“Wake up, darling, we’re wasting time here,” a voice said in the darkness.
It was the same name Ty called him sometimes, but it wasn’t the same word. There was no drawl to it, no affectionate smirk in the voice. It was British, said with sarcasm and disdain.
Zane forced his eyes open, wincing as light lanced through his brain. A blond man came into focus. He leaned over Zane, holding a penlight. He shined it in Zane’s eyes, and Zane groaned and turned his head away.
“Wakey wakey,” Liam crooned.
“Go to Hell,” Zane grunted.
“No need to be testy, Zane. I’m here to help you.”
Zane ignored the throbbing in the back of his head to glare at the man. “By bashing me in the head?”
“Nothing less would have stopped you from going back in that pub and making a huge mistake.”
Ty. Zane tried to sit up, but his hands and arms were tied down. He was stretched out on a concrete floor, trussed up with ropes around his ankles, knees, and wrists. Liam sat beside him on the ground. “What is this?” Zane growled.
“Merely precautionary,” Liam said. Zane was already tired of the way he talked, all dark threat laced with that cheerful British accent. “Hear me out, and then I’ll let you go.”
Zane didn’t trust that for a second, but as long as Liam was talking, Zane had a chance of slipping his ties and escaping.
“You see, I know Tyler Grady. Quite well, to be frank, and he’s a danger to you. To everyone, really, but we can’t all be perfect.”
“Tyler who?” Zane mumbled as he stared up at the ceiling.
“Oh, that’s sweet. Still protecting him even after what he’s done.”
Zane cut his eyes sideways.
“That’s right, Zane. I know what happened. I knew before you did. And I know more. Do you care to hear?”
“No.” He couldn’t stand the thought of hearing more of Ty’s sins, not from this source.
Liam leaned closer, casually resting his elbow on Zane’s chest so he could look down into his eyes. “It’s okay. I understand. Ty broke my heart too. It’s a small but spectacular club. Welcome.”
Zane licked his lips, trying to regulate his breathing, desperate to slow his heartbeat so the man wouldn’t feel it banging against his chest.
“It’s not really his fault, it’s just how Ty works. He’s easy to fall for when he’s got that mask up. He makes you love him because he knows that’s the easiest way to get what he wants from you. You trust him, you see something worthwhile, something vulnerable in him, and you think you can help. Six months later, he has all your secrets, and he’s gone.”
Zane was shaking his head as Liam spoke.
Liam reached to pop the button on his shirt. “You’re lucky your heart was merely broken.”
Zane’s eyes darted between Liam’s hand and his face, his mind whirring. Liam yanked another button loose, then another. He pulled his collar down to reveal two circular scars on his chest. Bullet wounds. He tapped one with a finger. “Courtesy of the love of your life.”
Zane stared at the scar.
“A .45 caliber MEUSOC pistol. Standard for Force Recon, you know. Back in the day.”
“You’re SAS?”
“I was. I see he’s told you the story.”
Zane was silent. This really was the man Ty had been talking about. The man he’d been involved with in the service, the man he’d shot. He was handsome and charismatic, exactly the type Ty would be drawn to. Zane could see that much. That, and he carried a gun.
Zane wanted to question him further, but doing so would reveal how much he already knew. He wanted Liam to keep talking.
“No matter. I’ve always said the past is the past for a reason, yeah? Although it does occasionally come back to bite you in the arse. Do you remember a man named Antonio de la Vega?” Liam asked, his blue eyes narrowing.
Zane’s breath caught. “Name’s familiar. Zorro, right?”
“Oh come now, Zane, don’t be coy with me. We’re all friends here. We can share.”
“Friends don’t tie friends up.”
“Oh, you’ve got the wrong sort of friends then,” Liam purred. He laughed, a surprisingly warm, pleasant sound. “I quite like you. You’re fun. Listen, Ty’s already called me once so he knows I have you. I’m not going to harm you, I promise. And I keep my promises, unlike some of us. But I need to lay some groundwork before I call him back, so do me a favor and indulge me. Antonio de la Vega?”
Zane gritted his teeth, but he supposed he didn’t have much to lose. “I heard he was dead.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. Nor is it news.”
Zane groaned. “I remember him. Head of the Vega cartel, out of the Republic of Colombia. Feeds into the larger set of Gulf cartels.”
“Excellent. He is indeed very dead. You were one of the FBI agents to infiltrate them. The last one left alive, to be exact. You lot almost took him down, from what I understand. Quite a nice body of work.” He paused to glance down the long line of Zane’s body.
“Eyes are up here,” Zane grunted.
Liam was smirking when he looked back at Zane’s face. “There’s a bit of a price on your head.” He paused, waiting for a response. When Zane merely stared at him, he nodded. “When that plane crashed with Antonio de la Vega in it, his brother took over. You remember his brother?”
Zane did. Antonio de la Vega had been smart and controlled, stingy and almost surgical with his use of violence. He’d lived by a certain code of loyalty and honor. He hadn’t been a bad man to work for, and illegalities aside, Zane had quite liked the man. He’d been saddened when he’d heard of his death. But the younger de la Vega was a different animal altogether. He had a temper. Zane nodded curtly.
“Well. He believes the FBI agent who helped destroy part of his operation is the very same agent who killed his brother. He’s out for blood.”
“I didn’t kill Antonio.”
“We know.”
“We? You went from SAS to being a cartel henchman?”
“No, darling, I went from SAS to NIA.”
Zane rested his aching head on the cold floor. It seemed that what Ty had told him was at least partially true. “NIA.”
“Your very own National Intelligence Agency.”
“I know what it f**king stands for. What are they doing involved with this?”