“Sorry, didnt mean to startle you. Here, you can clean off,” he said, and he draped a damp dishtowel over Zanes wrist.
“Thanks,” Zane murmured. “No problem, Zane, really.” Footsteps moved back toward the kitchen, and Zane followed as he tried to wipe juice and pulp off his arms.
“So, wheres your partner?”
Zane paused in surprise. “What?”
“Your partner? Ty, wasnt it?”
“Oh, yeah, Ty,” Zane said with a nod. “Hes at work.”
“Leaving you all on your own?” Ryans tone conveyed a slight disapproval.
Zane frowned. “No, hes just checking in. Wont be gone long.” “It was nice to meet him. You two must have different shifts since hes never in the restaurant with you. And now youre hurt and he still has to work. You must miss him.”
Zane blinked several times as what the man was saying filtered in. “Ah, no, we work together, actually. Hes my partner at the Bureau.”
“Really?” Zane could hear the surprise in Ryans voice. “Huh. I didnt get that at all. You said „partner, and I just assumed….” Zane tipped his head to one side, turning his face to where he thought Ryan stood. “Assumed what?” he asked carefully. “Sorry.” Now Ryan sounded embarrassed. “You make a handsome couple.” Zane was at a loss. Ryan had seen him and Ty at one dinner and had come to that conclusion? Then he laughed in more than slight amazement, and the words came out easy as could be. “No, youre right. We are… together. Not just at work. „Partner just makes me think work first.”
“Well, good-looking man like that, Id say you should think „together first and „work second.”
Zane could hear the smile in Ryans words. “Thats good advice,” he agreed.
“I know. Okay. All the cleanups done, foods in the fridge. Is there anything else I can do to help?” Zane shook his head, still a little thrown. Hed have to remember to tell Ty about this. Maybe hed drop his crusade against Chiapparellis. “Thank you for helping with the mess.”
“No problem. When you need more food, just call, and somebody will bring another package over or Ty can pick it up.” Ryan moved past him, toward the front door.
“Hopefully it wont last that long,” Zane said as the door opened. “Well keep our fingers crossed. Oh, I put the mail on the end of the island there. Take care, Zane.” The door shut before Zane got out another reply. Bemused, he slid onto a bar stool, then curiously reached out to pat the top of the bar. He occasionally got junk mail and circulars left on the steps out front or half-jammed under his door, and that was what the crumpled stack felt like. A couple of envelopes, one with no stamp, some single-sheet pieces of paper folded in halves or thirds, some large sheets of glossy paper with perforations. Zane set the stack back down to look at—to have Ty look at—later.
Right now he needed a shower or hed smell like Floridas Natural the rest of the day.
“WHAThave you got?” Ty asked as he walked into the conference room where Scott Alston sat working over stacks of paper.
“Youre not on this one, Grady,” Alston answered seriously. “Go home.” “I went home.”
“Yes, but then you came back.”
“Who won the pool?” Ty asked as he shrugged Zanes leather jacket off.
“Lassiter. Dammit,” Alston muttered. “I had you for four hours.” Ty snorted as he sat down across from the man to reach for the file he was working on. Alston pulled it away and taunted him with it, waving it just out of Tys reach.
“Youre wearing each others clothes now?” Alston asked wryly. “Long story,” Ty muttered. He gestured for the folder. “No,” Alston told him firmly. “Boss orders, man.”
“What?” Ty demanded.
“They saw you on that newscast, they blew up your car, they blew up your partner. You cannot be involved in the investigation.” “Give me information or I start making a scene.” “Like thats new,” Alston muttered as he held the file protectively to his chest and reached for a phone in the center of the conference table. He picked it up and pressed a button, then said in a deep, mockingly serious voice, “I need backup, Conference Room 4.”
It wasnt ten seconds later that Harry Lassiter and Fred Perrimore showed up at the door and looked in at Ty in amusement.
“You need to go see McCoy,” Alston said neutrally.
Ty pointed his finger at Alston and waved it threateningly. “Next time you get blown up, dont come whining to me.” Alston smirked crookedly at him. “Game next week is at seven,” he reminded as Ty stalked out of the office. “Dont forget youll need a ride!”
“Kiss my ass, Alston,” Ty shot back over his shoulder as he made his way to the Special Agent in Charges office. “You might as well come in, Grady. My trouble meter started dinging the minute you stepped in the building,” Dan McCoy said before Ty had even darkened his threshold. He sat behind his desk expectantly, smoothing his tie.
Tys jaw tightened as he bit back the response that immediately came to mind. He breathed out slowly through his nose, then calmly asked, “How long am I being kept out of the loop on this case?”
“As I said, were considering you a possible target,” McCoy said in his deep, gravelly voice, repeating what Alston had said. “You and Garrett were at both locations during the events. Now, I know it could just be coincidence,” he added, holding up a hand in a “wait” motion. “But until we know for sure, youre grounded.”
“Im not asking to be part of the investigation,” Ty pointed out as he stepped into the office. “I just want to know what weve found. Do we have suspects? Has forensics gone over the components? Was it even the same signature?”
“No, in process, and yes,” McCoy rattled back. “Look, Grady. Theres not much I can tell you. Were pulling in every single person we can from both scenes to submit reports so we can try to rebuild what happened. But theres precious little to work with right now. And two more banks were hit on the same days, so our agents are worn thin.”
“Two more banks?” Ty asked, pulling up short. “Thats not weird at all.”
“Yes, thank you, Kojak, weve already connected the dots on that one.”
“If the bombs are being set solely as distractions so banks can be robbed, then why am I being considered a target?” Ty posed. “Because youre you—youre always a target.”