at Ty that would have crushed a lesser man, but Ty was immune. He also had no clue why Zane wanted to be such a hardass in front of this guy. The Batman types were the most fun to annoy.

"We're supposed to escort you to DC, Mr. Cross," Zane said. "Anything beyond that is need-to-know."

"Someone must really have it in for you two."

Ty rolled his eyes. He half suspected the man was just trying to screw with them, but he knew Richard Burns well enough to think he probably had kept something from them. Ty was used to it. That was just the way Burns operated. Ty trusted him implicitly. He didn't ask questions.

"Look, O'Doul, I have the patience of a bouncy ball right now, so how about shutting your mouth and getting your friend in there to hurry the hell up?"

"Ty," Zane said in that quiet, calm-down voice that Ty hated.

"Zane," he responded in the same tone. He turned to Julian. "Get him out here. I don't care if he's packed."

"Cameron?" Julian called without taking his eyes off Ty. "The irritating one is getting more irritating."

"His name is Ty," Cameron called back from behind the screen.

Ty saw the big man give the entry to the bedroom a curious glance, as if wondering why he should care what their names were. Ty snorted at them both in annoyance. He glanced at Zane, raising one eyebrow and tilting his head toward Julian. They would have to restrain him before leaving. There was no way they could trust him. Ty was all for using Cameron to keep him under control, but they were damn sure tying Cross up and making sure he couldn't do any damage either way.

"He's got five seconds," Ty said as he looked at Zane for one more moment.

"Cameron," Julian called. "Unless you want the irritating one to help you pack, I suggest you hurry."

"He always do the heavy lifting for you, Cross?" Ty asked the man in a low, amused voice.

"Yes, he does. Cooks and cleans too. Makes me feel more like a man," Julian said without a hint of sarcasm. "Wanker."

"At least you'll have someone to argue with," Cameron said as he emerged with two bags, one on each shoulder, one of which Julian took as soon as Cameron stopped beside him.

"I would prefer to shoot him, not argue with him," Julian mumbled. He adjusted one of the straps and looked up at Ty and Zane, raising his chin. "I suppose you'll be wanting to confiscate my weapon?"

Ty glanced at Zane and smirked. "He's got the stiff upper lip going now," he said as he pulled his gun.

"That would be the British," Julian said.

"Same thing," Ty said, knowing it would upset an Irishman. He pointed his gun at Julian's feet. "Guns on the couch. Mr. Jacobs, if you would please join my partner over here," he said with a tilt of his head at Zane, mimicking Julian's proper speech, "he'll be kind enough to handcuff you again and frog march you downstairs."

"Do you work at being this rude?" Cameron asked. Ty could hear Zane choking on what might have been a laugh.

"I said please."

Zane was tamping down a smile as he took Cameron in hand and cuffed him. "Now, Mr. Cross," Zane said, "I'm betting that you're going to be quite willing to cooperate as long as we treat Mr. Jacobs well."

"Is not treating me well a possibility?" Cameron asked, his voice wavering as he kept his eyes on Julian.

Julian shook his head as he looked at Cameron. He extracted the weapons hidden on his person and put them on the couch as he'd been told, continuing to keep his eyes on Cameron. They seemed to be communicating. Ty recognized the way one lover could speak to another without words. He cleared his throat and moved toward Julian with care.

The man put his hands up behind his head, but something about him still made Ty wary. He could almost smell the capabilities of the man. He very carefully moved his hand up one of Julian's arms and down the other, then slid the handcuffs onto one wrist and clicked them into place.

"Those are some impressive cats," he said as he holstered his gun and used both hands to secure Julian's behind his back. "How long have you had them?"

"As long as they can remember," Julian answered without looking away from Cameron.

Ty looked over the man's shoulder at Zane and rolled his eyes. He snapped the other cuff down hard, then patted him down. He found a long sliver of metal embedded in each sleeve, just at the cuffs, but no other weaponry.

Julian sighed in annoyance as Ty removed the lock pick pieces.

"Poor hired killer, took away his toys," Ty said in mocking sympathy. "We're good," he said to Zane, patting Julian on the back.

"Don't worry, Mr. Jacobs," Zane said. "You'll be in DC in about seven hours, and dealing with us will be but a happy memory."

"Thank God for small favors," Julian murmured. He turned. "That second bag is quite heavy. Do mind your back, Agent Grady," he said with utmost sincerity, then smirked and began moving toward Zane and the door. Cameron shifted away from Zane as Julian approached, but he didn't try to move any further.

"If we want to make the plane, we need to go now," Zane said.

Ty thought seriously about leaving the bags on the floor, but even he wasn't that much of a bastard. He bent and hefted both bags with a muttered curse. He nodded, turning one last time to salute the man he knew was probably still on the opposite roof, watching them through a scope.

"Let's get this show on the road," he grunted as he headed for the door. "Mr. Jacobs, you're going to need to stop cowering. Garrett won't hurt you. Much."

"Actually, in my experience, it's the tall, dark, and silent types who are the most dangerous," Cameron said as he preceded Zane out the door.

"Oh Christ, he's one of those, isn't he?" Ty muttered.

"You have no idea," Julian said in return.

Preston watched through the scope of his Parker Hale Model 85 as the two agents led Julian and Cameron out of the apartment and shut the door behind them. He raised his head to look down at the street and the cab waiting.

One thing was certain after seeing the face of the man waving to him in his scope, he couldn't just take them out from up here. He didn't know why, but the man looked familiar. He didn't wait for them to emerge on the street, instead packing up and moving as he pulled out his cell phone. He dialed the only number he really could in this situation.

"Hello, sir," he said as soon as Blake Nichols answered.

"I know you call Julian ‘sir' to annoy him, but do you really have to do it to me too?" Blake asked, amused.

"I apologize, sir, but we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Blake asked, tone changing.

"Two federal agents have just taken Mr. Cross into custody."

"What?"

"I said, two federal agents—"

"I heard you, Preston!"

"Of course, sir," Preston said as he trotted down the steps of the building he'd been using as his sniper's nest.

"What agency?"

"I can't be certain. They had FBI badges, but one of them—"

"Were they CIA?"

"Possibly, sir. I couldn't tell."

"That was fucking fast. Stay on them, Preston, but do not move on them, understood? I'll get back to you."

"Yes, sir."

Preston flipped the phone closed and picked up the pace, hurrying to the ground level so he'd have a chance to catch up with that cab.