Chapter Seven

Julian was secured in the back of the sedan as Ty fiddled with the GPS on the dash. Ty had spent a solid half hour devising the most evil ways he could come up with to make sure Julian couldn't even get his hands together, much less pick any locks. They were waiting for Zane to finish checking them out, and Ty was keeping one eye on the two men in the back as he punched in the appropriate directions in the GPS.

With every button he pushed, the GPS unit would offer suggestions. He shook his head at the list of Washingtons that it offered, eyes scanning for the right one. Movement in the rear-view mirror caught his attention as he found the appropriate Washington and he glanced up as he pushed the button, narrowing his eyes at his prisoners.

"Didn't you two get enough of that last night?" he asked in a low growl.

"I'm trying to restore blood flow to my fingers," Julian said.

"I'll restore your blood flow pretty damn quick if you try one more thing," Ty said, voice low and serious.

Julian rolled his eyes and sighed, shifting his shoulder and wiggling his fingers, which were hanging in the air. One hand was cuffed to the handle above the door, the other to the floorboard, wound around his leg first so he had to lean forward. Cameron was restrained in similar fashion. They had to be uncomfortable as hell, but Ty wasn't taking any chances.

He and Zane had discussed trying to head back to Chicago and find a flight, but a call in to Burns had informed them that a blizzard was heading their way and flights were being grounded left and right. They'd have better luck driving, and if they left right now they'd get ahead of the snowstorm and miss it entirely, even if they were having difficulties with their prisoners.

A few moments later Zane joined them and Ty pulled out of the parking space.

"In point one miles, turn left on Willowcreek Road."

Zane was still shivering from the cold as the GPS began giving instructions, even though the car was finally beginning to warm. They weren't even out of the parking lot of the hotel yet and the GPS lady was bossing them around. The little arrow on the screen of the unit was pointing the wrong way, and they weren't facing anything resembling Willowcreek Road.

"You're going to have to do better than this, honey," Ty told the little unit stuck to the dash.

"I should get my phone out," Zane said as he settled in the passenger seat, newspaper on his lap, covered cup of coffee in hand. "Record you talking to it."

"Talking to what, your phone?" Ty asked as he turned the car toward the exit to the parking lot.

"In point one miles, turn left on Willowcreek Road."

"The GPS," Zane said, gesturing toward it with his coffee cup.

"She's more fun to listen to than you are. At least she knows what she's talking about."

"Ha ha."

"I kind of dig her," Ty said with a smirk.

"Yeah, well, the shine will wear off when all she does is bitch at you for seven hundred miles," Zane said.

"And that's different from you, how?"

When Zane turned to meet his eyes, Ty winked at him. Zane looked away, a smile forming.

"In point two miles, turn left on entrance ramp to Interstate 80/90, Indiana East-West Toll Road. In point one mile, stay left on Interstate 80/90 East, Indiana East-West Toll Road."

"Loosen up, honey," Ty said to it.

"Please stop talking to the inanimate object," Julian said from the back seat.

"You can give that up," Zane said as he opened the newspaper. He didn't look at Ty, but he was still smirking. "He talks to his guns too."

"That fits," Julian said under his breath.

Ty snorted at them both but remained silent as he followed the directions the GPS gave him. He took the toll ticket as they went through the entrance, handing it to Zane as they got on the toll road. As the miles began to roll by, Ty couldn't have been more relieved that he and Zane had managed to steal those few hours in Chicago. He wanted to reach out and touch his partner, rest his hand on Zane's knee, brush his fingers against his shoulder, anything. He refrained, though, the professional side of him winning out.

Zane seemed content as he read his paper and sipped at his coffee. Of course, Zane always seemed content. That was one of the things Ty loved about him. He was rock steady most of the time, dry and unflappable. A solid wall against which Ty's changing moods battered. Traits which made the moments that Zane lost his composure even more entertaining.

They stopped at a travel plaza roughly an hour after leaving the hotel in order to get breakfast. As Zane took care of whatever the hell it was Zane did in travel plazas, Ty sat in the driver's seat fidgeting. He wasn't going to be driving the next leg, but it was easier to see the two men sitting in the back in the rearview mirror from that side of the car, and to react with his dominant right hand if they put up a fight.

He couldn't get over the tension that had settled in his shoulders, or the remnants of the Red Bull, and it was manifesting in a great deal of twitching, shifting, and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Intelligence operatives often pick food or travel areas as their cover, Cameron," Julian said from the back seat, where he sat examining his neatly manicured nails as his hand hung above his head. "Restaurants, gas stations. Lots of people in and out to mask suspicious behavior. A place like this, it must make Agent Grady very nervous."

"Try talking without making noise for a while," Ty said, his eyes still on Zane, who had not turned back toward the window at all.

"Are you okay?" Cameron asked him.

"I get fidgety if I sit too long," Ty answered almost against his will. He'd found that no matter what Cameron asked him, he seemed physically incapable of lying to the guy.

Cameron nodded, looking almost like he felt sorry for Ty. "Aren't you supposed to be able to, like, be still and hide? On... surveillance or something?"

"I don't do that kind of thing anymore." Ty looked at Cameron with one eyebrow raised and a slight smirk. "We have cameras for that."

"Really," Cameron said, heavy on the sarcasm. "So what does a federal agent do if he's not watching other people?"

"We cause all kinds of trouble. Terrorize innocent civilians, arrest the wrong people, take advantage of government healthcare."

Ty saw Julian put a finger to his own temple and pull the imaginary trigger.

Ty snorted and shook his head. Wouldn't that save them all a lot of trouble? He began to shake his knee side to side, starting the sedan rocking. He heard Julian sigh from the back seat.

"I understand why you can't sit still, Agent Grady." He sounded almost as if he were offering a consolation prize.

"I kind of doubt that." Mentally sparring with Julian Cross had long ago lost its luster.

"How long were you there?" Julian asked.

Ty's movements slowed, stilling as his breaths came harder. The hair on his arms raised as a chill went through him.

"You scream ‘prisoner of war', Agent Grady," Julian said, his voice low and almost sympathetic. "But you're too young to have been captured in the Gulf. That means special forces, black ops. Navy SEAL?"

Ty swallowed hard, ashamed to see that his fingers gripping the steering wheel were turning white. "I was Force Recon."

"The batshit insane ones. Of course, that makes sense."

"What is that?" Cameron asked.

"Agent Grady was a Marine. Force Recon is their answer to the SEALs or Army Rangers."

"That's impressive," Cameron said as his eyes cut toward Ty.

"It is indeed. Save for the fact that most Marines are slightly insane before they live through the hell of combat. Was it Afghanistan then?"

Ty kept his eyes front and center, not looking in the mirror because he knew this man would be able to read him.

"Captured in Afghanistan, I'd wager. How long were you held?"

"I wasn't."

It was the same bullshit line Ty always gave when the subject came up. That operation was still classified. The answer, though, the answer only he, Nick O'Flaherty, and that weird little guy from Homeland Security knew, was twenty-three days, nine hours, and fifty-one minutes.

Ty glanced up to see Julian's reflection. His dark eyes seemed sympathetic. Ty looked to Cameron in the mirror—the young man had gone pale with the implication. Even though Ty had denied it, they both knew what Julian had said was true. Ty nodded, not intending to discuss the matter any further.

Maybe now Julian Cross would realize that Ty knew something about trying to escape.

"I'm driving. I get to choose the music."

"No," Ty said as he continued to flip through the radio, searching for a station.

Cameron raised a brow as Zane smacked Ty's fingers and then hit the preset button, returning the radio to the classic rock station.

"Dude!" Ty said as he pushed the button next to it and turned the dial to find the station he'd just had it on. "Pay attention to the road."

Zane hit the first button again. "Sit back, copilot. You had sports talk all morning." He sounded calm, though Cameron couldn't see how he maintained it. Dealing with Ty on a regular basis had to be grounds for anger management classes. Or homicidal tendencies. Maybe that was what was wrong with Zane.

"So did you," Ty said as he hit another button at random. Cameron could see a smirk on his face as he looked at Zane. It was obvious now that he didn't care what they were listening to, he was just pushing buttons. Since Cameron was sitting behind Zane, he couldn't really see Zane's face to gauge his reaction, but his next poke at the first button didn't seem angry.

Cameron glanced at Julian. "You and Preston have such a different relationship than them."

"There are so many ways that statement is correct," Julian said in a bored voice. He wasn't paying the two agents much attention. Or didn't appear to be.

Ty pushed another button and turned up the volume. Zane hit the first button again but didn't mess with the volume. Cameron tipped his head to look into the rearview mirror at Zane's reflection. He couldn't be sure, but there might have been a smile on Zane's lips.

"How long have you two been partners?" Cameron asked. There was absolutely nothing about the landscape passing by to hold his interest after the first five minutes, and Julian was sulking or plotting, or both, so he might as well try to talk to them. Julian had told him to try and converse as much as possible; it would put their guard down, enable Julian to glean information, and make Ty and Zane less likely to hurt Cameron.

Ty jabbed at another button and put his hand over the radio controls so Zane couldn't touch them. "Too damn long," he said to Cameron.

"You love me," Zane said in a tone that was practically cheerful, and Cameron couldn't help but grin as Zane used the button on the steering wheel to turn the station.

Julian turned his head to look at Zane's reflection in the rearview mirror, and then at Ty.

Ty was watching Zane, eyes narrowed as he tried to think of something to say to that. He finally retaliated by turning off the radio and huffing at his partner.

"Come on, how long?" Cameron asked again. If he had anything going for him, it was that he was persistent. Julian could attest to that.

"About eight months," Ty said as he continued to eye Zane.

"Eleven months," Zane corrected.

"Uh huh," Cameron said, doubtful of the veracity of either statement.

"It's been eight months, official. By your logic it's almost two years."

"What?" Cameron asked.

"There was a short break in there," Zane said. "We didn't get along very well on our first assignment."

Cameron snorted. "And how is that different from now?"

"You heard him," Ty said with a sarcastic edge to his words. "I love him now."

"Yeah, I can tell," Cameron said, looking between them. Zane was actually smiling. It looked like he enjoyed needling his partner as much as his partner enjoyed needling him. "Why stay together if you didn't get along very well?"

"They were assigned, Cameron. They don't get to pick and choose," Julian said in a gentle voice.

"Well, but surely their boss wouldn't make them work together if they hated each other," Cameron said. "They do carry guns, after all."

"Do we look like we hate each other?" Zane asked.

Cameron held up his hand and waggled it from side to side in a so-so motion. "Sometimes, maybe."

"He can't tell what you look like with that beard," Ty said as he turned his head to look at Zane. Cameron could see him smirking again.

Zane's head turned toward Ty, and Cameron imagined it was so Zane could glare at him. "What's that have to do with it?"

"You look like a lumberjack."

Zane shrugged one shoulder. "‘I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay,'" he answered in a low singsong voice.

"Stop," Ty said with real urgency.

"Please," Julian added.

Zane chuckled, and to Cameron's ear it sounded a little on the evil side. "You want to sing instead?" Zane asked as he glanced sideways at his partner.

"If I sing, I'll sing whatever I damn well want to. Might as well listen to my radio station."

"Nope," Zane said, and again Cameron wondered about his apparent saintly level of patience.

After leaning back, Cameron looked over at Julian. "They almost sound like you and Blake, sometimes. When Blake really gets on a roll."

"Must you continue to compare me with either of them in any scenario?" Julian asked as he looked at Cameron earnestly.

Cameron shrugged. "I have a small frame of reference for people who kill things."

"You sing for hundreds of people sitting in the stands at a ballgame, but you won't sing now," Zane was saying.

"No, I'm not going to sing," Ty said, incredulous as he glared at Zane.

"Why not?" Zane asked.

Cameron leaned toward the middle of the seat so he could peer through at Zane. He looked relaxed, left hand loose on the wheel, right hand free and resting on his thigh. A year ago, Cameron wouldn't have thought anything about that. Now, it occurred to him that Zane was probably keeping his hand free so he could draw his gun. Cameron frowned and sat back.

"Stop it, Garrett, I'm not singing," Ty said as he jabbed at the radio.

"How in the world did they get you to sing, anyway?" Zane asked.

"Sing where?" Cameron added, and then belatedly doubted the wisdom of making Ty any twitchier.

Ty looked at Zane pointedly. He glanced over his shoulder at Cameron. "He's talking about baseball games," he said to Cameron, and then he looked at Zane and spoke in a lower voice. "I just do."

"Season's suspended," Zane said. "City's refurbishing that field."

"And?"

Zane lifted one shoulder. "They called while you were gone about what to do with the Bronco."

Ty cleared his throat and hung his head. "Are they releasing her?"

"Yeah. I had them keep her in the impound lot so you could see her one last time," Zane said. "There's nothing to be done."

"We'll just see about that," Ty said with a determination that was almost frightening.

"You're talking like somebody died," Cameron said.

"She did," Ty said without moving.

Zane glanced up to make eye contact with Cameron in the rearview mirror, and he shook his head.

"My condolences," Cameron murmured, a little mystified. He looked over at Julian, brow raised.

Julian shrugged, a difficult action the way he was restrained, and he whirled his finger around his temple. Cameron sighed and glanced at Ty. He was starting to think Julian was right about Ty being crazy. Maybe Zane too, if he thought any of what they'd just talked about made any sense.

"Can I choose to ride in the boot, now?" Julian asked.

"Shut up," Ty and Zane both answered.

Zane stepped out of the second Travel Plaza facility of the day with Cameron in tow, taking a deep breath of the freezing air. It had begun to snow, dropping fat flakes on them that were already beginning to pile up.

Zane shivered and glanced back inside. It was too cold to wait for Ty and Julian out here. With a steaming hot coffee in one hand, and Cameron's arm in the other, he started for the car. He caught a glimpse of a hulking black SUV parked near the gas pumps, and something about it caught Zane's attention enough to warrant a second glance. He slowed, staring hard at it. Even as he did so, the car started, its lights blinking on, and it pulled away from the gas pump it had been using and headed for the exit.

"What's wrong?" Cameron asked as he watched the car drive away.

Zane pursed his lips. "Nothing. Come on, it's freezing."

The car didn't give him a bad feeling, and it was the first time he'd even thought about a suspicious vehicle on their tail. It was probably nothing to worry about. They headed back to the car and Zane secured Cameron with a little bit less vehemence than Ty had that morning. He got in the passenger side and started the car, sighing in relief as the warm air touched his skin.

They had stopped for gas and something to keep Ty's hands busy, and Zane had been so close to buying a stress ball he'd found inside that he still regretted not making the purchase. Ty loved road trips, but he really needed to be the one driving. He wasn't cut out for the idle, easy passage of time that was required of passengers.

Soon enough, Ty and Julian returned. Ty shoved Julian into the back seat and clanked his handcuffs into place. They were arguing. Again. Zane turned in his seat to watch them.

"I refuse to search you every time you take a piss. Refuse!" Ty was saying through gritted teeth.

"Then don't do it, Agent Grady, it's very simple." Julian was watching as Ty went through the ever-increasingly complicated ritual of tying him down. If this kept up, Julian really would be riding in the trunk.

"Then stop trying to escape!"

"You wouldn't have one modicum of respect for me if I didn't try to escape."

"I don't have any for you now! The only thing I care about is getting your sorry ass to DC so I can go home."

Julian sighed as Ty slammed the door.

"What have you done now?" Zane asked him.

"That is a trade secret, Agent Garrett."

Zane rolled his eyes and turned back around in his seat as Ty threw himself into the car.

"You want to drive?" Zane asked as soon as Ty sat in the driver's seat.

"Yes, please," Ty said in a rush of relief.

Zane grinned at him. "Everything okay?"

"No. They didn't have any Cheetos."

"Tragic," Zane said as he took the lid off his coffee. "The coffee is fantastic, though."

"I don't like coffee, Zane!"

"It really is very good," Cameron said. "They don't over-roast the beans like Starbucks."

Zane hummed in contentment as he took a sip.

"Shut up," Ty muttered as he jabbed at the GPS and hit the button that would continue their previous course.

The suction cup the unit used to attach to the dash popped up and the unit jumped off the dash into Ty's lap. He flailed briefly as he fought with the charging wire, trying to disentangle it and retrieve the unit as it slid down his leg and tangled in the steering column.

Julian chuckled drily from the back seat. "Looks like she likes you too."

Julian's fingers had long ago lost all feeling, and the tingling sensation was marching its way down his arm toward his shoulder by the time the snow got heavy enough that the two FBI agents were discussing stopping.

"I think we can make it out of the storm," Zane was saying even as Ty shook his head.

"I'm telling you, Zane, if there's one thing West Virginia knows, it's snow. This is a car killer and we're in a Crown Vic."

"You're saying we should stop for the night?"

"Yes."

"And let the snow pile up around us as Cross tries repeatedly to kill us and escape?"

"Well, not when you put it that way, Zane. Jesus."

"I really don't want to die in a snow storm in the middle of Indiana," Cameron said in a small voice.

"I said it would kill the car, not us," Ty grumbled.

"It's... sort of the same thing, though," Zane pointed out. "We don't even have winter coats."

Julian could clearly see the glare Ty shot at Zane.

Julian glanced to Cameron and met his lover's eyes. Cameron still looked worried and overwhelmed, and Julian had been trying his best to remain outwardly calm for his benefit. It was getting harder to do, though, the longer this charade went on. Both attempts at escape had been foiled, and he had to admit, he was a little surprised. He smiled and gave Cameron a wry roll of his eyes despite his concern.

He was torn over what he wanted Ty and Zane to do. Every mile they drove brought them closer to DC and the danger that lay in wait there. But while stopping in the snow storm would afford him and Cameron the chance at escaping, how far could they realistically get in a white-out blizzard like this?

Eventually, the snow was falling so fast and thick that it didn't matter what any of them wanted to do. Ty could barely see to drive the car, and as soon as they caught wind of an exit off the toll road that had a hotel, Ty headed for it. It took them half an hour to get from the exit to the hotel, inching along in the driving snow. Every minute that passed, the agents grew edgier and meaner.

"I could get out and walk and get us a room before the car could get there," Zane said.

"Zane, shut up," Ty said through gritted teeth. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Julian supposed it was partly instinct and mostly dumb luck that he was able to navigate at all. He was tense, though, and for someone wound as tight as Ty already was, making him more so wasn't going to help anyone.

Julian and Cameron wisely kept their mouths shut.

"You want me to drive for a while?"

"Zane, seriously, stop talking to me right now, okay?"

Zane cleared his throat and shrugged a shoulder, looking out the window.

Julian glanced over at Cameron again, trying to gauge how well he was holding up. "You okay?"

Cameron shook his head, eyes darting to the front to see if either agent was looking at him. Julian knew that Cameron was ashamed to admit to his fear in front of Ty and Zane.

The anger flared so unexpectedly that Julian gave a sharp gasp as it burned through him. Who were these two clowns to make Cameron feel like that? Who the hell did these assholes think they were dealing with?

He had to take several long, deep breaths to calm himself. "It's okay, love. There's no shame in being frightened."

Cameron looked at him, eyes pleading, expression miserable. Julian's chest twisted and the anger banked to a slower burn.

"It's okay."

Ty threw the car in park and rested both hands on the steering wheel. When Julian glanced at him, he had his eyes closed, visibly trying to relax after the stressful drive.

"I think we're in a parking lot," the agent muttered.

Zane cleared his throat again and looked back at them as he popped the car door open. "I'll go see about a room."

He left them with Ty in the car, and Ty reached to turn the car off, instantly throwing the car into an otherworldly silence. The chill began to seep into Julian's bones as soon as the heat turned off.

"Can't we at least have some heat while we wait?" Cameron asked, voice wavering.

Ty shook his head. "If we get stuck we'll need to conserve it."

"Stuck? Is that really a possibility?"

"No."

"Yes," Ty said in a louder voice.

"Agent Grady," Julian said through gritted teeth.

"He's not stupid, Cross, he deserves the truth."

"Not from you," Julian growled, barely able to rein in his temper. What it was about Ty that caused him to lose control so easily, he could not fathom.

"Well, he's sure as hell not getting it from you."

"I'm . . . I'm sitting right here," Cameron muttered.

"What do you think your boyfriend does, Jacobs?" Ty asked him, his hazel eyes seeming to pierce right through the mirror as he looked at Cameron.

Cameron swallowed hard. "He deals in antiques."

Ty snorted and shook his head, muttering to himself as he looked out into the wall of white around them. Occasionally they could see the motel's sign, the neon like a beacon of salvation amidst the world of white. But the chill and the silence were still oppressive.

Julian stared into the falling snowflakes, reflected blue in the moonlight, clamping down on the angry words running through his mind, trying to remain outwardly calm, for his own sake as much as Cameron's.

The passenger door popped open and Zane stuck his head in. His hair was wet with melting snow and his shoulders were covered with flakes.

"We got the last room at the inn."

"Must be our lucky day," Ty muttered as he got out of the car and both doors slammed.

Julian met Cameron's eyes.

"I'll die before anything happens to you," he promised.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Cameron whispered.

"We lost them," Agent X reported to his superior without emotion.

"What do you mean you lost them? How can you lose two FBI agents with a prisoner who don't know they're being tailed?"

"I believe we need to consider the possibility that they've caught wind of us," Agent X said. "They went through security at Midway like they were supposed to, but I believe they caused a commotion in order to flee. We never picked them up at O'Hare, and we later got reports of an FBI sedan being stolen. The GPS tracking on the sedan has been disabled. They're avoiding official channels, zig-zagging and scrambling. It's classic maneuvering."

His superior sighed. "Yes, it would appear they know we're after them."

"We picked up their trail when they used a credit card at a hotel in Portage, Indiana. And again when they got on the toll road. They're trying to make the trip overland."

"That seems imprudent, to go to all that trouble and then use a credit card."

"I said they know we're after them, not that they're particularly smart. But we lost them again when they took an unexpected detour off the toll road into Michigan."

"Michigan."

"Yes, sir. Michigan."

"What's in Michigan?"

"Snow."

"What?

"A lot of snow."

"I see. Find them, understand? Our one true advantage was the element of surprise. I know Richard Burns, he's not an idiot. If he knows we're coming, make no mistake, he's put his best operatives on this. Whatever they're doing, it has a purpose. Julian Cross cannot make it to DC. Do what you have to."

"I understand, sir."

Richard Burns sat in his darkened office, eyes on a computer monitor, brow furrowed. Years ago he had installed a special tracking device in Ty Grady's wristwatch for times like this. Ty could turn it on and off at will and only employed it when he was working a special assignment or in trouble, if he was able. Burns could also ping it remotely, when he needed to. It was on now. Ty had turned it on moments after getting Burns' initial call.

His signal had popped up just west of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and made its way to Chicago just as Ty had been ordered. Now it was near the state line of Michigan and Indiana, holding steady.

Burns didn't understand why. Jonas exited the private washroom in Burns' office, having just showered, and he came to stand over Burns' shoulder, watching the computer screen in consternation.

"Why are they heading north? Are they evading someone?"

Burns shook his head and clicked a button that moved the grid onto one of two flat screen televisions on the panel on the far wall.

"They would have called in if they'd picked up anyone following them or run into trouble."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Burns glanced at the other television on the wall, displaying a map from Weather Underground. Massive snow storms were moving across the Great Lakes, the same weather system Burns had warned Ty and Zane about that morning. It was much more massive than he had thought and Burns narrowed his eyes at the screen again. With the two maps side by side, it was apparent what was going on.

Ty was lost in the snow. Burns found himself smiling fondly, a laugh escaping as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"What?"

"He's lost. Probably has no idea he's in Michigan."

"Lost? Does your man know how important this op is?"

"It doesn't matter whether I send him to Chicago to retrieve a wet works operative, or to Kentucky to get me some goddamned fried chicken, he does his job and he does it well."

Jonas, of course, knew Ty Grady. He'd known Ty since he was born. But Jonas didn't know Ty was the one Burns had sent on this mission, and he didn't plan to tell Jonas that either, not unless he had to.

Burns had also debated over the benefits of telling Ty and Zane what they were getting into, and in the end he had decided it was best to leave them need to know. He didn't know who had followed Jonas' steps here, or who had ears on him, and in the end the less they knew the less likely they were to be killed if they were captured.

Burns also knew that if they were aware of the whole story, they would fight and die for a cause that wasn't theirs, simply because Ty would have done anything for Jonas, just like he'd do anything for Burns or his father. Burns couldn't let that happen. Jonas was practically family — a man Ty knew and respected as a dear friend of his father — but Burns wouldn't risk Ty or Zane for him. Better they be innocent bystanders, blindly following orders, than complicit in what was happening.

Jonas looked at him for a long minute, then nodded and turned away. His hand moved to the pocket where he'd been keeping that burner phone, a nervous gesture Burns had noticed more than once.

"Do you want someone to get in touch with Trish?" Burns asked, recognizing the restless maneuvering of a husband who was beyond late for dinner.

Jonas shook his head. "The less she knows, the better."

Burns nodded. It was the mantra of every dark operative in history.

He looked back at the screen, a stab of guilt going through him as he stared at the blue dot that was Ty and Zane. Those boys had given up too much for this kind of work. Far too much.

They had stopped moving, and Burns guessed they had bedded down in the blizzard despite the early hour. A blizzard wouldn't stop the men coming after them once the CIA caught their scent, though. Nor would it stop Julian Cross.