Zane winced as he covered one ear. “Ty!” he called out as he snatched up his towel and hurried after his partner. He grabbed Tys arm when he caught up. “You cant go outside soaking wet and practically naked in the middle of goddamn January!” He started tugging Ty back toward their lockers, where they could at least grab shorts and T-shirts and running shoes.
“Cold is better than on fire,” Ty argued, though he let Zane drag him back. “Theres no fire down here.”
“You dont know that.”
“And the exit is twenty yards away,” Zane said as he hurriedly pulled Ty along behind him. “Now get dressed. And shoes.” “Garrett, when an alarm starts going off, I head for an exit!” Ty shouted unhappily. He wasnt panicking, of course. Ty never panicked unless he was trapped in the dark or couldnt find his beloved Bronco in the parking lot. He shucked the towel, pulled on a pair of shorts, and slid his feet into his worn athletic shoes. Then he grabbed Zanes arm and gave him a tug toward the exit, heedless of Zane trying to get into his shorts.
“Okay, damn, give me one second!” Zane exclaimed, grabbing his T-shirt and towel after shoving his feet into his running shoes, resisting Tys yanking as he leaned over to snatch up Tys T-shirt before letting his partner pull him along.
“Drag your feet later, Lone Star. Either the buildings on fire or its a drill and well be doing paperwork until our fingers bleed if were not out in time,” Ty insisted as he pulled Zane along the corridor toward the emergency exit. Ty was notoriously flighty and could be easily distracted, but in an emergency, he honed in on one thing and one thing alone: survival. There was no fighting the iron grip he had on Zanes arm or his insistence that being half-naked and outside was better than any alternative right then.
“Im thinking well get a little leeway since we were in the showers,” Zane bit off as they thundered up the concrete steps out of the basement and through the emergency door that led outside into the bitter cold and wind.
The morning sun blinded Zane as they pushed through the emergency exit and emerged onto the wet sidewalk in front of the building. The next thing he knew, Ty was ducking in front of him as if taking cover from a projectile, and Zane turned instinctively to check the threat. A shocking slap exploded across his face in a spray of ice water across shower-flushed skin.
Another immediate snap, this one on his upper arm, another on his thigh as something else hit him, and more water splattered across him in the chilled air as he spluttered and wiped his eyes with one hand, striking out with the other at something dark flying toward his face. He felt the brief sensation of rubber on his fingers and then another painful snap like a rubber band, then more water. Zane swung toward movement at his left side. Five heartbeats had passed.
By the time Zane realized hed just suffered through a barrage of colorful water balloons, Ty was standing again and looking at the rowdy crowd being pushed back behind the snow-dotted barriers on the sidewalk opposite the FBI building. More protesters.
Protesters lobbed more water balloons across the street. Ty deftly caught one, cradling it like a football to keep it from popping. He reared back as if preparing to sling it back toward the crowd.
“Grady!” Special Agent in Charge Dan McCoy barked from somewhere near the main entrance. Tys shoulders slumped, making him look like a scolded puppy who was miraculously good at dodging water balloons, and he dropped his ammunition as more landed around them.
Zane wasnt so calm. He angrily batted down the next balloon thrown at him, and it hit the concrete with a smack and splash. The frigid wind bit into his wet skin and sucked the breath from his lungs, and Zane couldnt suppress the shudder, still feeling the sting of busting balloons on his skin. “What the hell?”
“Quit bitching. At least theyre full of water and not something worse,” Ty shot back at Zane through gritted teeth. He folded his hands over his chest and the white words on his blue T-shirt—“Relax, Im hilarious”—and hunched his shoulders as he turned to look up at the concrete structure behind them. “Goddammit, its not on fire!”
Those around them close enough to hear began to laugh, including some of the protesters across the street. Zane shook his head. How the hell did Ty manage to relate to people without even trying? It would never cease to amaze him.
Another balloon sailed through the air, landing at the feet of a man with a bullhorn who stood near the entrance to the office building. He began to inform the crowd that any further action would be considered an attack on federal property and federal agents, and that arrests would be made. When the words “up to and including deadly force” came out of his mouth, the crowd began to rumble.
Zane had read the memos. But this was the first time he had personally run into an attack. “I guess they figure we wont arrest them for assault,” he said with a shake of his head as he watched his breath practically crystallize as he exhaled, it was so cold.
Ty looked around the crowd, his face expressionless. “Couple rubber rounds int-to them should f-fix them up,” he decided, his teeth beginning to chatter in the cold.
Zane snorted. “Into the balloons, or into the crowd?” He crossed his arms, mirroring his partner, and took a step back. He glanced at Ty. “Imagine the paperwork.”
“Garrett! Grady! Get your asses back inside!” McCoy yelled from across the lawn. “Im not signing off on the sick leave when you get pneumonia!”
“You say that now, but Im n-not f-filling out any f-forms!” Ty yelled back, stuttering harder. He was watching one of the agents decked out in riot gear, specifically eyeing the gun filled with rubber bullets. Another volley of balloons, yellow and green and red and blue, pulsing with freezing water, sailed through the air toward them.
If Ty had one of those rifles in hand, he could make an impressive show of those flying targets; that might clear these people out fast. Zane knew that was exactly what Ty was thinking. He also knew Ty wasnt thinking about the PR aftermath. Even when Ty considered the public backlash of his actions, he rarely cared.
“Fuck this,” Zane growled. He took Ty by the upper arm even as Ty took an impulsive step toward the man in riot gear. Zane turned them around and started pulling him back toward the building, dismissing the people watching and jeering at them.
“Those little yellow f-forms with the rippy s-sides, and the blue ones th-that ask the s-same questions f-fourteen times, and the goddamn p-pink ones that make your fingers b-blue,” Ty rambled as he followed along without protest. He sounded like Porky Pig. “Id f-fill all those out if I could sh-shoot someone right now.”