“If you like these jeans that much, maybe I should get some new clothes for at home. Been a while since I’ve bought anything but suits for work,” Zane said, assuming an idle tone, though Ty knew full well it was meant to needle him.
“Agreed,” Ty said, adding a nod to emphasize that, yeah, Zane needed an all new wardrobe, preferably one that showed off his incredible shoulders and back, because Ty had to admit, that was his favorite part of Zane. He glanced sideways at Zane and smirked. “We’re going to Navy Pier now. There’s something you should see.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Always.”
They walked several blocks south, then cut east past Pritzker Military Library to make for the lake. From the circle where cabs were coming and going, picking up and dropping off, they could look down the length of the ordered chaos that was Chicago’s Navy Pier. The Ferris wheel and other rides, the yachts and touring boats moored at the docks, the seemingly endless array of shops and restaurants, extending as far as the eye could see from where he and Zane stood together.
“What is Navy Pier?” Zane asked as he followed Ty through a red metal arch bearing those words.
“It’s… I don’t know. It’s got a Ferris wheel,” Ty said with a careless shrug. “It’s like the Field Museum and Wrigley Field. You have to go do it if you go to Chicago.”
“Everything I know about Chicago I learned from The Blues Brothers,” Zane said, distracted as they walked past small booths and ticket stands.
“Jesus, Zane,” Ty muttered. “So I came here last night very briefly because I needed a drink. You need to see this.” He gave Zane’s hand a tug, leading him inside the shopping area and wending through the mass of people, shops, and mobile vendors. When he stopped, they were standing in front of Garrett Popcorn Shop. Ty waved a hand at it with pride, as if it were somehow his doing.
Zane pulled off the aviators and laughed. “That’s great,” he said as he looked in the window.
Ty put his hand on the small of Zane’s back and ushered him in, pointing to the far wall where the shop had several T-shirts hanging. The white one in the middle, the same one Ty had bought yesterday and stowed in his bag, had yellow-orange cheddar cheese and golden-brown caramel handprints on the chest and the slogan “Love Can Be Messy” above the word Garrett and the shop’s logo. It had been too perfect for Ty to pass up.
Zane’s lips pressed together into a thin line, and when he glanced at Ty, Ty could see the amusement in Zane’s eyes. It made them shine, the dark brown warm and inviting. Ty’s chest tightened as he looked at his lover. Why the hell couldn’t every day be like this?
“That’s pretty good. I ought to get one,” Zane said, plucking at the sleeve.
Ty stepped up behind him, letting his hand linger on Zane’s back, soaking up the feeling of being with him again. “You can borrow mine,” he murmured, smiling.
Zane turned his head, letting his nose brush Ty’s cheek.
Ty closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the moment. “Come on,” he said after a few seconds of content silence. “Let’s go see the sights for a few hours. Pretend it’s real.”
Zane’s brow wrinkled. “Pretend what’s real?”
Ty slid his hand down Zane’s arm and linked their fingers again. “That I can hold your hand without worrying about being recognized,” he said with a smile. He tugged at Zane’s hand, wanting to get out of the shops and back onto the pier to see the water and the view.
Zane’s smile reappeared and he nodded. “Anytime you want.”
Ty gave him a melancholy smile, squeezing his hand. It was a shame they didn’t get to go out and hold hands like this at home. A crying shame. But they couldn’t risk being recognized and outed at work. As soon as they both retired, though, Ty intended to hold Zane’s hand everywhere they went.
“WHAT are you going to tell them?” Randall Jonas asked as Burns dialed the number for his man in Chicago.
“As little as possible,” Burns answered. He was silent as he waited for an answer, and when he spoke he was using some sort of code that Jonas didn’t begin trying to decipher. “Your father says hello,” Burns told his agent. It must have been some sort of activator.
Jonas watched him as he exchanged a few more seemingly mundane pleasantries; then he broke the code and just outright said the information he’d intended to pass on. “Consider your mark armed and extremely dangerous. He’s a federal informant who’s gone off the grid, and we need him here, in my office.”
Jonas frowned, confused by Burns’ methods. But then, Burns had never had regular methods to begin with.
“I don’t care how you do it, just get him here. In one piece. Don’t ‘yes, sir’ me, you little shit, just don’t get dead.” He hung up and looked at Jonas with a worried frown.
“Can your men really bring in Cross without any backup?” Jonas asked.
Burns pursed his lips. “Yes. I’d put these two against any of your spooks, any day of the week.”
Jonas raised an eyebrow, and he couldn’t help but smile at his old friend’s confidence. “Them’s fightin’ words.”
“Bring it, old man.”
Chapter 4
“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?” Out of long habit, he slid his hand into his new jacket 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 the 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.