“Cameron,” Julian called. “Unless you want the irritating one to help you pack, I suggest you hurry.”
“He always do the heavy lifting for you, Cross?” Ty asked the man in a low, amused voice.
“Yes, he does. Cooks and cleans too. Makes me feel more like a man,” Julian said without a hint of sarcasm. “Wanker.”
“At least you’ll have someone to argue with,” Cameron said as he emerged with two bags, one on each shoulder, one of which Julian took as soon as Cameron stopped beside him.
“I would prefer to shoot him, not argue with him,” Julian mumbled. He adjusted one of the straps and looked up at Ty and Zane, raising his chin. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to confiscate my weapon?”
Ty glanced at Zane and smirked. “He’s got the stiff upper lip going now,” he said as he pulled his gun.
“That would be the British,” Julian said.
“Same thing,” Ty said, knowing it would upset an Irishman. He pointed his gun at Julian’s feet. “Guns on the couch. Mr. Jacobs, if you would please join my partner over here,” he said with a tilt of his head at Zane, mimicking Julian’s proper speech, “he’ll be kind enough to handcuff you again and frog-march you downstairs.”
“Do you work at being this rude?” Cameron asked. Ty could hear Zane choking on what might have been a laugh.
“I said please.”
Zane was tamping down a smile as he took Cameron in hand and cuffed him. “Now, Mr. Cross,” Zane said, “I’m betting that you’re going to be quite willing to cooperate as long as we treat Mr. Jacobs well.”
“Is not treating me well a possibility?” Cameron asked, his voice wavering as he kept his eyes on Julian.
Julian shook his head as he looked at Cameron. He extracted the weapons hidden on his person and put them on the couch as he’d been told, continuing to keep his eyes on Cameron. They seemed to be communicating. Ty recognized the way one lover could speak to another without words. He cleared his throat and moved toward Julian with care.
The man put his hands up behind his head, but something about him still made Ty wary. He could almost smell the capabilities of the man. He very carefully moved his hand up one of Julian’s arms and down the other, then slid the handcuffs onto one wrist and clicked them into place.
“Those are some impressive cats,” he said as he holstered his gun and used both hands to secure Julian’s behind his back. “How long have you had them?”
“As long as they can remember,” Julian answered without looking away from Cameron.
Ty looked over the man’s shoulder at Zane and rolled his eyes. He snapped the other cuff down hard, then patted him down. He found a long sliver of metal embedded in each sleeve, just at the cuffs, but no other weaponry.
Julian sighed in annoyance as Ty removed the lock pick pieces.
“Poor hired killer, took away his toys,” Ty said in mocking sympathy. “We’re good,” he said to Zane, patting Julian on the back.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Jacobs,” Zane said. “You’ll be in DC in about seven hours, and dealing with us will be but a happy memory.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Julian murmured. He turned. “That second bag is quite heavy. Do mind your back, Agent Grady,” he said with utmost sincerity, then smirked and began moving toward Zane and the door. Cameron shifted away from Zane as Julian approached, but he didn’t try to move any further.
“If we want to make the plane, we need to go now,” Zane said.
Ty thought seriously about leaving the bags on the floor, but even he wasn’t that much of a bastard. He bent and hefted both bags with a muttered curse. He nodded, turning one last time to salute the man he knew was probably still on the opposite roof, watching them through a scope.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” he grunted as he headed for the door. “Mr. Jacobs, you’re going to need to stop cowering. Garrett won’t hurt you. Much.”
“Actually, in my experience, it’s the tall, dark, and silent types who are the most dangerous,” Cameron said as he preceded Zane out the door.
“Oh Christ, he’s one of those, isn’t he?” Ty muttered.
“You have no idea,” Julian said in return.
PRESTON watched through the scope of his Parker Hale Model 85 as the two agents led Julian and Cameron out of the apartment and shut the door behind them. He raised his head to look down at the street and the cab waiting.
One thing was certain after seeing the face of the man waving to him in his scope: he couldn’t just take them out from up here. He didn’t know why, but the man looked familiar. He didn’t wait for them to emerge on the street, instead packing up and moving as he pulled out his cell phone. He dialed the only number he really could in this situation.
“Hello, sir,” he said as soon as Blake Nichols answered.
“I know you call Julian ‘sir’ to annoy him, but do you really have to do it to me too?” Blake asked, amused.
“I apologize, sir, but we have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Blake asked, tone changing.
“Two federal agents have just taken Mr. Cross into custody.”
“What?”
“I said, two federal agents—”
“I heard you, Preston!”
“Of course, sir,” Preston said as he trotted down the steps of the building he’d been using as his sniper’s nest.
“What agency?”
“I can’t be certain. They had FBI badges, but one of them—”
“Were they CIA?”
“Possibly, sir. I couldn’t tell.”
“That was f**king fast. Stay on them, Preston, but do not move on them, understood? I’ll get back to you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Preston flipped the phone closed and picked up the pace, hurrying to the ground level so he’d have a chance to catch up with that cab.
Chapter 5
TSA used the screened-off area for security searches to pass through airline crews, law enforcement, and VIPs. It was quicker than going through as a regular passenger but still a lot of scrutiny, especially when it came to checking prisoners.
Ty and Zane had debated over whether to go through the law enforcement line since they were supposed to be operating dark, but the risk of taking Julian Cross through the searches without being restrained was too high, and trying to explain that he was handcuffed because he wasn’t coming willingly without identifying themselves as FBI would get awkward.