Now, he was no longer worried that Zane had been taken. Even blind, Zane would have made a mess if someone had attacked him. That meant hed left without considering that Ty might freak the f**k out when he found him gone.
And that was possibly worst of all, that after all the crap hed put up with in the last week, all of himself hed given and taken, he didnt even warrant a spare thought or simple note before Zane went skipping out the door.
He steamed and stewed another ten minutes and was just about to go out and do something when he heard voices outside the door and then fumbling at the lock.
When the door swung open, Ty stood just off to the side of the door, his gun drawn as he greeted whoever was coming in. “Jesus!” Special Agent Fred Perrimore swore as he dropped to one knee, one hand going for his gun, his other raised behind him to stop whoever was behind him from crossing the threshold.
“What is it?”
Zane.
“Give me one good reason not to shoot you,” Ty growled dangerously to Perrimore. Perrimores eyes went big, wide, and white, standing out against his black skin, and he looked over his shoulder and up at Zane, who was frowning. Perrimore returned his eyes to Ty, hands out in front of him in a conciliatory gesture. “Because I run interference with BPD?” he tried.
Ty narrowed his eyes and lowered his gun, holstering it slowly. “Good answer,” he offered with a nod. His eyes moved to Zane. “Where the f**k have you been?”
Zane raised an eyebrow, uncannily looking right at him even though his eyes were unfocused. He plucked at the sweaty T-shirt visible under his casual winter jacket. “Freddy took me to the gym.”
“Whats wrong, Perrimore? You cant leave a damn note?” Ty growled. Perrimore stood up and edged back out the door. “Garrett didnt mention anything about needing to leave a note,” he ventured, looking between the two partners.
“I was only gone two hours, and youre supposed to be at work,” Zane pointed out.
“Yeah, well, Im not.”
“Its not like I could have gotten anywhere on my own.” “Has it escaped your attention that there may be someone trying to kill you?” Ty asked through gritted teeth. Zanes eyes narrowed in what would have been a glare if he could have aimed it. He reached out and touched Perrimores arm. “Thanks for the ride.”
Perrimore shifted his weight nervously. “Yeah, Garrett, sure thing.” He glanced at Ty, who snarled at him wordlessly. “Yeah, Ill just be going, then,” Perrimore muttered as he turned and made his retreat.
Zane reached out to touch the door jamb and walked inside, shifting to close the door behind him. He tipped his head, listening for something. Ty stood glaring at him, knowing he should get control of his temper but truly not willing to do it. Hed reached the end of his rope.
“Are you going to say something or just glower at me?” Zane asked. “I went out for a couple hours. I was with a friend, a trained agent who carries a gun. The only way Id have been safer would have been to be with you.”
Ty pressed his lips tightly together and closed his eyes, but it wasnt helping. “I dont care where you go or who youre with. Im not your goddamned babysitter,” he said tightly. “But youve got to take this situation seriously! Youve got to be where you say youre going to be when you say youre going to be there! Just because you cant f**king see doesnt mean the rest of the world has come to a halt too!”
“Take the situation seriously,” Zane repeated flatly.
“We only caught one of them today, did you know that?” “Take it f**king seriously?”
“Theres no telling where the others are or who theyre after!”
Ty kept ranting over him, both of them talking at each other and not actually hearing what the other was saying. Finally Zane shouted above Tys voice.
“Did you actually hear what bullshit just came out of your mouth? Believe me, I know really damn well how the world is going on without me!”
“And it doesnt matter that Ive been bending over backward trying to help you,” Ty said angrily. “Doesnt matter that you disappearing would scare the shit out of me?”
Zane grimaced and rubbed at his temple. “Yes, of course it matters, but—” “But what you want is more important,” Ty finished in disgust. Zane shook his head, and Ty glared at him as he felt the weight of the week crashing down on him. “You know what, Zane? Im done,” he said with a wave of his hand. “You want to reconnect with the f**king world, strike out on your own for independence, go do it. But youre gonna do it without me,” he grunted as he grabbed up his jacket from the back of the couch and stalked toward the door.
“What the hell crawled up your ass and died? You are totally overreacting!” Zane protested as he reached out, catching Tys arm by blind luck.
Ty turned and lashed out, catching him right under the chin. Totally surprised, Zane was knocked off balance, and he collapsed backward against the bookshelves, hitting them hard enough to send several books thunking to the floor as he fell with a hard grunt to the thin carpet.
Ty turned to head for the door, shaking his hand and grumbling. “Ty,” Zane said weakly.
“Go to hell,” Ty responded without turning around. He grabbed at the doorknob and yanked the front door open.
“Ty,” Zane repeated, a real tinge of desperation in his voice. “I think I can see something.” Ty stopped and turned to look at him, frowning. Zanes face was set in a pained wince. He pressed the heel of one hand to his temple as he blinked over and over. Ty cocked his head and watched him, waiting. When Zane looked up, one of his eyes was totally bloodshot, more red than white. He kept blinking like he was facing a bright light.
“Son of a bitch,” Ty muttered as he slammed the door shut and stalked past Zane toward the kitchen.
“Get the f**k back over here, you ass**le,” Zane ground out. “That f**king hurt!” “Im calling the doctor,” Ty snapped back at him. He snatched up the phone and jabbed at the numbers angrily. Zane didnt growl back; he just held his head in his hands, looking miserable. Ty warred with the instinct to protect that had been in overdrive for a week now and the urge to kick him while he wallowed down there. He wouldnt have placed bets on which instinct would win out.
After some terse snapping, he got one of the doctors on the line, turned back to Zane, and poked him with the end of the phone. “Doctor wants to talk to you,” he said in a low voice.
“Bastard,” Zane muttered from where he sat on the floor, leaning back against the shelves, covering his eyes with one hand and bracing that arm on his propped-up knee. He fumbled for the receiver. “Yeah,” he said into the phone. After a moment he added, “Yeah. Ive had a hell of a headache all day, until I went to the gym.”