Fish & Chips (Cut & Run 3)

Ty turned and put his back to the side of the desk, momentarily out of sight. But as they moved around the room, they would quickly catch sight of him. He peered around the corner and counted three men.

Armen was yanking at his tie in obvious displeasure. Maybe he hated wearing tuxedos as much as Ty did.

“It is stuffy,” Armen muttered to one of his bodyguards, and the man went over to the thermostat to adjust the temperature accordingly.

“You seem ill,” one of the men commented, but his accent was so thick Ty wasn"t quite sure if that was what he said or not. The thug began to walk around the sofa, bringing him alarmingly close to Ty"s hiding place. Ty ducked away, commando crawling behind the desk and peering around the other side. Armen sat on the side of his round bed, the side that didn"t look like the end of the bed, anyway, and he was facing away from Ty. One of the bodyguards had disappeared into the bathroom, and the other was facing away as well, apparently giving his boss some modicum of privacy. Ty took the chance and crawled across the floor to the bed, intending to slide under it before he remembered that the damn thing was on a solid pedestal. He resisted the urge to curse and hugged to the expensive carpet, rolling as close as he could to the side of the bed as he heard one of the three men begin to move around the stateroom.

The comforter almost covered him, but he was still just some dude sprawled on the floor if any of the men decided to walk around to that side of the bed.

He held his breath, waiting.

“I am overtired. Perhaps the expensive Scotch Mr. Porter shared does not agree with me,” Armen muttered finally. “All is well. Please leave me,” he ordered in the same monotone voice he"d always spoken in.

Ty frowned. Mr. Porter was Zane. He had shared his Scotch with Armen? Ty didn"t even try to ponder that one. He listened as the two men muttered obediently, and Ty counted to ten before he heard the door shut behind them.

He remained where he was, frowning heavily and breathing shallowly, straining his ears so he could hear Armen"s movements.

But the man wasn"t moving. He wasn"t even shifting around on the bed. Ty made a slow count of ten again; then he pushed himself up and raised his head over the bed. Armen was still sitting where he"d been, shoulders slumped, head down. As Ty watched, he raised his head and took in a deep, seemingly painful breath.

What the hell was wrong with him?

His breathing became more labored, and he pressed a hand to his chest just before his body seemed to collapse inward and he toppled forward to the floor. Ty shot up and slid over the bed before he thought better of it, landing next to Armen"s prone form on the other side of the bed.

“Armen?” Ty whispered as he put a hand to Armen"s neck.

The man merely gurgled in response.

Ty quickly rolled him over and stretched his arms above his head, taking note of how wrong his body felt. He was completely limp, devoid of any muscular control. Ty gripped his hand, and his fingers were icy cold to the touch. He blinked rapidly up at Ty, but then even the blinking stopped. There were no facial tics or movements, nothing to indicate the man was still alive. His eyes were so dilated that the normally coffee-colored irises were completely black. His entire body was soaked in sweat. Ty bent his head to listen and could hear faltering, rasping breaths. The pulse at his neck was thready, and even as he checked for it, Armen"s body began to twitch all over, the muscles jumping.

Ty certainly wasn"t an expert, but he knew poison when he saw it.

Syncope and paralysis, respiratory distress, dilation of the pupils, profuse perspiration. And one last stuttering breath before the body went completely still.

Ty winced and shook his head as he sat down hard and looked down at Armen"s body helplessly. Ty was familiar with poisons and silent ways of killing. He was almost certain he"d used this one himself a time or two. The culprit was probably a Calabar bean, a native of Africa. Half a bean would be lethal, but to act so quickly it had to have been several, ground up and slipped into something to hide the subtle taste.

Fear gripped him suddenly, so strong it nearly made him sick.

Armen had shared a glass of Scotch with Zane.

Ty left Armen where he"d fallen, knowing the man was past help.

He shot out the balcony door, barely thinking to close it behind him, and he didn"t take as much care as he probably should have as he stood on the railing of the balcony to Armen"s stateroom and swung himself around the partition. But he couldn"t afford to be careful when Zane might already be dying from the same poison that had killed Vartan Armen. It could be treated with atropine with varying success, but the best thing to do was vomit it up. Violently. He had to get to Zane now if he"d had as big a dose as Armen.

He might already be too late.

He landed on the floor of the balcony with a heavy thump, and he barged in through the balcony doors. Luckily they weren"t latched, or he would have merely gone through the glass to get inside.

“Ty!”

There was Zane, striding toward him, looking intent and upset, but breathing and not yet paralyzed. Ty didn"t think, he merely pounced on Zane and hugged him tightly as his heart pounded from fear and adrenaline. He closed his eyes and let himself just soak in the warmth and the scent of Zane"s body next to his. He"d been so panicked he"d almost unconsciously convinced himself he"d never be able to do this again. Zane"s arms were just as tight around him, and after a long moment, he realized Zane was actually talking to him.

“…was no way I could let you know to get out of there,” Zane was saying, lips moving against Ty"s ear and hair.

Ty pulled his head back and looked at Zane almost frantically.

“What? No, shut up—stop talking. Did you drink anything?”

“What? Drink anything? We all had drinks with dinner,” Zane said as he clasped Ty"s upper arms. “Why? You"re practically freaking out.”

“Did you drink your drink, Zane?” Ty nearly shouted, grabbing Zane in the same manner and shaking him violently.

“Jesus! No! What the f**k? I told you I wouldn"t drink anymore if I didn"t absolutely have to!” Zane exclaimed, hurt clear in his voice.

Ty took Zane"s face in his hands and shook his head, struck speechless with relief. He allowed a moment to calm himself before trying to explain, and finally he just came out with, “Armen"s dead.”

Zane"s confusion was clear, but he didn"t snap at Ty about it.

“How?” He stepped back enough to look Ty up and down. “You"re okay?”