Touch & Geaux (Cut & Run 7)

“There isn’t a part of you that you haven’t sold for one thing or another,” Zane snarled. He advanced on Ty, giving an almost manic laugh. Ty stood his ground, merely cocking his head as Zane got in his face. “I’ve spent half my adult life with whores. You’re just better at your job than the others were.”

“You’re drunk, Zane,” Ty finally managed to say. The blood had drained from his face, but he was standing straight and tall. “Keep your mouth shut before you say something I won’t forgive.”

Zane took one more step, trying to crowd him into retreating toward the wall or the bed. But Ty still stood his ground. “God forbid you refuse an order, Ty. God forbid you choose something you love over being told what to do.”

Ty rolled his shoulders and met Zane’s words with a stony face. The only thing Zane wanted to see in Ty’s eyes was pain. He wanted to hit him where it would hurt like nothing else, and punching him or tossing him around wouldn’t hurt someone like Ty. Sticks and stones could break his bones . . .

Words were what hit Ty hardest.

Zane closed his eyes. It was hard to fight the urge to jab at that soft spot with the whiskey flowing through him. He moved away and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus Christ, Ty, I thought I was going to marry you. Did you know that? I’ve been trying to decide how to ask you for months! I was trying to f**king ask you when Nick f**king O’Flaherty called you for help! You just had to answer the f**king phone!”

Ty’s façade finally broke. His lips parted, but Zane didn’t let him speak.

“I told my mother to f**k off for you! I took off Becky’s ring and put it away for you, you son of a bitch! And all you were doing was your job!”

“You know that’s not true!”

“You were just following orders,” Zane grumbled. He swayed as he took a careless step back, tired of trying to intimidate Ty into backing down. “Everything I know about you is based on lies. You’re a caricature. Just a good little soldier.”

Ty’s voice broke. “You really believe that?”

Zane waved a hand at him. The warmth of the whiskey churned through him, leaving a cold outer shell that nothing would penetrate. “You make yourself whatever you need to be to get the job done, and then you move on to the next.”

Ty’s eyes flashed. “Bullshit.”

“You made yourself perfect for me. But that’s not the real you either, is it? I bet you don’t even know who the real you is anymore.”

Ty didn’t move, but his breaths were harsh in the silence. Through the haze of anger, Zane could see the life seeping out of Ty’s eyes, turning them hard and flat. A part of Zane screamed for him to stop—stop talking, stop being angry, stop going down this path. There was no coming back from this. But the part of Zane that was so hurt by Ty’s betrayal, the part that had continued to drink downstairs, that couldn’t get over the pain and anger, forced him to keep going.

He took a step toward Ty and jabbed a finger at his chest. “When this mess is settled and we get back to Baltimore? We’re over. You and I. Done.”

Ty grabbed his hand and shoved it away. “Right, Zane, that’s great. Why wait until you’re sober, right?”

Zane shoved him. “We’re done!”

Ty slammed both forearms against Zane’s arm and twisted, forcing Zane to contort with a howl of pain. Ty spun him and shoved him face first into the mattress. Furious, Zane flicked a wrist and one of his knives deployed. It nicked Ty, who cried out and let Zane go.

“Son of a bitch!” Ty shouted.

Zane rolled to his back and kicked at Ty’s chest, sending him staggering as Zane stood.

“I’m trying not to hurt you, Garrett!” Ty shouted. He wiped blood from the cut on his forearm.

“Fuck that.”

Zane grabbed for him, but Ty easily avoided his hand with a slap of one palm against Zane’s forearm. Zane rounded with the other hand and Ty repeated the move, not dodging but merely redirecting the force of Zane’s swings.

“Russian sambo, right?” Zane sneered as they circled each other. “Another secret I’ll probably never have explained.”

“Add that to the list, right behind sobriety.”

Zane lunged and Ty went into a modified kick flip, only instead of kicking out, he rolled over Zane’s back to land behind him. Zane shoved his shoulder back, catching Ty in the side and flinging him onto the bed. The springs complained and the headboard banged against the wall.

Zane climbed on top of him and grabbed both of Ty’s wrists, holding him down before Ty had a chance to recover. Ty bucked under him, but he couldn’t fight Zane’s weight in that position, not unless he meant to do real harm. And if there was one thing Zane knew about Ty, it was that he would let himself be beaten to a pulp before he truly hurt Zane.

Zane could feel Ty’s heart pounding, his breaths growing more difficult, his hard muscles working to free himself. Zane pressed down to keep him from getting loose and kissed him, hard and messy, forcing his tongue into Ty’s mouth and not giving him a chance to say otherwise.

Ty fought his grip, bucking his hips. Zane was growing harder with every struggle. Just like the first time they’d fought in an alley in New York City and then f**ked all night long, the violence fueled him. He thrust down, grinding his c**k against Ty. Ty moaned into his mouth, but he still tried to pull his hands from Zane’s grasp.

Zane let go of one wrist and grabbed a handful of Ty’s hair instead, yanked Ty’s head to the side, and bit at his neck. He let Ty’s other wrist go and reached for his shirt, ripping it at the neck so he could taste the sweat along Ty’s collarbone.

Ty’s breathing was harsh and labored. He twisted, and his forearm caught Zane in the cheek. Zane grabbed his hand and yanked Ty’s arm across his body, shoving it to the bed and pinning him. Ty tried to twist out of it, but Zane was too heavy.

“Asshole!” Ty snarled.

“I know you can throw me off,” Zane grunted. “Go ahead, Ty. Do it.”

Ty’s eyes narrowed. His breaths were gusting across Zane’s face. He didn’t make a move to break Zane’s grip, though.

Zane released his hand to see if Ty would struggle more. When he felt Ty’s body relaxing under him, he kissed him again, pushing himself between Ty’s legs, shoving his tongue between those sinful lips. He bit at Ty’s lower lip. Bit hard.

Ty’s fingers dragged down his shoulder and he let Ty’s lip go. He thrust again, his c**k growing painfully hard inside his jeans. He reached between their bodies to loosen his belt and pull the zipper, then pushed his jeans and boxers down.