Chapter Eight

"There are a few steps up just inside," Zane said as they stopped outside a full plate-glass door under a blue awning hanging off a red brick building. "Four, maybe? It's not like I've counted before."

"You don't have to tell me, baby. I can see them," Ty reminded gently.

Ty pulled the door open and guided Zane through. They went up the steps slowly, and Ty cast a critical eye around the restaurant. He'd never been there, but Zane was always producing leftovers in brown paper bags and seemed to enjoy the food.

It was definitely an old building: exposed brick walls had been kept intact inside. The carpet was brown and red and sort of ornate floral in a vintage Italian style. There was a dining room full of patrons in front of them and another to the right. The furniture was dark, heavy wood, including a full wine case directly in front of them where an array of takeout menus, business cards, and a bowl of mints sat. The waiting area was quite small; maybe a dozen people could stand around, and it would be tight. Even the five people already there waiting made it difficult to look around.

An older woman, slight and gray-haired, dressed in the black waitstaff uniform, walked out of the dining room to the right. "Good evening, gentlemen. Two for dinner?" Then Zane turned toward her, and she added, "Oh, Mr. Garrett, lovely to see you again." She had a thick accent.

"I wish I could say the same, Leticia," Zane murmured with a vague wave at his eyes.

She broke out with a sharp question in a language that Ty definitely recognized as Italian. It made him flinch like one of Pavlov's dogs waiting to be hit with an ostrich leather hobo bag.

Zane shrugged in answer to her. She tut-tutted him and turned to Ty. "This way, please. I have a table for you now," she said, ignoring the other customers waiting who had been there first.

Ty looked after her, then turned to frown at Zane. "You speak Italian now?" he asked dangerously. It was still a touchy topic, even almost three months after the cruise ship assignment where not knowing Italian had almost gotten him killed.

"I have no idea what she said," Zane said under his breath. "But it didn't sound good, now did it?"

"I was about to smack you," Ty grumbled. He kept a loose hold on Zane's elbow as the woman led them to one of the tables near a wide window. They didn't even have to weave around many tables to get to it.

Ty glanced around the dining room as he took off his jacket. It was an okay place, but the food had to be spectacular for Zane to eat here three times a week. Ty much preferred his pub; it had character. And a bottle of Grand Marnier with his name on it behind glass over the bar. One-Eyed Mike's was four blocks from his house and almost halfway between his house and Zane's apartment. Much less classy and much more comfortable. He shook his head as he slid into one of the seats.

Zane tentatively reached out to his side, and his fingertips brushed the glass window. "Okay, I know where I am," he said, sounding satisfied as he shrugged out of his jacket.

Leticia whisked by again, dropping off glasses of ice water, a basket of what looked like fresh-baked bread, a dish of real butter pats, and two large single-sheet menus printed on heavyweight paper. After a pause, she took Zane's menu back and patted him on the shoulder. "Ryan will be right out," she announced before leaving.

"Well. I guess it's pretty obvious I can't see, huh?" Zane commented.

Ty looked up from the menu. He narrowed his eyes, leaned forward to look at Zane closer, then reached out slowly and waved his hand in front of Zane's face. Zane didn't even blink. "It's... pretty obvious," he said apologetically. He sighed and looked down at the menu again. When he and his brother had been little and gone to visit their great-grandparents, they had amused themselves by blindfolding each other and attempting to navigate various obstacles, just to see how Grandmother Griffin had done it.

But there was a difference between closing your eyes and being blind. Even with a blindfold, there were still variances in light that could give you hints as to where you were and what was going on.

Complete and total darkness—blindness—could be a lonely and frightening thing. Zane was taking it pretty well, considering.

Ty returned his attention to the menu full of Italian dishes and grimaced. "You come here three days a week? Every week?"

Zane edged a shoulder up. "It's right here by my place, and I love Italian food. There's plenty of choices if you don't want traditional red sauce. Sometimes I just get the Baltimore salad."

Ty looked up at him dubiously. "I don't get what's so special about..." He trailed off as he saw a waiter come around the corner and head for their table.

The man was dressed all in black like the others, and he was impressively fit. The black T-shirt might as well have been painted over well-defined muscles. His shoulders were broad, and he was trim through the waist. He had dusky skin and sharp, defined facial features, and his hair would have been dark if it hadn't been shorn down practically to the scalp. It made him look sleek.

"Oh," Ty muttered dejectedly.

"Hmm?" Zane asked as he messed with his napkin. Ty shook his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying not to laugh.

The waiter stopped at another table briefly, then hurried over to them. His lips were pulled into a worried frown. "Zane," the man said as he took the last couple of steps to the table. "Leticia told me something had happened." When he stopped, he put a hand on Zane's shoulder.

To Ty's mild surprise, Zane didn't flinch away. "You could say that," he replied as he waved a hand at his eyes. "Work hazard. Got caught a little too close to the explosion at the shopping complex," he added in a very short explanation.

Ty watched Zane and the handsome waiter converse, knowing he had one eyebrow raised and his mouth hanging open. He couldn't help it.

"That's terrible!" the man exclaimed. "You can't see anything?"

Zane shook his head. "Nothing at all. So I have to have help to get around." He gestured across the table at Ty. "Ryan, this is my partner, Ty Grady. Ty, this is Ryan Morelli."

"Hi," Ty said unenthusiastically.

"Welcome to Chiapparelli's," Ryan said with a pleasant smile. "Thanks for bringing Zane by. If I don't see him every few days, I wonder if he's sitting at home starving."

"Gee, thanks," Zane muttered.

"That's... that's... nice," Ty managed to get out. He cleared his throat and reached for his napkin.

Ryan laughed and pushed at Zane's shoulder. "I've seen that kitchen. It's a travesty. Mine is much better. Now, what can I get you gentlemen for dinner? Zane, we've got the gnocchi today," he said, clearly trying to tempt him.

"So it's either sit at home and starve or eat here and spend an extra hour at the gym every night to work off the calories," Zane said ruefully. "Yes, the gnocchi sounds good. And some fried provolone to start."

"I'll bring you some iced tea." Ryan turned his attention to Ty. "Can I bring you a drink? We have a wine list and a fully stocked bar. And I'm happy to describe anything on the menu for you."

Ty was glaring at Zane, and he had a hard time wiping it off his face before he looked up at the waiter. He smiled woodenly and nodded. "You have Guinness?"

"Yeah, we have to cater to the other Europeans too," Ryan said with a grin. "A pint, then?"

Ty nodded and shot another glare at Zane, irritated that his partner couldn't even see it.

"We've got all your traditional Italian favorites," Ryan said, gesturing at the menu. "We also got in fresh fish today, if that sounds good."

Zane chuckled quietly and covered his mouth with his hand, probably to hide a grin. Ty hadn't been fond of fish since the cruise debacle.

Ty cleared his throat again and offered the waiter another smile that probably came across as more of a snarl. "Anything with white sauce," he ordered as he handed the man his menu.

"Can do. That comes with our house salad, unless you'd like to substitute?" Ryan asked. He glanced at Zane briefly for about the third time.

Ty bit his lip and shook his head. He offered the man another forced smile, then returned his death glare to Zane.

"Okay, then," Ryan continued. "I'll be back with your drinks and appetizer." He patted Zane's shoulder again.

"Thanks," Zane said, tipping his head back to smile in Ryan's general direction.

As soon as Ryan moved away, Ty leaned his elbows on the table and kicked Zane's shin under the white linen tablecloth. Zane yelped and jostled the table, setting the ice water in the glasses to rocking. "What's that for?" he asked, a wounded look on his face.

"You eat here three times a week," Ty said through gritted teeth.

"Sometimes," Zane said, brow furrowing. "So?"

"So? Jersey Shore over there is awfully pretty," Ty grumbled. "‘My kitchen is better than yours,'" he mimicked under his breath as he reached for his water glass.

Zane tipped his head to one side, looking thoughtful. "He brought my carry-out a few weeks ago when I called in an order and then forgot because I was talking to Freddy about a search warrant."

"How thoughtful of him," Ty said drily.

Zane shrugged. "He's a nice guy. I guess I've been a pretty good customer lately."

Ty continued to glare at him evilly. And Zane continued to be oblivious, since he couldn't see it. Damn him. "That's not why he did it. You're lucky I feel sorry for you right now or I'd kick your ass," he muttered as he looked out the window.

Zane stopped picking apart the bread he had in hand. "What for?"

Ty continued to grumble at him as he sipped at his water. Although Zane couldn't see, he was sitting right across from Ty, so it looked like his partner was peering right at him.

Then Zane blinked a couple of times and sat back. "Okay, I just caught up with the ‘pretty' comment."

"Little slow on the uptake?" Ty challenged.

Mischief chased across Zane's face before he cleared his throat and hid it. "You'd probably kick me again if I said the scenery here was as good as the food, huh?"

"Zane," Ty said warningly.

Zane rolled his eyes and shook his head. "The food really is good," he insisted.

"It better be," Ty warned. He peered at Zane, letting himself investigate the feeling rippling through him. It wasn't that he suspected anything was going on, because he knew Zane better than that. But the sensation of being jealous, no matter how slight it was, was something foreign to Ty. He almost liked it, safe in the knowledge that Zane was completely unaware of the attention.

"He delivers, huh?" Ty said to Zane quietly. "I'm burning every little brown bag I find in your fridge from now on."

Zane just smiled innocently. "Even the cheesecake?"

Ty liked that damn cheesecake; of course it came from here.

"Don't push me, Stevie Wonder," he growled.

"Yeah, I understand," Graham whispered into the cell phone, trying to cover his annoyance. Pierce was getting on his nerves with all his damn orders, and in Graham's opinion, he was taking this shit too seriously.

It was one thing to steal money from big banks to pad his wallet. The banks were insured. It didn't hurt anybody. But the bombs were real now and getting bigger and meaner. Pierce liked the destruction. He wanted to hurt people, especially cops. He said they were making some kind of statement now, not just creating a diversion to keep the cops distracted. It was making Graham and the others nervous. He hadn't signed up for a manifesto; he just wanted the extra cash.

"This is the big one, man. We need all hands on deck," Pierce was saying furtively. "The best way to expose society's corruption is to split it open bit by bit and show everyone—everyone!—just what we're dealing with here. The government pigs—"

Graham rolled his eyes. Who talked like that? "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll be there, okay? I have to go or I'm gonna get fired." He hung up before Pierce could start into his "manifesto" again.

He peered through the kitchen door to see if table three was clear yet. He could see Ryan out there talking to two big dudes who looked vaguely familiar. Graham belatedly recognized the darker one. Mr. Garrett. No, Agent Garrett. He was some sort of government guy, always smiling and friendly, didn't make a fuss, always left generous tips. He seemed like a decent guy, for a Fed.

Graham looked at them closer, wondering why Garrett looked odd. He wasn't exactly looking at Ryan when he spoke to him, nor was he looking at the pissed-off guy in the blue suit across the table from him. He seemed to be staring off into the middle distance.

When Ryan left them and came through the door, he looked troubled. Graham nodded at the table. "What's wrong with him?"

Ryan looked back at the two men. "He said he was one of the agents caught in that explosion down at the harbor shops. He lost his vision." He gave them one last sympathetic glance and then was gone, off to the kitchen to put in an order.

Suddenly Graham recognized them: the two agents from television that Pierce had the vendetta against. The other man's name was Grady, and Pierce had yet to stop talking about him.

Caught in the explosion. Graham stood looking out at Agent Garrett. The explosion they set in the shopping mall. The bomb Pierce insisted needed to be bigger and better.

Graham had been sitting beside Hannah when she'd reluctantly called in the tip that sent the cops and FBI to that building. He had helped lure Agent Garrett into that building. Because of him and his friends, that man, a decent man, a man he knew, was now blind. How many more people like him had they hurt? Or killed?

Graham's stomach turned. He ran and took the stairs two at a time, trying to get to the bathroom before he was sick.

Zane sighed as he shut the front door and leaned back against it. While dinner had been great—the food at Chiapparelli's always was— he'd been tense, even in those familiar surroundings, all too aware that someone could walk up behind him at any time. Having Ty there had helped, but Zane was still glad to be home.

"Will you put my leftovers in the fridge?" Zane asked as he held out the brown bag holding the plastic and tin container, stifling the laugh that threatened.

Ty snatched it from him with a grunt. A moment later Zane heard the bag hit the floor, and without warning he was slammed against the door behind him. Ty held him there by both shoulders, fingers digging in hard. But he ghosted his lips along Zane's in gentle contrast to the rough treatment. Zane caught his breath, surprised by the dichotomy and immediately interested in more.

Ty pressed against him, licking at his lips. "I think you should find a new favorite restaurant," he murmured before dragging his teeth across Zane's lower lip.

Zane swallowed hard. "But I like that one." He settled his hands on Ty's hips, his fingers sliding on the soft, fine fabric of Ty's trousers.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Ty growled playfully. He pushed Zane against the door harder and forced his tongue between Zane's lips, running it along the inside of his teeth. He crowded against Zane in an unspoken demand.

Heat flushed through Zane in a sudden wash, and he felt the urgent need to beg for more. He'd been handled with kid gloves for two days now. He needed Ty all over him—the rougher the better. When their mouths finally parted, he deliberately fanned the flames. "Lots of reasons to keep going there," he said, breathless.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" Ty asked in a low voice. It was almost a purr with Ty's rough mountain twang.

Zane let out a shaky breath as he felt his body react to the arousal starting to spread through him. "Seems to me you already are." He dug his fingers in where his hands rested at Ty's waist.

Ty pushed his face closer to Zane's, causing his lips to move against Zane's when he spoke, his voice dropping to a growl. "I am," he admitted shamelessly. Zane could feel him smiling. Ty might have been telling the truth, that he really was jealous, but he was also enjoying it. "I think you should start liking seafood instead of Italian."

Zane opened his mouth to answer, but a shaky moan came out instead. He had to stop and take a breath and try again, and he pulled Ty's dress shirt out of his waistband while he was at it. "I do like seafood. They have that there too," he drawled, shifting his groin against Ty's thigh.

"Damn it, Zane," Ty snarled before he kissed Zane again, with no regard for soft lips caught against teeth. He reached between them to yank at Zane's belt, then shoved at his jeans, pushing them down his hips. He forced his tongue into Zane's mouth hungrily and ground their bodies together.

Zane's gut clenched; hearing and feeling Ty this worked up was a hell of a turn-on. And the fact that it was because Ty was feeling possessive... Zane's head spun with delight, and he tried to give as good as he got. Ty pulled back from him just long enough to shuck his suit jacket and yank his shirt and undershirt over his head. Zane could feel the bare skin under his fingertips, soft and warm, shifting over muscles he could trace with his eyes closed. Then Ty was on him again, hands all over him as he tugged and yanked at Zane's clothing, biting at his lips and his chin and his neck, sucking on his earlobe and growling, "You're mine. Jersey Shore can get his own."

The arousal ripped through Zane so quickly that his knees went weak, and he sagged against the door with a soft moan, Ty's body pinning him there. "Baby," he gasped helplessly.

Ty finally managed to get Zane's shirt unbuttoned, and he pushed it down Zane's arms and left it there, tangled at his wrists. He dragged his hands up Zane's hips and around his waist to delve under his briefs and grab his ass possessively, then squeezed hard as he thrust his groin against Zane's and kissed him. Under Ty's hands, Zane could do nothing but writhe against the door and try to return the kisses best he could. He had to struggle to get the sleeves of his shirt untangled from his hands, and Ty didn't help him at all. When he finally got loose, he clutched at one of Ty's shoulders for support.

Ty moved his hands, fingers digging into soft flesh as he pushed Zane's briefs down. "Don't fucking move," Ty growled against his lips. And then he was gone, pushing away from Zane and disappearing into silence. Zane almost flailed as he lost his hold, and he flattened himself against the door, trying to keep from sliding to the floor along with his underwear. He sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm down a little. His cock was hard and aching, near-rigid against his abdomen, and he almost reached down to try to relieve a little of the pressure, but Ty's words echoed in his ears, and no way was he going to disobey an order like that. He moved just enough to kick out of his jeans and briefs.

He distantly heard the sound of a drawer opening and shutting, and after a few short moments, Ty was back. When he touched Zane, it was obvious that he'd stripped off the rest of his clothes while moving. They'd be tripping over Ty's blue suit all the way to the bedroom. If they got that far. When Ty pressed against him, it was all hard muscle, smooth skin, and rough hands. He grabbed at the backs of Zane's thighs and tugged, pulling Zane's feet away from the door and almost off the floor. It lowered Zane to Ty's height, and Ty rubbed his hard cock against Zane's as he licked and sucked and nipped at Zane's lips.

Zane grabbed for Ty's shoulders and held on tight. Ty was hot and hard all over, and Zane needed him badly. "Baby, please," Zane groaned.

"Oh, now I'm ‘baby', am I?" Ty asked gruffly, his voice husky and strained. "What happened to making me jealous? Teasing poor Ty with the hot waiter?" His hand grabbed Zane's ass again and squeezed hard; then he pulled at the back of Zane's thigh and bent his knees, lowering himself enough to yank Zane's left leg over his hip.

Zane shifted his weight to his right leg, reached out to grab the doorknob with his left hand, and hooked his other arm over Ty's shoulder, needing some kind of leverage as Ty manhandled him. "Need you too much to tease," he got out between breaths. "Didn't plan it, really didn't."

Ty hummed disbelievingly. Zane heard the distinctive pop of the cap on the tube of lubricant, and then Ty's hand was between them, squeezing the cold gel out onto his own cock and onto Zane's. He tossed the tube away, and Zane heard it land somewhere as Ty's hand wrapped around both of them and began to jack them slowly.

His lips came to rest against Zane's for a moment before moving. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your name," he promised in an oddly intimate voice. He pulled Zane's lower lip between his and dragged his teeth along it.

Zane clutched at his lover desperately as Ty's hand squeezed.

Fuck, he wanted that. "Please . . . please, Ty."

"Nobody likes a beggar," Ty whispered. He hiked Zane's leg up higher and reached behind him with his slick hand. His fingers were hot as they massaged at Zane, teasing at him, taunting him by dipping deeper and twisting. They fucked often enough that it didn't take much preparation, sometimes nothing but lubricant. Ty was doing this now because he wanted to tease Zane, not because Zane needed it.

Zane gasped out a laugh. "You love it when I beg."

Ty growled again, biting down harder on Zane's lip as he moved with alarming speed and power. He hooked his arm under Zane's leg and hefted him farther up the door, getting a gasp of surprise out of Zane. That leg now rested in the crook of Ty's arm, and Zane's balance on the other was threatened when Ty slammed Zane against the door, holding him there with the weight of his body and the strength of his arms. His hands tugged at Zane's hips, bowing Zane's back, and Zane could feel the head of Ty's cock, rock hard against his ass.

A wild, needy keen tore from Zane's throat as his fingers scrabbled for purchase on Ty's skin. He would have given anything to see Ty's face right at this moment. He could imagine it: hazel eyes sparking, brow furrowed and full lips pursed with concentration and intent. The amount of pure brute strength and violent desire it had to take for Ty to practically pick Zane up and hold most of his weight was incredible.

He jostled Zane some more, grunting and sucking air through his teeth as he struggled to get them in position. It took a few attempts as Ty fumbled and kissed him messily, but he finally forced himself inside Zane as he let gravity pull Zane's body down. By the purr that echoed through them both, Zane could tell Ty was savoring the slow slide, and when the head of his cock pushed past Zane's tight muscle, he punctuated it with another violent exploration of Zane's mouth and a hard thrust of his hips.

Zane's cry of pained pleasure was muffled by their kiss, and he dug in his fingers and tensed his leg, trying to hold onto Ty. It was uncomfortable and precarious and unbelievably fucking hot. Zane thought he might come at any moment, come all over Ty and himself right there, just as Ty was getting started. He would have been embarrassed if he didn't want it so badly.

"Fuck," he gasped as soon as their lips parted. "Oh fuck... Ty."

Ty didn't respond other than to bury his face in Zane's neck and thrust up into him again, over and over. He occasionally hitched Zane higher, the sensation of being picked up and then pulled down onto Ty's cock entirely different from anything Zane had experienced before. Ty panted heavily with exertion and bit at Zane's shoulder as if he wanted to simply devour him. Zane wanted to be eaten alive. He held on as the pleasure racked him until he couldn't conceive of anything but Ty's hands and teeth on his skin and riding Ty's cock.

A low growl started in Ty's throat, and the thrusts of his hips began to slam Zane erratically against the door. He tightened his hold on Zane's leg and ass and lifted him higher yet again, putting Zane on the toes of one foot, and Zane gasped as the warm skin of his back skipped on the weather-chilled painted metal of the door, catching and pulling. Ty's growl became a tortured, brutal shout as he fucked Zane painfully hard, without any regard for either of their bodies.

It only took a few of those thrusts to force a broken whine out of Zane as the tension in him snapped and he slammed into climax, coming in pulses with Ty's thrusts, his come smearing between them. Zane's entire body tensed and strained in Ty's arms, helpless. All he could do was trust Ty to keep him from falling and ride out the pleasure that was blotting out absolutely everything but his lover moving inside him, prolonging the orgasm.

It was a few more glorious seconds before Ty's movements froze and his body arched. He was silent as he came inside Zane. When his body uncoiled, he was gasping for breath, his forehead resting against Zane's shoulder. His skin was damp with sweat, and his arms and shoulders trembled as he pulled out of Zane quickly and lowered Zane's feet to the ground. But Zane's legs were far too wobbly to support him, and he grasped at Ty as he started to slide down the door to the thin carpet. Ty huffed a laugh, and they sank to the floor together. Ty shifted and sat down with a thump beside Zane, his back to the door and their shoulders brushing. He was breathing hard from the exertion, still gasping for air.

Zane leaned sideways and laid his head against Ty's shoulder. "What's my name again?" he murmured, still spinning. It was really hard to stop being dizzy when he couldn't focus his eyes on something to halt the motion.

Ty began to chuckle, though the sound was an exhausted one.

"That'll learn ya," he drawled, obviously pleased with himself.

Zane reached up to pet Ty's thigh and then splayed his hand in the curve of Ty's elbow just below where he rested his head. Ty's arm snaked around his shoulders and squeezed him tightly. He pressed a kiss to Zane's forehead, then buried his nose in Zane's hair and inhaled deeply.

"You know I don't care if you eat at that damn restaurant, right?" Ty murmured, his voice low and affectionate and oddly gentle after what they'd just done.

Zane turned his chin enough to press a kiss against Ty's collarbone as pleasant warmth filled him. "You know I've never even looked at him, right?"

Ty was silent for a long moment. Finally he turned his head and said, "Appropriate time for a blind joke here, or is it too soon?" Zane snickered and jabbed at Ty's ribs. "Jerk."

Ty laughed quietly, the sound warm and reassuring, as he nuzzled his nose into Zane's hair again. When the laughter ebbed, Zane realized Ty was holding his breath, and something about the slight tremble to Ty's body made Zane feel that Ty wanted to speak again. It wasn't the first time Zane had noticed it, and suddenly Zane realized what Ty was keeping himself from saying in moments like this:

I love you.

Zane squeezed his eyes shut and kissed Ty's shoulder again, resisting the urge to crawl into Ty's lap and do whatever he had to in order to get Ty to say it again. He wanted to hear it again, just once, after all these weeks, now that it meant so much more, now that Zane had acknowledged to himself that he knew what the leaden weight in his chest was. Now that he might be able to believe what he felt for Ty was real and not just a result of circumstance and proximity. Now that Zane needed courage he couldn't quite find to take that final step and deliberately fall.

"You okay?" Ty asked quietly. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Zane actually wasn't sure, but he shook his head anyway. "Floor's cold," he whispered as he shivered, and he recognized the source of that reaction. He was scared. There. He'd admitted it. He was scared, terribly scared, because Ty loved him and Zane didn't know how to handle it when he couldn't even explain how he felt himself because he was still digging through fear and guilt about the past and trying to justify reaching for the future he so desperately wanted...

"Yeah," Ty agreed contentedly. His fingers played with Zane's hair, his body relaxed against Zane's. He seemed perfectly happy to just sit there and hold Zane for the rest of the night. He cleared his throat and moved his chin to rest it on top of Zane's head. "We're never going to find that lube," he muttered in wry amusement.

"We'll get more," Zane murmured, gears still spinning as he tried to deal with the questions and uncertainty crashing down on him. Somewhere in it all was a pang of upset: wasn't loving someone supposed to be a happy thing? He cursed his innate habit of analyzing everything to death and turned his face into Ty's arm. "How about bed?" he suggested quietly. "I'd..." He shivered again.

Ty's chin moved again, and Zane got the impression Ty was peering down at him. "You'd what?"

Zane bit his lip for a moment before answering. "I'd really like you to hold me for a while," he whispered. It felt odd to say it like that, something so innocuous yet meaningful.

"I don't know... you're all sweaty," Ty said with mock distaste. He pressed his mouth and nose to Zane's cheek and smiled so Zane could feel it. He inhaled deeply, growling on the exhale. "You smell good, though."

The weight on Zane's chest let up a little as Ty kept his response light. Zane wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He reached out to drag his fingers down Ty's chest to his belly, where Zane's come had smeared between them. "Could shower first," he offered.

"No point in that," Ty murmured. "Yet."

Zane grunted inquisitively.

Ty smiled against his cheek again, then pulled his arm away and pushed himself to his feet with a groan. "Oh my God," he bemoaned. "I'm too old for that."

"Ha!" Zane scoffed from the floor. "As the man eight-plus years older than you who just got fucked to the point of not being able to remember to breathe, I disagree."

Ty's hand found his and pulled him to his feet. He pulled Zane closer despite both of them still being sticky and kissed him chastely. "Are you complaining?" Ty asked seriously.

"Not even a tiny bit," Zane murmured as he found his physical balance. He leaned closer into Ty's arms, seeking the comfort he craved and needed for his emotional balance, which felt like an unbolted teeter-totter.

"Good. 'Cause that took a lot of energy," Ty said with obvious amusement. He let his hand slide down Zane's arm, and he took his hand. "Come on. I want to keep you in bed long enough for that pasta to go bad."

Graham stood on the sidewalk, staring wide-eyed at the door. What the hell kind of fight were those guys having?

He held the envelope between damp fingers. He'd written it quickly. He'd wanted to follow Mr. Garrett and his friend, but he'd missed them leaving the restaurant while he'd been washing dishes. He had been so panicked for a moment he'd almost told Leticia that he needed to go after them, but then he'd overheard Ryan talking about delivering to Mr. Garrett's and realized they had to have his address in the delivery logs. Turned out his place was only a block away, close enough he could walk there on his break, and so he had, shaky but determined.

Graham had to tell someone what Pierce was doing. Who better than an FBI agent who couldn't see his face to identify him?

But now, standing here, listening to what sounded like a violent disagreement inside, Graham was having second thoughts. The door actually rattled as someone pounded on it erratically. Well, the other dude had looked awfully angry when they were at Chiapparelli's.

Graham swallowed hard, steeled himself, and gripped the confession in his fist as he stepped up to the door. He wouldn't knock, because there was no way he was going to interrupt whatever epic battle was going on inside, so he smoothed the letter out with shaking hands and slipped it under the door.

It got stuck in the rubber doorstop and wouldn't push all the way under. Graham cussed to himself and shoved it harder. It crinkled up, and he stopped. Another bang and thump against the door followed by what sounded like a shout of pain made him jump back, and he looked up at the door, heart hammering in his throat. The letter wasn't going anywhere, but he sure as hell was.

He turned and jogged to the corner and around the block, back to the restaurant and safety.