Cut And Run - Divide And Conquer Part 36

By Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

"WE SHOULDbe getting close," Zane said as the cab cut through the architectural jungle of downtown. "How do you want to play it? Go in soft or heavy? Good cop, bad cop? Shoot first and ask questions later?" Ty asked with a hint of sarcastic amus.e.m.e.nt.

Zane shrugged. He slid his hand into his new jacket out of long habit to check his weapon. "Are you expecting trouble?" "From this guy? Almost certainly," Ty confirmed. "Im also expecting him to not actually be at this address. If he was this easy to find, he wouldnt be Batman."

"If hes there, it would be novel for it to go so smoothly," Zane agreed, pulling on his gloves as the cab came to a stop in front of an old building converted into condos.

Ty checked his gun and got out as Zane paid the driver, who didnt even blink at the weapons, and he clucked his tongue, trying his best not to smile as Zane joined him. Tyd been told not long ago that he shouldnt enjoy the almost-getting-killed part of his job as much as he did. Zane didnt know who had said it, but Ty had been making a concerted effort ever since to hide his unholy glee during melees. It was still pretty clear to Zane, though.

He surveyed the light traffic pa.s.sing by on the side street. It was evening, and there werent many people out and about. Hopefully that would work in their favor.

"Ready?" he asked Ty. Ty glanced up and down the street, then nodded and stepped up to the double gla.s.s doors of the building. They would have to be buzzed in, which never helped the element of surprise. Ty stared at the panel for a moment, obviously contemplating how to go about it. He glanced back at Zane and shrugged one shoulder, then pushed the number theyd been given.

After a short pause, the small speaker clicked. "h.e.l.lo?" "Hey, Jimbo!" Ty practically shouted, actually startling Zane. Tys words slurred as he leaned toward the speaker. "Dude. You should not have left early tonight."

There was a short pause. "I think you have the wrong apartment." "Come on, man, dont be like that! I swear I didnt know you were into her! I left my good pants on your couch. If I go in to work hungover in my boxers again, theyll can me for sure," Ty whined. "Four strikes and youre out, brother!" He bit his lip to keep from laughing as he turned his head away from the speaker box. Zane grinned and shook his head, covering his mouth and reminding himself that they were trained federal agents. Professionals. In theory.

"Youve got the wrong apartment. Theres no Jimbo here." "Oh," Ty drew out. "s.h.i.+t, man, Im sorry! Didnt mean to go buzzing you so early in the morning." The last glance at his watch had told Zane it was nearing seven in the evening. "But hey, do you know Jimmy, man? Could you grab my pants for me?"

There was a longer pause, long enough that Zane thought the man on the other end of the speaker had abandoned the conversation. But then the box clicked again.

"Theres no Jimmy here. Buzz somebody else." The words ended with some ring of finality. Ty clucked his tongue again and shrugged at Zane. "Worth a try," he told his partner with a smirk. He reached out and hit another b.u.t.ton. A moment later a woman answered. "Delivery," Ty chirped.

"I didnt order anything," she said brusquely, and that was that. Four more tries later-one no answer, two immediate denials, and a bizarre conversation with a stoner about the phases of the moon during which Ty had way too much to offer, in Zanes opinion-Ty huffed in frustration.

"How many more are you going to try?" Zane asked. They didnt really have the time to call the field office and ask for a warrant. Not to mention that would go over really well with Burns, who obviously wanted them to keep this as low as it could go. Was this the kind of thing that Ty was always doing for Burns?

Ty glanced at him stubbornly and pushed a b.u.t.ton at random. Zane rolled his eyes. As soon as there was an answer, he stepped closer to the speaker and said, "Federal agents, maam."

"Nice try, a.s.shole," the woman said smugly, and then the speaker box clicked off.

Ty growled dangerously. "I hate this town," he muttered as he took his gun out from under his coat.

Zane straightened in mild alarm. "What are you doing?" Ty yanked a glove off one hand and wrapped it around the b.u.t.t of his gun, then turned smoothly and rammed the handle into the gla.s.s door. The mottled gla.s.s cracked and shattered noisily, but there was mesh wire embedded inside it that kept it from falling in. Ty used the b.u.t.t of his gun to clear out the window, ripping through the wire, raining pieces all over the sidewalk and Tys feet. He reached through the iron bars and pushed the handle, opening the door and holding it open for Zane with a gallant wave of his hand.

"Why, thank you, sir," Zane drawled as he walked through the mess, already thinking of ways to make sure Ty would be the one writing up the report for this trip.

"a.s.sholes," Ty muttered as he looked up at the floor display above the elevators. He stopped in front of the fire alarm and looked at it for just a moment too long for Zanes comfort. Zane cleared his throat pointedly.

Ty looked at him almost guiltily and then followed him toward the stairwell. Zane didnt know if there was any sort of alarm on the door, but they needed to move a little more quickly regardless.

The condo they had targeted was on the second floor, not nearly a long enough hike up the steps to pacify Tys annoyance, which manifested in muttering. Zane pushed past him and started checking doors until they found the number theyd been provided. He glanced at his partner, knocked on the door, and listened to what sounded like a rush of feet that immediately retreated. Zane frowned and reached out to rap on the door again, but someone approached from the other side and stopped. Zane figured the man was looking out the peephole, so he held up his badge. Behind him, Ty did the same. "Federal agents."

A bolt slid and the door opened just a bit, blocked by the chain, and a slim, wholly average-looking man peered out.

"Cameron Jacobs? Im Special Agent Zane Garrett, and this is Special Agent Ty Grady. Were looking for Julian Cross." C AMERON stared through the four-inch gap as he studied the two tall, capable-looking men holding out badges that looked pretty official. They could be federal agents. Or not. With Julians past business, there honestly was no telling who might come looking for him. It was the "or not" that was scaring Cameron right now, and his hand gripped the doorjamb so tightly that it hurt. "I dont know who that is."

"Perhaps you know him better as Julian Bailey?" the man called Special Agent Grady said dryly. "Or Sir? Maybe even Boss?" Cameron frowned as he shook his head. Surely federal agents would be nicer than this. He looked them up and down. And better dressed. "Im sorry, but you have the wrong...." He frowned harder as he remembered the last time he had said those words, maybe fifteen minutes ago. "Was that you on the speaker?" he asked in outrage.

The man who had introduced them smiled slowly. To Cameron, it was like a dangerous animal showing its teeth. He frowned, looking over the mans windblown, slightly curly hair, piercing eyes with crows feet at the corners, and a crooked nose that had probably been broken at least twice. The smile was probably meant to put him at ease.

Special Agent Grady flipped over the badge hed been holding and pulled aside his jacket to slide it into an inner pocket. The move revealed a fairly large weapon in a holster under his arm. Whether he did it on purpose didnt really matter; his point was made.

"Would you mind opening the door so we can have a word, Mr. Jacobs?" Special Agent Garrett asked in a businesslike tone. "Or you can just point us toward Cross and well be out of your hair."

"I do mind," Cameron objected, his back straightening as he pulled his hand back to slam the door shut. Gradys hand shot out in a flash, stopping the door from closing. He stepped closer and lowered his head, as if he might be about to share a secret. Everything about him screamed military at Cameron, from his gruff tone to his quick reflexes to his impressive athletic build. "Do you have any idea how much trouble it is to fix a chain thats been ripped off a doorjamb?" Special Agent Grady asked calmly. "Or how much it hurts my shoulder to put it through a solid oak door?"

Cameron pushed hard against the door, and it made no difference at all. He glanced at Special Agent Garrett, who was taller, darker, and not offering any sympathy. This was not looking good. Not at all. So Cameron nodded jerkily and reached to unhook the chain, aware that Julian would read him the riot act for this.

Of course, Julian would yell at him for opening the door in the first place. But only a little bit. Chain undone, Cameron took several steps back and gathered himself to reach for his phone and Julians speed-dial emergency number as he watched his four calf-high white Westies charge the strangers entering the apartment.

Special Agent Grady moved in slowly, his body turned almost sideways as his eyes scanned the room. His hand was on his weapon. Cameron had seen Julian enter rooms in a similar fas.h.i.+on, and it set off even more warning bells. The man looked down at the four dogs and balked, side-stepping and gesturing for his partner to come in.

It was Camerons chance. Cameron reached into his pocket for his cell phone and fumbled with it, trying to be inconspicuous about it. He hoped that he managed to hit the key combination for the prewritten text he needed to send.

Special Agent Garrett shut the door gently, and the strangers moved steadily into Camerons condo. The more he watched the agents, the more they reminded him of Julian. They were on guard but confident. "I dont know who youre looking for. Theres no one else here."

"We know," Grady told him. He smiled and nodded to the pocket Cameron still had his hand stuffed into. "h.e.l.l be here soon, though. Take a load off, kid. It wont be so bad." He stretched out broad muscles and rolled his neck, the movement s.h.i.+fting his trench coat, revealing jeans and a specialty tee. Grady turned to look down at the yipping dogs in distaste, and then he looked up at his partner.

Special Agent Garrett tipped his head to one side before focusing on Cameron. From twelve feet away, his eyes appeared to be flat black, and Cameron felt like he was pinned in place.

"How do you know Mr. Cross, Mr. Jacobs?" he asked. His voice was calmer than Special Agent Gradys, more polite, if still a bit cool. Cameron pressed his lips together in a bid for silence. At least this was one of the possible scenarios Julian had outlined for him when they had set up the alert system. Despite Camerons protests, his dangerous lover had insisted hed rather come here to protect him and eliminate the problem than staying away in dubious safety.

Movement caught his eye, and Cameron glanced up to see one of Julians large orange cats sinuously padding around the screen that sectioned off the bedroom. It was Smith, followed closely by Wesson. The two very big cats stopped mid-stride upon seeing the strangers, and Cameron could have sworn he heard one of them growl.

"Now see, thats what Im talking about," the churlish agent said as he pointed at the cats. "Those are guard dogs, Zane. Pound for pound the most effective killing machine in the world."

"So you say, Meow Mix," Zane answered. He sounded like he was humoring his partner. Zane Garrett, Cameron remembered from the door. And Ty Grady, he reminded himself. Garrett & Grady. It sounded like some obnoxious mens clothing store. Zane pointed at Ty. "You keep your hands off the wildlife."

"Shove it, Garrett," Ty said with a huff. He moved around the couch and knelt several feet away from Smith and Wesson. He reached out his hand. "What are they, Maine c.o.o.ns?" he asked Cameron with what seemed like genuine interest.

Cameron watched as the man put himself well within range of a serious tangle with pain. He swallowed and glanced at the digital clock next to the television. It had been three minutes. "Yeah," he said quietly.

"Ty, I said keep your d.a.m.n hands to yourself," Zane snapped. "We dont have time for a field trip to the hospital if that cat decides it wants a taste of you."

Ty blithely ignored his partner, still holding out one hand and talking to Smith and Wesson in a low voice, a smile on his face. He turned and glanced over his shoulder at Zane. "If the big one didnt eat me, I think I can deal with two little ones."

Smith and Wesson sat side by side, watching him in the way only a cat could watch an inferior being. Cameron figured he himself looked like he was watching Ty like the man was an idiot. He also wondered what cat the man could possibly have tangled with that was bigger than Smith or Wesson.

Zane gave an aggrieved sigh and walked a little farther into the room, though Cameron noticed he kept both the front door and him in sight. "Were not going to bite, Mr. Jacobs," Zane said, trying to placate him, Cameron could tell. Zanes lips twitched. "No more than the cats, anyway."

"The last stranger who messed with them ended up with st.i.tches from temple to lip," Cameron mentioned to Ty. Ty merely made a clicking sound with his tongue, not moving as he continued to hold his hand out to the cats. Wesson began to move slowly, slinking toward him. "Come on, handsome," Ty crooned to the cat. Smith lowered his head, his tail twitching as he watched, but Wesson continued to move toward him. He sat and graciously allowed the man to rub one finger under his chin.

Camerons jaw dropped. Those stupid cats wouldnt even let him touch them, and hed been living with Julian for more than a year now. He swallowed on the feeling of dread. If this guy got ahold of Wesson and hurt him, Julian would maim him, and that would be a mess. A moment later, Ty had gathered the big cat into his arms and was standing again, holding him over his shoulder, rubbing his ear gently. He turned to grin at his partner. "Like playing the bagpipes," he joked about the large feline.

Cameron could hear Wesson purring from where he stood across the room.

Zane shook his head, clearly exasperated. "Make yourself at home, Ty. Want to check the fridge, see if theres any beer?" Ty snorted loudly at him and shook his head. He bent and set the cat down carefully, giving his ear a last twirl with one long finger before standing back up and brus.h.i.+ng at the cat hair on his shoulder, then looking at his watch. Meanwhile, Wesson wound his large body around the agents ankles, still purring to the point he was almost vibrating. Cameron had never seen anyone besides Julian handle either cat like that.

Ty bent to pick the cat up again, turning him upside down and holding him like a baby in his arms as he rubbed him under the chin. Camerons jaw dropped. "Come on, Zane, dont be scared of a little p.u.s.s.y," Ty told his partner with a sly grin. Zane circled one finger in the air, dismissing the... insult?

Camerons brows lifted about as far as they could go. "You two are supposed to be FBI agents?" he asked in disbelief. "And your guy is late," Ty commented as he nodded. He watched out the balcony doors for a long moment before he set the cat down and calmly reached into his trench to pull his weapon. He glanced at Zane with narrowed eyes, then nodded toward the door as he checked the gun in the same manner Cameron had seen Julian check his, with utter calm and competence. Zane pulled a gun out from under his brown leather jacket, handling it capably.

"Mr. Jacobs, will he come in firing, or will he be concerned for your safety?" Ty asked, without a hint of real worry that Cameron could detect. It seemed like both men were accustomed to the idea of imminent peril.

But they didnt know Julian. He was a whole different level of danger. "Dont worry about me," Cameron murmured. He shook his head and crouched, calling for the dogs. He gathered them and put them into their playpen in the far corner of the room. His gaze settled on Smith and Wesson. While the two cats tolerated him because Julian kicked them out of bed if they didnt, they didnt like him that much. Cameron wasnt too sure he could get them back into the bedroom without damage to himself. So theyd just have to take care of themselves.

Ty and Zane moved together in the middle of the living room as if drawn by magnets, putting their backs to each other, standing maybe four feet apart. Zane faced the door while Ty faced the balcony, synchronized like theyd been doing this a long time. The dogs began yipping plaintively, and Smith and Wesson both sat down in the opening to the bedroom, ready to enjoy the show.

Cameron c.o.c.ked his head, listening. He could hear nothing over the complaining of the dogs. The door burst open suddenly, kicked hard from the hallway, splintering the doorjamb. Julians gun was drawn already, trained on the two so-called federal agents. Zane was already facing him, gun up and pointed. Ty didnt turn to face Julian. He kept his gun trained on the silent balcony.

Julian moved into the room, large and hulking and practically livid. He pointed his gun at Zane, and the two men stood there aiming at each other, silent as they sized each other up. Cameron was struck by the strong resemblance between them.

"Julian Cross?" Zane finally asked evenly.

Julian answered by pulling back the hammer on his gun.

Cameron saw the trigger move. It was just a tap away from a bullet now. He swallowed hard and forced himself to keep his eyes open. But Zane didnt even blink.

"Were here on orders from Richard Burns, a.s.sistant director of the Criminal Investigations Branch of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, to call on your status as a registered federal informant," Zane rattled off efficiently, neither his weapon nor his voice wavering.

Camerons eyes widened in surprise as he saw Julians gun waver ever so slightly. "And we would appreciate it if youd put that gun down," Ty added without turning around. "And tell your buddy I dont appreciate the feeling of his crosshairs on my forehead," he added calmly.

Julians eyes darted between them and Cameron. "Are you okay?" he asked Cameron softly. "Yes," Cameron said, resisting the urge to run over to his lover. He was using Julian Baileys American accent, and Cameron remembered that Julian had told him that was a warning sign, that it meant he didnt know or didnt trust the people they were with. "They didnt touch me."

Julians black eyes moved back to pin the man in front of him. "Put your weapon down. Then we can talk."

"Im telling you right now, Cross, tell your buddy on the roof next door to stand down," Ty interrupted in a gruff voice.

"Put down your weapon and well discuss it," Julian repeated slowly. "Dont think I wont shoot your Irish a.s.s just cause Im a Fed," Ty growled. "We dont need you to be walking." Zanes gun was still trained on Julian. As far as Cameron could tell, he hadnt even twitched as Ty talked.

Even though Ty wasnt even looking at Julian, the threat still made Cameron s.h.i.+ver. Somehow they knew Julian wasnt American. Cameron had to swallow hard on a fresh wave of fear.

And Cameron didnt know how Ty knew someone else was out there at all. Cameron knew that it was Preston, Julians ever-present, forever-silent driver and cohort, which meant that if Ty even twitched hed be on the floor, likely not breathing, and Zane wouldnt be but a second behind. Cameron really didnt want corpses of federal agents in their apartment. "Julian, please," he asked plaintively.

Julian waited another breathless moment before slowly lowering his weapon. He eased the hammer down and then held it up sideways as proof that hed done so. He slid it carefully back into its hiding spot. "My man on the roof stays trained on your partner while you show me a badge," he bargained.

He held up his hand in a signal to Preston. Cameron looked between Julian and Zane as Zane moved the hand bracing his gun and slowly slid it into his jacket. He pulled out a leather wallet and tossed it to Julian.

Julian caught it deftly with one hand, flipping it over to look at the identification within. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at Zane darkly.

He made a "quit" motion with his hand toward the balcony. "You can tell Richard Burns to stick it," he finally said as he handed the wallet back.

Zane snorted as he pocketed the wallet and lowered his weapon somewhat. "If you know Burns, you know that wont help." Julians eyes darted between the two men. "Get out," he ordered. "Also wont help," Zane said, sliding his gun under his jacket. "Were here to escort you to DC. If we dont get you there, someone else will, and much less comfortably, I a.s.sure you."