Fish & Chips (Cut & Run 3)

“Do you have any idea what we lost tonight?” Ty asked him in barely controlled anger.

Zane swept the mess of papers into the desk drawer before leaning both hands on the desk and looking at Ty, feeling exasperated.

“No. But whatever it was they hung you over a railing for, Ty, it wasn"t worth your life,” he said, trying to reason with him though he was growing more upset by his partner"s lack of control. It was wreaking havoc with his own, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He wasn"t feeling the buzz much anymore, and it was starting to affect him. “So forgive me if I"m a little less concerned about some information than about you standing here.”

Ty watched him silently for a moment. “You don"t really seem all too concerned about that,” he accused finally.

“What do you want me to do? Fall on my knees at your feet and thank God you"re still breathing? You"d laugh,” Zane retorted with a wave of his hand.

The heated emotion in Ty"s eyes finally drained away as Zane watched him. “Yeah, I guess I would,” he said finally. He turned and tossed his rag into the bathroom in disgust, then moved into the cabin and bent to begin gathering the scattered contents of their bags without another word.

Zane resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ty was in a snit and would have to sleep it off, and Zane didn"t feel charitable enough to play peacekeeper while coming off a buzz. Maybe he gave in too much as it was. Shaking his head, he took off his jacket and started picking up clothes as well.

They"d thrown most everything in the cases and drawers when Zane decided he didn"t want to stay there while Ty was silent and moody. First he considered going back to the casino; odds were good Bianchi and his Scotch whiskey would still be at the table. It was tempting. Very tempting. But after a long minute"s thought, Zane instead grabbed his swim suit and kicked off his shoes. A swim would be just the thing to work off the annoyance crowding his head.

Ty was kneeling beside the bed, going through a pile of jewelry that had been upended. He had picked up one of Corbin"s cuff links and was looking at it with a deep frown, turning it over and over like he"d never seen one before. When Zane moved, Ty looked up at him.

“You"re going for a swim?” he asked incredulously.

“Would you rather we walk the halls looking for the men who attacked you? That would certainly be restful,” Zane answered shortly.

Ty stood slowly, looking at him as if he was just seeing him for the first time. “Are you always like this when you"re drunk?” he asked with disdain.

Zane frowned. Now Ty sounded like the ass**le he"d first met, distrustful and superior, and he was making a judgment call while overemotional. Typical. “Like „this"?” he asked as he unbuttoned his dress shirt.

“Not giving a shit,” Ty provided sadly.

Zane stood and took a few steps toward Ty as real anger sparked his temper. “You think I don"t give a shit about you?” he asked with precision. “Just what kind of response are you expecting from me here?”

“I don"t know, Zane,” Ty answered. His voice was flat and tired.

“I expect you to be my partner. I expect to be able to trust you. I expect you to stay at least moderately sober, and I expect you to listen when I tell you it"s important,” he rattled off, his voice getting sharper.

“If it had been life or death, you"d have gotten your point across,”

Zane said, the anger flaring in the face of Ty"s cold composure, and Zane just let it loose. “I am doing my job, and I am handling the drink just fine.”

“Oh yeah?” Ty asked, clearly unimpressed. “All right, then,” he said as he looked down at the cuff link in his hand. He held it up. “Tell me about Bianchi"s cuff links.”

Zane narrowed his eyes, setting his hands on his hips. “What is this, some kind of test?”

“You"re a detail guy, right?” Ty asked him in a casual tone. He still held Corbin"s cuff link between his thumb and forefinger. “You were doing your job. Playing poker. Examining your opponents.

Looking for tells, details that could give you clues to their personalities,” he said. “What did Bianchi"s cuff links look like?”

Zane opened his mouth to answer and found himself grasping. He could see Bianchi"s face. His black tuxedo jacket, the white sleeve fastened by…. He frowned.

Ty watched him expressionlessly, finally lowering his hand as he pressed his lips together and nodded. “That"s what I thought,” he muttered, and he tossed the cuff link to Zane.

Zane caught it awkwardly, still preoccupied. He should have known that detail; he was sure he"d seen those cuff links. He looked at the one in his hand, turning it over, feeling a resurgence of annoyance.

“So tell me why cuff links are important to notice at a poker game.”

“Other than the fact that he rubs his finger over them when he"s nervous?” Ty asked quietly. He pointed at the one in Zane"s hand. “It"s a bug. And from what I learned tonight, I"d bet Bianchi"s are too.

Armen wasn"t wearing any.”

Zane glanced down at the jewelry, suspicious, and skimmed his memory for seeing Bianchi do that. Ty couldn"t have been there for more than three minutes, and he"d noticed that? Concern Zane didn"t want to feel prickled down his spine, and he hated it. “So it"s a bug.

That"s no good to us if we"re not the ones listening,” he said, tossing the cuff link onto the bed.

Ty shook his head and turned away.

“You"re not seriously going to tell me that I"m negligent because I don"t remember what his cuff links looked like,” Zane said coldly.

“We"ll talk about this when you"re sober,” Ty told him with finality as he knelt back down to continue going through the pile of trinkets on the floor.

“If I"ve committed such a terrible mistake that you"re this upset about it, I should probably know,” Zane said, even though he could feel his control over his emotions slipping.

Ty stopped and remained still as he knelt, his head down. When he looked up, his entire body was tense. “I needed your help, Zane,” he said softly. He looked over at Zane and stood. “Your partner needed you. I had the key to the case in my f**king pocket,” he said in frustration, holding out his hand. “You think I don"t know how important what you were doing was? You think I would have interrupted you if it hadn"t been something huge?”