Divide & Conquer Read online

  Ty looked at his superior for a split-second of indecision, knowing full well he had absolutely no idea what he’d been asked. “I think it’s a shit idea,” he finally answered confidently.

  “Care to expound on that?” McCoy asked him wryly.

  “Not really,” Ty answered, his voice not quite as steady.

  “Okay, at least we’re all in agreement on that one,” McCoy replied as he took a piece of paper that probably outlined another PR proposal and tossed it over his shoulder.

  Ty slowly let out the breath he’d been holding and began tapping a response to Zane.

  Fuck you zane. Fuck you. So much.

  The answer came back quickly. Zane had to have been sitting there waiting.

  I’ll get you a salami sandwich for dinner. With extra mayo.

  Ty looked up and around the table, trying desperately to concentrate on what they were saying as he jabbed at the keys of his phone to respond. Zane’s attempts at seductive innuendo were funnier than his jokes.

  All Ill get from you is fired.

  If you go for an interview at a rubber stamp company, try to make a good impression.

  Ty fought not to roll his eyes as he looked up from the phone he was still trying to hide in his lap. He refused to let one of Zane’s bad puns have the last word.

  He had to sit for a moment, searching his store of bad jokes for an appropriate answer. He hated to sink to Zane’s level, but you had to fight pun with pun….

  He looked up and took the next five minutes to answer questions and try to at least appear involved in the meeting. The idea about the FBI softball team and setting up tournaments with other city and state agency teams that would be open to the public seemed to be taking root. And Ty had become the focus of the planning, so he had to pay attention.

  Ty liked the plan, actually. He didn’t know if it would work, but it was never a bad thing to put a human face on the big bad blue line every once in a while. A downside, as he pointed out, was that they might get backlash if too many people wondered why cops and ambulance drivers were playing softball while the city was being ransacked. But hell, they were already taking heat, so it couldn’t hurt.

  Ty jotted down a few notes, people he’d need to contact within other agencies to see if they could set something up, city fields and scheduling and things that he really didn’t have time to deal with but would anyway. Then the conversation moved on, and Ty leaned back in his chair.

  He stared at McCoy listlessly as his mind began to wander again. He tapped out his response to Zane slowly, trying to get the message out and pay attention at the same time.

  If a hunter can shoot a deer with either hand does that make him bambidextrous?

  Have you seen eagles catch their prey? They’re really talonted.

  Ty closed his eyes. The puns were too much. They were just too stupid for his brain to deal with at the end of a long day. He decided to raise the white flag and live to think another day, so he eased back in his chair and slowly punched in the last message.

  You win. Ill do anything please make it stop.

  It took a minute, but Zane’s answer finally popped up.

  Promise you’ll scream for me tonight.

  Ty stared at the phone for just a moment too long. When he cleared his throat and looked up, McCoy was watching him expectantly.

  Ty smiled at him widely, the smile that said he knew he’d been caught and wasn’t McCoy glad he was so good at his job so he didn’t have to punish him?

  “Care to share?” McCoy asked drily.

  Ty looked around at the other people around the table and sighed heavily. Perrimore reached into his lap and grabbed the phone from him. Ty didn’t try to resist; that would just have made them even more curious. He’d never been more thankful that he rarely put real names into his contacts list, though.

  Perrimore read the last message from Zane out loud, eyebrows raised. “Who’s Lone Star?” he asked with a grin as he looked at the name Ty had stored in his phone. “And does she carry a whip?”

  “Everyone get out before my eyeballs explode,” McCoy ordered as he sat rubbing his temples with the heels of his hands.

  Ty snatched his phone from Perrimore and whapped him in the head as they stood to leave. Alston trailed behind them, laughing the entire way.

  ZANE looked up from the files he was stacking when he heard Ty’s voice, low and wry and borderline aggrieved. A smile pulled at Zane’s lips. There hadn’t been a reply to his last message of a little less than ten minutes ago.

  “Hey, Garrett, have you met Grady’s latest fling? She sounds like a real piece of work,” Alston said as they arrived, chuckling. “Probably has the key to his handcuffs pierced through her tongue.”

  That certainly wasn’t what Zane expected to hear when they came back from the meeting. So that probably meant Ty had been caught. He didn’t appear to have that “just outed by his co-workers” look about him, though, and Zane knew Ty nicknamed all his phone contacts, so he was relatively certain they were okay.

  “Getting texts at work again, partner?” Zane drawled as he looked over to see Ty.

  “Well, you know my type,” Ty responded with a saccharine smile as he passed Zane’s desk. “No self-control and loads of mental issues.” He did sound exasperated, though.

  “That’s never seemed to bother you,” Zane answered as he stood up and lifted his suit jacket off the back of his chair.

  Alston laughed and took off with a wave, not bothering to stick around to hear the banter the whole team had become used to. Clancy and Lassiter had departed half an hour ago, and Zane had seen Perrimore detour toward the elevators as the group came back from the meeting. So once Alston disappeared down the hall, it was just Zane and Ty as Ty locked up his desk drawers.

  Ty glanced up at him darkly, and Zane grinned. Oh, he was so going to pay for his mischief tonight. The look in Ty’s eyes promised as much.

  Ty looked around the nearly empty floor as he moved closer to Zane. He held his phone in his hand, overcoat draped over his arm. He stepped closer to Zane, his knuckles brushing against Zane’s stomach as he held the coat between them.

  “Me scream for you, huh?” he asked in a low voice, his nearly green eyes raking across Zane’s features.

  “Since you can’t take the punishment,” Zane said, feeling himself warm a little under Ty’s scrutiny.

  “One more, Garrett,” Ty warned as he raised one finger. “One more and we’ll see who can go the longest in a cold bed.”

  Zane frowned and huffed quietly. “Fine. You, screaming,” he reminded. “I did offer to bring you dinner.”

  “Dinner later. My house. Bring clothes for the weekend, ’cause you won’t be making it home.” Ty didn’t say another word, just turned and headed for the elevator at a stroll, shrugging into his overcoat as he went.

  Zane watched him go, enjoying the sight. “Score,” he said under his breath before he grabbed his phone and keys and hurried to follow.

  Chapter Two

  IT TOOK skill to juggle a small duffel bag, a suit jacket, a large sack of hot food, and a key, especially when standing on a small concrete stoop. But Zane succeeded and pushed the door open with his foot.

  “No friendly fire, please,” he called out as he crossed the threshold.

  The main floor was silent and somewhat dark. Only one light was on downstairs, in the kitchen at the back of Ty’s row house. Light streamed down from the upstairs, though, and Zane could hear Ty up there, talking with someone.

  “Hold on!” Ty shouted. Then his voice dropped back to a low murmur.

  Zane kicked the door shut behind him and flipped on a light switch with his elbow. He walked through the narrow living room and tiny dining area beside the stairs to the kitchen bar, where he dropped his burdens. Hot food on the counter, bag next to it by the wall, suit jacket on the back of a chair, keys in a pocket. Wondering idly who Ty was talking to, Zane moved around the bar into the kitchen to pull plates and glasses out of the ca
binet.

  He heard Ty’s heavy footsteps on the stairs behind him. Not a good sign. The only time he could ever hear Ty moving was when Ty sulked and threw his weight around. Otherwise, Ty was scarily silent.

  “No, that’ll be just fine,” Ty was saying as he came down the stairs, his voice a slightly more professional one than he normally utilized on the phone. “Thank you, sir, we’ll be in touch,” he said quickly. Then he snapped his phone shut as he reached the bottom step. He spread his arms wide and gave Zane an incredulous look. “What, no blinking neon sex sign to alert the neighbors? Incriminating videos to send to my mother?”

  Zane glanced at him sideways as he pulled toasted deli sandwiches and sides out of the bag. “You’ve gotten caught doing a hell of a lot worse than getting a text message in a meeting,” he answered mildly.

  “I’ll have to stop calling you Lone Star out loud,” Ty grumbled as he tossed his phone over his shoulder into the living room. It landed on the couch with a single bounce. “What’s for dinner?”

  Zane didn’t try to hide his smile. Ty sulking could be pretty entertaining if you didn’t let him lay a guilt trip on you. “Italian subs. I promised you salami.”

  “Are they hot?” Ty asked as he rounded the counter and came up to stand beside Zane, pulling the bag of food toward him.

  “Yes, dear,” Zane placated. “I had them double wrap them in foil.”

  Ty reached out sideways, throwing his arm against Zane’s chest and grabbing him by the shirt front. He shoved him backward until Zane hit the refrigerator, then held him pinned there with his forearm as a dozen or so glass bottles within the refrigerator clanked together noisily.

  “So they’ll stay warm for a while,” Ty said, close enough to Zane that his words were breaths against Zane’s lips.

  For a wild few seconds, Zane could hardly believe he’d let Ty catch him off guard. Then he caught Ty’s familiar scent and the heat of his skin, and the lust that had simmered since the showers that morning started perking toward a boil. “Yeah,” he whispered, pulse thrumming as he set his hands at Ty’s hips.

  The pressure of Ty’s arm lessened as he moved his hand across Zane’s chest, sliding his palm instead against the side of Zane’s neck and gripping him tightly as he kissed him.

  It was easy to sag against Ty to try to get closer. Zane wanted those kisses, and he wanted Ty to manhandle him. As incredibly seductive as Ty had been during the undercover case that had ended a couple of weeks ago, playing at being an outwardly docile trophy husband on a cruise ship and taking a devoted ride on the submissive side, Zane couldn’t help but crave having Ty take control. It was fucking hot, and Ty did it so well. He moaned into Ty’s mouth just thinking about it.

  This was why he’d needled Ty all afternoon. It worked almost every time: get Ty just a little annoyed with him and plant a few suggestive comments to give him an outlet.

  Ty was still kissing him when he reached up to pull at the knot of Zane’s tie. “I can’t believe you didn’t even crack a smile,” he mumbled against Zane’s lips. “Babooms, man. That shit’s funny.”

  Zane let out a breathless laugh. “Years of practice,” he muttered as he chased Ty’s lips with his own.

  Ty roughly yanked the tie off, tossing it over his shoulder, then reached for Zane’s dress shirt. “You’ve been practicing the wrong things,” he growled as he pulled hard. Zane heard material rip, and several buttons went flying. Ty didn’t seem to care. And it just made Zane’s pants fit tighter.

  “What should I be practicing?” he goaded as he leaned to nip at Ty’s earlobe.

  Ty shoved him back against the appliance, and the contents rocked inside it again. Something toppled over and clattered.

  Then Ty yanked him forward again, into the narrow kitchen. He hooked his foot behind Zane’s leg and practically tackled him, sending them both to the floor. Ty used his weight to pin Zane to the bare hardwood as Zane gasped for air. He had Zane’s wrists in his hands and was kissing him again, right there in the middle of the floor, and Zane could only whisper Ty’s name whenever their lips parted.

  Zane’s fingers splayed as Ty held his wrists against whatever force Zane tried to bring to bear, but he was well and truly caught. He whimpered against Ty’s lips, wordlessly begging for more as he pushed his hips against his lover’s.

  He could tell Ty’d had a plan when he’d started this, perhaps one devised to torture Zane just a little—well, hell, maybe a lot—at first. But now Ty seemed to have lost the more controlled feeling to him. He loosened his hands from around Zane’s wrists and moved one to Zane’s body to push the remains of his shirt aside and dip under his belt, sliding his rough fingers against Zane’s sensitive skin. Zane groaned happily and shifted under Ty’s touch, and he reached for his belt buckle to loosen it.

  Ty pushed up to give both their hands room to move, helping him with the belt as he continued to hold Zane’s other wrist against the ground.

  “Fuck, Zane,” he grumbled, finally letting Zane’s other hand go and pushing himself to kneel over Zane’s thighs. “Why are you always wearing so many clothes?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Zane muttered as he unfastened his pants and folded over the placket. “Am I supposed to strip down anytime I walk in now?” he asked as he sat up enough to pull the ruined dress shirt and thin undershirt over his head and toss them aside. “Or maybe I’m just waiting for you to tell me what to do about it,” he prodded as he leaned back on his elbows, hoping it would push Ty back into action. Zane was hard and visibly straining his briefs. Ty in charge did that to him really damn quickly.

  “With your track record, you’ll come in playing strippergram and I’ll be in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner or something,” Ty grumbled. He leaned closer to Zane, putting his hands on the floor beside Zane’s hips. “Shut up,” he added almost as an afterthought, his lips moving just inches away from Zane’s. He was on his hands and knees again, still fully clothed even after bitching about Zane’s unsatisfactory state of undress, and he looked down at Zane with narrowed eyes.

  Zane looked at him innocently. “What? Do I have to come up with some more puns?”

  “You really have no concept of how close you are to not getting fucked, do you?” Ty asked darkly. Zane shut his mouth and watched Ty closely for clues. He didn’t think he’d pushed too much, but he could have miscalculated. “That’s what I thought,” Ty growled before roughly kissing Zane again, forcing him flat on the floor, actually sliding him on the hardwood with the force and barely giving him the chance to breathe as he practically devoured him.

  Something inside Zane gave a pitifully grateful cry of thanks as he collapsed under Ty’s weight, not even caring that his shoulders and skull hit the floor hard. He was dizzy already, and all his nerve endings sparked whenever Ty touched him.

  Zane craved this. He needed it, like he needed air.

  His reaction only spurred Ty on. Rough hands roamed over Zane’s body. Hips ground down against him. Teeth scraped against Zane’s lips and tongue and cheek and chin and neck. The day’s worth of stubble on Ty’s face was almost painful against Zane’s skin, but Ty so rarely did this to him that Zane wasn’t about to object. He wanted to be overwhelmed; it was a hell of a ride when Ty got it in his head to really drive them to another level.

  Zane shuddered as it occurred to him that it really didn’t seem like just sex anymore. It was more, more passionate, more emotional, more energizing, more draining… at that moment, he wasn’t sure it had ever been just sex between them. He knew Ty loved him, and sometimes he could feel how badly Ty wanted him. Zane moaned and clutched at Ty. “Please,” he breathed.

  Ty pushed away from him and quickly yanked his T-shirt over his head, revealing the impressive display of muscles Zane had become so familiar with. He tossed the shirt aside as he laid himself back out over Zane and kissed him hungrily, their bare skin catching and pulling as Ty moved.

  Zane wrapped his arms around Ty, dragging his fingers down along hi
s spine before spreading his hands and pressing them flat to slide them into the back of Ty’s sweatpants. Ty’s hand found its way into Zane’s hair, one of Ty’s favorite handles when he wanted Zane to stay where he put him. His tongue lapped at Zane’s, the kiss forceful and overpowering as Zane felt Ty’s muscles tense and flex against him. Feeling that remarkable, unbridled power against his body sent another shudder of need through him, and he felt almost smothered by the heat of it.

  It was absolute heaven.

  “I meant to at least get us up the stairs,” Ty gasped with what was probably supposed to be sincerity as he used one hand to push at the sweatpants he wore.

  “Fuck me here,” Zane begged hoarsely.

  Ty’s sigh came out harsh. He was obviously arrested by the idea for a brief moment because he stopped moving. Then he bit at Zane’s lower lip, licking at it and delving into another breathless kiss. Zane could feel how hard Ty was as he rocked their hips together, could feel the arousal and need coursing through Ty’s tense body, like every ounce of him was coiled.

  Zane wanted to feel that inside him so badly he could barely stay still. It was like this more and more often, feeling like he just couldn’t breathe without Ty.

  Ty yanked his head away suddenly, as if he’d just heard Zane’s thoughts and was offended by them. “Get up,” he practically snarled.

  Zane gasped for breath and reached out for help. Ty was pushing himself up almost immediately, and he reached down to grip Zane’s forearm and haul him to his feet. He pulled Zane to him and kissed him brutally as he used one hand to push Zane’s pants down over his hips. Zane moaned happily against Ty’s mouth as he toed out of his shoes and kicked his pants off while sliding a hand up to cup Ty’s face to encourage him. He had the distant thought that he’d done an awesome job of planning this for a Friday. He was going to be scratched, bruised, and whisker-burned tomorrow.

  Zane didn’t give a shit. He tried to pull Ty closer as he gave under the onslaught of Ty’s mouth.