Chapter Twelve

Zane watched the activity from between the blinds of a small storefront across the street from the crime scene. He'd been watching for twenty minutes, not moving at all. Ty stood beside him, a little further away from the window because he was restless and couldn't quite stand still.

Theywatchedasthelocalpolicesetupa perimetertokeepout curiousbystanders, cordoned offpossiblewitnesses, andspreadplainclothes agentsthrough thegathering crowdtospotpossible suspects. Theywatched DetectivesPierceand Hollemanstandand scratchtheir headsin bewilderment,andtheywatchedRossandSearsarrivewithHenningerand Morrison intowandscratch theirheadstoo.Theywatched themedical examiner arrive—thenew one—followedby two techs and a body bag.

"Looks prettychaotic. Ithinkwecangetinandoutandnever be seen,"Tymurmured toZane."TheMEisnew;hewon'tknowus.Andyou know he's got it pretty cleared out in there now as he examines the body."

Zane nodded slowly, still watching.He pulled out his phone, hit a few buttons, and waited. Down on the street, Henningerdug out his phone.

"We're going inwiththeME.Keep therestout," Zanesaidshortly. Afteralongmomentinwhichtheotheragentanswered,hesnappedthe phone shut,agrim lookonhisface."Let's go,"hesaidquietly. "Around the block and through the back. Entrance through the back."

Tynodded andfollowed silently. They'd beenleaving thebookstore withtheirnewlypurchased collection ofPoestories whenthey'd received the call,and hewas almost eagertoseeifthis newest murder would fitinto their theory.

Theyheaded outside andaround theblock, wellawayfromthe gatheredlawenforcement, andcameinthroughthebackalleywherethe ambulance was parked. There were justacouple cops tostand guard. Aquick flashoftheir badges andsomeofficious government snarlsattheoverworked men, and they were in.

Zane shoved his hands in his pockets and walked carefully on the narrowrunnerofplasticlaidovertheslickandstickyfloor.Eachroomwas bloody. They found the new ME in the living room.

The man looked over his shoulder atthem. "You're theteam from the Bureau?"

Tyglanced atZane andthenback attheME. "What canyoutellus?" he asked without answeringthe question.

"Occupantofthehouseisaseventy-one-year-old male.Wedon't know ifhe's thevictim yet, but he's nowhere to be found. No way totelltime ofdeathjustyetexceptforthecongealingoftheblood.I'dsayanywhere from three tofive hours," the examiner told them. Hestood upfrom where he crouched, carefullykeeping hishandsawayfrom hisownbody.Hisgloves werestainedalmosttothewrists."We'restill findingpiecesaroundthe house. I figure most of the victim is here."

"How was the scene discovered?"Zane asked stoically.

TheMEglancedbetweenthem."Thevictim'sheartwasdeliveredto Federal Plaza with this address on a return address label."

"The heart?" Ty echoed flatly.

TheMEnodded andmerelylooked athim asZane rubbed hishand overhiseyes,flinching painfully. Tyglanced around andpursedhislips.The bloodthatwasvisiblewasbeginning todryandgrowdarker.Therewere indeed pieces, justastheman hadsaid.Itwaslikeascene from somecamp slashermovie.ButTywasn'tregistering theabsolute horrorofthescenehe wascalmlyperusing. Instead, hefound himself tryingtofititintotheprofile he had made of the killer all those months ago.

"Anything elseremarkable?"Zaneforcedhimselftoask.He wanted—needed—togetoutofthere.Verysoon.Itwasmessingwithhis head.

"Themurderweapon,"theMEansweredwithanod.Hehadoneof thecrime scenetechs leadthem over toadresser thatwasdecked outwith a whiteclothandtapersinsilvercandlesticks.Onatarnishedsilverplatterin the center of the cloth was a gore-cakedhacksaw.

Zanetook onegood look, nodded sharply andturned away, clenching histrembling handsintotightfists.Itwasn'tthebloodandcarnage that bothered him somuch; itwastheideathatsomeone didthistoanother living person, that it was so obviouslyplanned.

Ty didn't notice his partner's reactions. Instead, he stared at the placement of the murder weapon curiously,intriguedby it.

"They found it like this?" he asked with a wave at the platter.

Thetechnodded."We'retheonlyoneswho'vebeeninthisroom, sir."

Tyturnedandlookedovertheroom,glancingatZaneandthenback at the bloody floor again. "Anything else?" he asked the crime scene guy.

"The only thing we've found that's odd is a hole cut in the floorboards. We're pretty sure themurder weapon was used todoit,"the tech answered.

"Where's the hole?" Zane demanded.

"Bedroom. Here, I'llshow you," theman answered ashepointed toa nearby doorway. "Butit'snotahole. Thekillercovered itagain," headded hastilyasheledthem intoafront room ofthehouse. "Wehaven't lifted the cover yet. We just finished taking photos."

Tyfrowned down atthecrudelycutsquare inthefloor."This dude's nuttier than squirrel shit," he muttered.

The tech glanced at him and bit his lip to keep from smiling.

Zane carefully knelt down, staring at the cracks in the wood. "Gloves,"he asked, holding up one hand.

The tech blinked down at him, then glanced at Ty.

"Don't you think maybe you should letthe crime scene dudes do this, Hoss?" Ty asked Zane pointedly.

"Give me some fucking gloves," Zane growled.

The tech pulled some out of his pocket and handed them over without questioning. Afterpullingthemon,Zanestartedslowlytracingthecracksin thefloorboards withhisfingers.Tywatchedwordlessly, recognizing Zane's gears turning but too annoyed with him to care.

All Ty knew was that their perp was getting frustrated with the lack of progress the Feds had been making, and hewas now putting onashow. Itfelt almost likehewasexcited. Thescene hadasense ofmanic glee toit, something none ofthe other scenes hadcarried with them. Tylooked over his shoulder,backinthedirectionoftheroomwiththeplatterandthemurder weapon, flanked by silver candlesticks.

Itfeltlikeaparty.Likeawelcome home party, complete with bloody confetti. But that wasn't possible, and Ty frowned as he began to wonder abouthisownmentalstability.Thekillerhadnowayofknowing theywere backonthecaseyet.Iftheirtheory wascorrect, hehadnothing tobe celebrating.

Kneeling on the floor, Zane pulled atthe cutout of the hardwood floor withhisfingers, butitwastootighttolift.Hereached intohisjacketsleeve andpulledoutoneofhisknives,slidingitintothegapbetweentheboards and applying pressure carefully.

Theboardliftedeasily.He pulledit away andset it aside,then reached for the next one.

"What areyoudoing?" Tyasked inalarm asZanebegan destroying the crime scene.

Zane looked grimly down intothe hole ashelifted asecond floorboard."Take a look," he said to Ty as he sat back.

Tyandthetechbothbentovertheholeandpeereddownintoit. Insidewasasimplepieceofwhiteconstruction paper.Drawnonitinblood was a stylized heart.

"Weird," the tech observed flatly.

Tyturned his head tolook attheman, then down atZane. "Probably our token. What'd you expect to find?" he asked curiously.

Zaneshruggeddistractedly. "Idon'tknow.Hadhardwood floors growing up, used to hide things under them," he explained in a troubled voice. Hestoodup,peelingtheglovesoffandhandingthemtothetech."Thanks," he said quietly before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

TystoodandwatchedZaneretreatwithafrown,thenlooked backdownatthenoteleftunderthefloorboards. Hesighedandlookedback up. Even in here, far removed from what appeared to be the main crime scene, there was blood and gore.

"Takesarealmadmantodothistoanotherhumanbeing,"theME said to him softly from the doorway where he'd been watching.

Tygave theME aglance and shook his head, taking stock ofthefact thathehimself was trying tofigure out how the perp had done itphysically, rather thanmentally ormorally. Hestoodandwalked slowly tothedoor, standing beside the man.

"Scarier still," he murmured to the medical examiner as he looked through the house to the back porch where Zane stood. "I don't think he's crazy at all," he said softly as he left the room carefully, making certain he stayed on the plastic on his way out.

Zanestoodoutside, acigarette already lit.Hedidn't movewhenTy came out onto the porch. The dark circles under Zane's eyes were pronounced,andhelookedexhaustedandill.Hiseyeswerestillblank,asif hewasthinkingaboutsomethingsohardthathewasalmostzoningoutover it.

Tyreachedoverandtookthecigarettefrombetweenhislips,putting itoutagainstthethickdenimofhisjeans.Hethenputthebuttinhisshirt pocket and looked away toward theback alley.Zane hadtobeoutofittobe smoking atafucking crimescene. Hedidn'tknowwhatevidence thesmoke might destroy.

"Better get going before anyone else triestocome in," Tysaid tohim in annoyance."Henningercan't hold them off for long."

TheyduckedaroundtheambulancejustastheyheardGaryRoss's deep voice, andZane ledthewaybackoutofthealleyanddown thestreet, awayfrom thescene. They stopped moving sixblocks away, and Zane pulled out another cigarette, getting that deep-in-thoughtlook in his eyes again.

Tygentlyreachedoutandpluckedthecigarettefromhisfingers. "Tell me what you're thinking,"he requested calmly.

Zane'seyesfollowed theunlitcigarette inconfusion, andheblinked owlishlywhenhelookedupatTy."What?"heasked,reachingtotakethe cigarette back.

Typulled itfurther away, holding itout ofreach ashelooked atZane pointedly.

Zane's brows drewtogether, andhetookafewseconds toreview the lastminute."Oh...Iwasthinkingaboutthefloorboards," hesaid,lookingat Ty's hand and then back up at his eyes.

"What about them?" Ty prodded.

"TheTell-Tale Heart,"Zaneanswered withanod."Youwereright. He'sre-enacting Poestories.Wherethatgetsus,Idon'tknow.It'sareliefto finally see the pattern though." He wrinkled his nose, gave up on the cigarette, and pulled the crumpled pack out of his pocket to get another.

Tysighed and handed the cigarette back. "Okay," hesaid. "Sowe get thatbookout,makealistofthemurders,andsendittoHenninger," he suggested. "Butyou'reright,itgetsusnowhereclosertohim.Thatscene was...different,"headdedinatiredvoice,mindstillworkingoverthenew form of his profile.

Zanetookthecigaretteandtappeditonthepack,butnowhewas focusing moreonTy's reaction togivingitback. Hedidn't wantZaneto smoke.Thatmustbeit.HerememberedTy'swryvoice:"Thosethingswill killyou."Heslidthecigarettebackintothepackandstuffeditintohis pocket.

"How so?" he asked belatedly.

Tymerelyshrugged andlookeddown, frowning. "Come on,"hesaid softly as he stepped to the side and began moving again, "I need to write some shit down."

Zane rubbed ahand over hisface, andthey headed back towhere they'dparked.Ittookawhiletogetbacktotheseedymotelthey'dpicked out, and they were both quiet the whole way. Once in the room, Zane shucked the jacket, the weapons, and his boots, and immediately laid facedown onthe bed. Maybe if he dozed, something would come to him.

Tydidn't follow Zane's lead. Instead, he paced atthe end of the other bed, pen in hand, drumming itagainst his thigh as hemoved. He was thinking aboutthewelcome party,abouthisinability tobehorrified bythegore.His frown deepened the more he paced.

"Whyareyoupacing?" Zanemuttered afterseveralminutes. "Can't you sit to think?"

"No," Ty snapped in answer. "Leave me the fuck alone."

Zanesatup,obviouslypeeved.Growlingquietly,hestalkedoverto hisjacketandpulledoutthecigarettes andlighterbeforeturning tothedoor. Tywatched himgo,glowering atthecigarettes inhishand.Zaneyankedthe dooropen,shoved thelatchovertoblockitopen, andstepped outontothe concrete walkway as he lifted an unlit smoke to his lips.

"Why would he set up the scene like that?" Ty called after him before the door could close.

Startlingslightly,Zanealmostdroppedthelighter.Hepushedthe doorbackopenpartway. "Thescene?" heasked, cigarettebetween hislipsas he spoke.

"He set up the murder weapon like an offering," Ty answered, voicing what had been bothering him. "Like a... gift."

"Onasilverplatter, yeah.Iwasn'tamused," Zanesaid,blowing the smoke away from the door. "I bet he was."

Tyblinked athim andhislipsparted slightly asifhewassurprised at whatZanehadsaid.Helookeddowntothethincarpetandblinkedagain, mouthworking silentlyforseveralmoments. "Wehaven't beenamused," he mumbled.

Zane watched Ty, confused. "What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked mildly, the snap and frustrationgone for the moment.

"I think I completely missed the profile," Ty answered dazedly.

Zaneblinkedinsurprise.Hestucktheunlitcigarettebehindhisear andreenteredtheroom,shuttingthedoorbehindhimandturningthebolt. "Tell me," he prompted.

"We've been assuming hewasplaying games, flaunting how good he wasandwaiting forsomeone worth playing thegameagainst," Tyanswered quicklyashebeganpacingagain."Burnssaidtherewasanoverallfeeling thatthekillerwasdepressedafterweleft,despondent andsilent.We assumed—becausewe'reFBIandegoisarequirement—thatitwasbecause hethought weweregoodenough toplaythegame. Butwhywouldhethink that?" heposed ashestopped andlooked atZane."Wewerehereforagrand totalof,what,sevendays?Wemadenoprogress,nomorethananyofthe others,andtheonlythingwesucceeded indoingwasalmostgettingkilled. He's not trying to play. He's trying to please."

"Trying toplease? Youmean tokeepusbusy? Togivehimour attention? And then when he lost it, he was unhappy?"Zane asked.

Tyshook hishead. "You read crime novels and watch detective movies,right?"hesaideagerly."Thestereotypeinalmosteveryoneisa boredcop;hewantssomething excitingtosinkhisteethinto,wantsaction, wants... abigcasetoworkon,"herambled almostexcitedly. "Right? Forall hisintelligenceandtalent,thisperphasboughtintothatimage.Headmires lawenforcement officers,"hewenton,beginning toformanewprofileashe spoke."Hisdadorfatherfiguremightevenhavebeenasecurityguardor somesortofpseudo-policemantype.That'swhyhebecameaFed,ifheis one.Headmired them. Hewants toplease thepeople headmires, givethem something worth their time." He closed his eyes and lifted his chin, raising his face to the ceiling.

Zane bitbackasmile.Heglanced tothestackofcrimeandsuspense novels he'dbought. "Okay, Icanseethat. So,he'shoping togiveusagood game. So if we figure it out, what's to stop him from changing the game?"

"He has to change it. He'll be well-schooled in forensics and profiling.He'llthinkhe'shidingbyswitchinghisMO,buthe'sstillgotthat pattern. Hemayhavepicked itbecause itoffered somanydifferent methods. Oritmayhavemorespecialmeaningtohim.HekilledthePoeToasterin Baltimore, we can be sure of that, either as a jumping-offpoint or practice. He hadtohave picked himbecause ofwhohewas.Poeistheplaybook he's stickingtoinordertostaysafe.He'snotkillingforthepleasureofthekill, notlikenormal serials. Whatheenjoys—hisrealritual—is theafter-effects," Tyexplained astheprofileunfolded beforehimlikearoadmapoverhis mentalsteering wheel. "What hecraves istheattention oftheauthorities afterward.Notthepress,notthepublic.JustthecopsandFeds.Hedoesn't justreturntothesceneofthecrime;helivesit.Hesoaksthemayhem in afterward, either by being physically present or thriving on the official reports. That's whyhe'ssending stuffinthemail;he'shelping thepeople he admires try to solve him."

"So, itmight not be someone atthe Bureau, but maybe acop from the citywho's gotaccess," Zanerealized. "Someone whoworks both sidesofthe case,although inaminorrole.LiketheSteves areattached tothiscase." He tossedthecigarettepackonthetableandsatbackdownonthebed."Iwish wehadthatdamnlistofallpersonnelwho'vetouchedanythingtodowith this mess."

"The new profile screams cop with an inferiority complex," Ty agreed. "But with theaccess hehas,I'm stillsaying FBI. Italsomakesme thinkthatsomething wedid,thetwoofus,toldhimthatwewereenjoying whathewasdoing,"hewentonmoretentatively. "Wemayhaveexpressed admiration forhisskillsomehow orshowninterest inhoworwhyhedid something thatnoneoftheotheragentshadnoticed. Whatever itwaswedid, hethought he'dfinallyfoundsomeone whowasenjoying thefruitsofhis labor."

Zane's facewasblankandthenheblanched. "Sohe'sbeendoing this... specifically to amuse us? You and me?"

"Notatfirst,"Tyanswered withashake ofhishead."Andnoteven now.Toassumethatwouldbetoassumeheknowswe'reback.Thetwoof us,specifically. IthinkheheardsomehowthattheBureauwassendingina new crew. That, back there? That was his welcome party."

Zaneclosed hiseyes,feeling slightlyillatthethought. Thathadbeen perhaps themostgruesome scenehehadeverwitnessed, andhe'dseenalot, but Tyseemed tobethinking ofitasmerely another stepping stone tofinding their killer.

He opened his eyes again and looked—reallylooked—at Ty, studying him,catchingontotheslightlydetachedairhehadabouthim.He'dhadit eversincethey'd beenreunited. Even backathishomeinBaltimore.He rememberedTy'sreactiontothewomanbeingfoundinhishotelroomall thosemonthsago,andexperience withpsychology toldZanewhatwasgoing on.Tywasstillinshock. He'dgonethrough thetreatment likeagoodlittle soldier, buthehadn'treallyprocessed anyofthetherapy. Hehadbasically severed any links to deeper emotions to avoid anything hurting too much.

Tysnorted andcontinued topace,oblivious toZane's studyofhim. "WeshouldcallHenninger,"hefinallymurmured."Tellhimtochangethe profile."

"It'llbeseveral hours tillhe'soffthescene andabletotalk," Zane reminded. HefeltforTy.Notjustachingbecause Tywassoremoved, butin otherwaysaswell.Itscaredhim,andhischesttightened ashewatched his partner pace.

"Callhim anyway, this shit isimportant," Ty grunted in annoyance as he patted himself down for his own phone.

"Allright.CallHenninger, thenwhat?"Zaneasked."Weneed somewhere biggerthanthistospreadoutthefileshe'ssupposed tobringus andgivethemagoodstudy.Weshouldprobablychangehotelsanyway,just in case."

Tywas very still,letting thelastwords sink in."You think heknows we're back?" he asked neutrally.

Zaneswallowed, thinkingbacktowhatthey'dtalkedaboutminutes before. "Yeah."

"Us, specifically?" Ty asked quietly.

MeetingTy'seyes,Zanewonderedifthecurlinganxietyshowedin his own. "Yeah."

"Me too," Ty respondedin the same quiet, calm voice.

"Won't be long until he—"

"Heneedsus,"Tyinterrupted confidently. "Heneeds ustomakehim feelasifhe'sdoingwell.Hewon'ttrytohurtusagain.I'msureofit,"he lied.

Theliedidn'tgounnoticed,butZanehadnoplantocomment.He lookedupatTysadly,wanting tosaysomething, anything otherthanthesoft wordscrowding inhisthroat.Heswallowed onthemagain.Hedidn'tknow how much more "speaking" they could do. Finally, a sentiment broke free in a rasp. "I won't lose you. Not now."

"Idon'tplantogetanymorelostthanIam,"Tyansweredroughly. He turned quickly, pacing away from the bed as he flipped open his phone.

Zanesqueezedhiseyesshutandcursedsilently.Curlinghishands into fists, he got off the bed, put on his jacket, and retrieved his lighter, sliding the cigarette from behind his ear as he walked toward the door again.

Ty watched him go from under lowered brows, waiting for Henninger topickup.Whentheyounger agentanswered, Tyquicklytoldhimaboutthe change in profile and the pattern they had discovered.

"Poe?"Henningeraskedinalowvoice,obviouslytryingnottobe overheard."You're sure?"

"Thelatestmurderprettymuchclinchesit,"Tyanswered."Wegot oneofthosedamnanthologies; we'regoingtogothrough itandseewhatwe find. Did you get a chance to gather those personnelfiles for me?"

"Notyet,"Henninger answered hesitantly. "I'llhavethembythe morning," hepromised quickly. "Youwantedanyone whoworked orlivedin Baltimore between 2000 and 2002, correct?"

"That'sright,"Tyansweredwithanunconscious nod."Now,goget theword out about the pattern, getBureau analysts allover thisshit.Wehave to get ahead of him."

"Right.ButhowdoIgotothemwiththis?"Henninger asked worriedly."What do I tell them?"

"Make up something.Take the credit," Ty instructed.

"What?" Henningerasked in a slightly stunned voice.

"Tellthem youfigured itoutwith thislatestmurder; it'sprettydamn obvious when youthinkabout it,"Tysuggested. "Tellthem aboutthemurder inBaltimoreandhowyoumadetheconnectionfromthere.Iftheyask,"he wascareful toinstruct. "Theyprobably won't, sodon'tofferanyinformation you don't have to. They'll probably just be glad to have something to go on. If you getintoodeep, justtellthem you gotatipfrom abuddy intheBureau whodidn'twanttobenamed.GivethemmynameandnumberinBaltimore if they demand it."

Hewaited untilHenninger gotanotepad andgavehimthenumber in case he needed it.

"Anythingelse?" Henningerasked with a heavy sigh.

"Just be careful. We suspect hemayknow we're back, and if he does, he may connect you with us," Ty warned worriedly.He didn't like the thought ofbeingresponsibleforanymoreinnocentlives.HestillsawIsabelleSt. Claire's face when he slept.

"No worries, sir," Henninger murmured.

Tyended the calland sighed unhappily. Despite what should have been considered two major breaks in the case, he didn't feel as if they'd made any progress.

Zanestepped backintotheroom, smelling ofsmoke andlooking troubled. "Time to move?" he asked Ty.

Tynoddedwordlessly,andtheybegangatheringtheirsmallnumber ofthingsandcarryingthemouttotherentalcar.Thefeelingthatthekiller wasontheirtrail,ratherthantheotherwayaround,satheavilyonbothof them.Theydidn'tsayanotherwordtoeachotherasZanegotbehindthe wheel and began driving with no particular destinationin mind.

Finally, Tyglanced overathimandwatched himforalongmoment. "We could just cut and run," he suggestedsoftly, watching Zane closely.

Forcibly keeping hiseyesontheroad,Zanepressedhislipstogether hard, andhishands curled tightly around thesteering wheel. "It's anice dream," he finally answered, his voice as unsteady as the rest of him. "But I'd never be able to sleep. And neither would you," he said softly.

Tycouldn't helpbutsmile."Yeah," heresponded ashelookedback out the window.

Theyweresilentforseveralmoreminutesastheysatinmidday traffic.

"Okayso,changeofvenue,"Zanesaidsuddenlyinaslightlylouder voicethanhe'dintended,hopingtodispelthefunkthathadsettledoverthem. "How about a jazzy place in Greenwich?Good restaurants.Great bars."

"You talking hotels?" Ty asked dubiously.

"Morebungalow-typesetups.Rentbytheweek.Artsyplaces,"Zane explained. "It's different."

"Do I look like an artsy type to you?" Ty asked, bristling on principle.

Itdidn'tevenfazeZane."Youlooklikesexonlegstome.You'll blend in, no problem."

"I swear toGod, if you try to put me in leather pants or some shit like that I'll kill you," Ty warned with a point of his finger at Zane.

"Iwasthinkingalongthelinesofnopants,baby,"Zanesaidwitha smirk. "In our room, anyway."

ThatgaveTypauseandhepursedhislipstoconsider. "Yeah,okay," he finally agreed with a smirk.

Zanefound aneclecticneighborhood with bohemian shops, art galleries, and peopleallovertheplace.Theyluckedoutandfoundafurnished studio apartment forrentratherthanahotel,andthelandlord washappytorentto themforanunspecifiedamountoftimeaslongasitcamewiththehefty down payment they offered, no questions asked. Hundredsof people drifted in and out of Greenwicheach year. These two men were nothing special.

Thethree-room apartment thatwashalfofthethirdfloorofanold brownstonewasdecoratedinwarmcolorsandcomfortablefabrics.There were no electronics,except for a phone,but there was wirelessinternet coming from somewhere,probably the small café across the street.

Zanedroppedhisbagandboxontheroundtableinthefrontroom. HeturnedtoseeTysurveying theroomwarily,anditmadehimsmile. "Coming in?"

"I don't know," Ty frowned. "Does it smell like hemp and incense?"

"Just the bed," Zane said straight-faced.

"Too bad," Ty replied seriously. "That was the only part I was looking forward to."

Zane's lipstwitched. "Stillhavethecouch," hesaid,tryingtogetTy into the room.

Tytookastepintotheroomandstoppedstubbornly. "Ifeelmy manhood seeping out of me," he muttered.

Zanedroppedhisjacketonawingbackchairafterpullingthebottle of Mountain Dew out of it. The apartment was cute and quaint; somewhere no one would ever look for twoFBI agents. Hepulled hisgun out oftheholster and set it on the table as Ty ventured further into the rooms.

WhenZaneturnedhisattentionbacktohispartner,Tyhadhisback tohim,hisjacket wasoff,andhisholster satsnug against hispressed blue dressshirt.Hewasrubbingthebackofhisneckandlooking downatthebed in front of him, his free hand on his hip. Looking at the shined dress shoes and the expensive, tailored suit he wore, from this angle he may as well have been a different person from the one Zane had worked with before.

Zanewondered whathadhappened toTy'scrazyT-shirts. Theyhad fithisstyleandhishard-ass image.He'd probably packed them away,Zane figured, packed them away with allhis old habits and thoughts as the physical and mental therapy had taken over.

Zane missed those T-shirts.

Watching him,Zaneconsidered pullingTyintohisarmsinhopesthe manmightrelaxalittle.ButthevibeTywasputting outclearly saidthat touchingofanysortwasnotthewaytorelaxhim.Stretching,Zanesighed anddugintohisduffel,lookingforacleanT-shirt.Unfortunately allofhis were plain ones.

Hewenttothebedandpulledthecoversback,smoothing hishand over the sheets before heading to the bathroom. It had been along day, and he was more than ready to rest.

Tyfollowedhimandleanedagainstthedoorframethatledintothe bathroom asZanewentovertotheantiqueovalmirrorabovethesink.Zane washed upasTymoved closertohim,andhestiffened insurprise whenTy wrapped his arms around him from behind.

"It's good to have you here," Ty told him impulsively.

Zane shifted back, closer toTy's body, sliding hisarm backand around Ty's waist topress flush against him. Tyheld him silently, settling his chin onZane's shoulder after several breaths. Zane turned his cheek into Ty's and closed his eyes, and Tywaited tensely for some sort ofresponse, flushing at the words he had uttered.

"Iwouldn'thaveagreedtocomehere,ifithadn'tbeenyou,"Zane murmured finally. "Don't you know that?"

Tyjerkedalittleinsurprise,buthedidn'treleasehim."Why?"he asked in a whisper.

Zaneclosedhiseyesandkepttheircheekspressedtogether."Itrust you."

A flush of guilt swept through Ty with thewords. He couldn't say the same about why he had agreed to take this case. He would have come alone. It wasrevengeforhim,pureandsimple.Unfinishedbusiness.Heturnedhis head more and pressed hisnose against Zane's cheek. "Then you're afucking idiot," he said gruffly.

Zanechuckled."Yeah,butyoualreadyknewthat."Tywassilent. Zanepulledawaygentlyandmovedpasthim,figuringnoothercommenton Ty'spartmeantthetalkingthingwasdone.Hewentoutintothemainroom and reached for his duffel to dig out his shower kit.

Tylethim move away, aheavy feeling inhischest andanunsettled feelingeverywhereelse.Hecouldn'tseemtofeelanythingbutguiltunless Zane was near him. Why was that? Why did he need Zane in order to feel?

"We do better when we're fucking," Ty muttered to him as he followed him back out into the room.

Zanesnortedquietly."Newsflash,"hesaidashesatontheedgeof the bed and began unlacing his boots.