It was the middle of the night, but the French Quarter didn’t seem to realize it. Zane and the others had escaped the police station in a whirl of purple smoke and chaos, and each man had darted off in a different direction. The crowded streets helped to hide them. They were supposed to scramble for fifteen minutes, then make their way to a rendezvous point once they were sure they were clear.
Any man who couldn’t shake the police was going to have to take one for the team.
Zane had easily evaded any pursuit, using the crowds as cover. After darting down a few side roads, he wandered along Bourbon Street for ten minutes, the dancing crowd full of Easter revelers guiding him like a ship on a river.
He tried not to contemplate his predicament, but it was hard to keep it out of mind. They were now wanted by the police. He and Nick had both given their identification to the detective when they’d given their accounts of the murder scene, so eventually they’d be connected to the breakout. His real name would come out of this and the Bureau would get involved. They would have a lot of explaining to do, but he felt certain he and Ty could talk their way out of it.
And then there was Ty. It seemed like Zane kept forgetting what Ty had admitted to, like his mind was actively trying to block it out. Ty had essentially spent the last two years spying on him. How was Zane supposed to know what was real and what had been another of Ty’s clever tricks to glean information from him?
How much of Ty had he really seen? How well did he know Ty at all?
When he reached Jackson Square, Kelly was the only one there. He was loitering near the iron fence that surrounded the raised, grassy park area. During the day, people used the fence to hang artwork and sell their wares, but at night it was all cleared away. People sat on the concrete ledge or leaned against the fence, smoking, drinking, laughing. Several of them played music with tip jars in front of them.
Kelly was lingering near a man with a guitar. When he spotted Zane, he pushed away from the wall and grinned lopsidedly. “Not exactly a discreet meeting place.”
Zane shrugged. “It was the only place we all knew how to get to. And it’s crowded.”
“Fair enough. What the hell is going on?”
Zane winced and glanced around the throng. He didn’t want to go through this more than once, and he knew the others would have the same question. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m fairly intelligent,” Kelly said with a laugh. “I can usually follow.”
Zane snorted.
“Garrett, the others will be here soon, and then we’re dealing with the whole group dynamic and accusations and serious ADD, so . . . you want to let me know what’s going on now so I can help you?”
Zane stared at the man for a long moment, then nodded. “You were the group’s corpsman, right? So you can deal with . . . any injuries that come from this?”
“Yeah,” Kelly said warily. “Why?”
“I ran into Liam Bell,” Zane said, and hurried to explain faster as Kelly’s eyes widened. “He claims he was hired by a Miami cartel to come here and kill Ty.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s a really long story.”
“How’d you get away from him?”
“I didn’t.”
Kelly narrowed his eyes, looking off into the distance over Zane’s shoulder. “I don’t understand,” he finally said.
Zane couldn’t help but laugh. A hand touched his back and he jerked, reaching for the knife in his pocket.
“Easy, tiger,” Nick said as he stepped around Zane and patted him on the back. “Someone want to tell me why I just made myself a fugitive?”
“It’s complicated,” Kelly answered.
“I’m not doing this again,” Zane grumbled.
Nick stood on his tip toes and looked around the crowd. Several uniformed policemen were walking along the edges of the crowd. Others rode horses. The way they were scanning faces made it obvious they were looking for someone. “We should start moving,” Nick whispered. “We’re too conspicuous standing like this.”
Kelly grabbed Nick’s arm and stopped him.
Nick and Zane both turned to see what had caught Kelly’s attention. Zane spotted Ty immediately. He was still moving slowly, obviously still in some pain and fighting off the remainder of the sedative the hospital had given him. He was keeping his head down and his face in shadow, but Zane knew the roll of his shoulders. Trailing behind Ty, looking far less conspicuous, was Liam Bell. Ty’s eyes locked on Zane’s, and relief flooded through his entire body. Ty took a hasty step forward, but a hand appeared on his shoulder, jerking him back. He went rigid again, putting his hands to his sides.
Zane would recognize that posture anywhere. Ty had a gun at his back.
Ty’s eyes stayed on Zane’s, and Liam used Ty’s body to cover himself. “Let’s all be calm now,” Liam said when they got close. “Who’s armed?”
Zane pulled his jacket away to reveal the knife there. Nick and Kelly both shook their heads.
Liam eased his grip on Ty’s shoulder, then gave him a pat on the back. He slid the gun under his coat and grinned. “Just making sure.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Nick demanded. “Why is he here and am I allowed to hurt him?”
“Not yet,” Ty answered.
“Where are the others?” Liam asked.
Zane glanced at his watch. “They haven’t shown yet. They’ve got two more minutes.”
They remained in an uneasy standoff as the bells of the cathedral rang out the hour. Liam still lingered behind Ty’s shoulder for cover. No one spoke. No one moved, save for Zane periodically checking the time.
Digger eventually materialized from the crowd, Owen on his heels. They’d apparently met up somewhere and made their way here together. They approached warily, sensing the tension in the group. Neither man said a word when they joined them.
“Okay then,” Zane finally said, relieved everyone had made it out. “We have all our stuff stashed, we’ll go get it. But where to after that?”
“We can’t break town,” Nick grunted. He had yet to take his eyes off Liam. “We need somewhere to lay low, regroup.”
“And then you can tell us what the fuck is going on,” Kelly added.
Zane nodded.
“Where do we go?” Liam asked. “My safe house is blown.”
“How?” Zane demanded.
“Too much activity, I don’t trust it.”
Ty glanced over his shoulder at the man, then back at Zane. His mouth was set in a grim line. “I might know the perfect place.”
“Ava?” Zane asked. Ty nodded.
Nick snorted. “The girl who tried to kill you with a cleaver?”
“It’s worth a shot. I think she might be in danger too; I need to warn her.”
“We’ll split up, then,” Liam said. He gave Ty another pat. “You test the waters with cleaver girl, and we’ll get our supplies.”
Ty glared over his shoulder, but he nodded. “You four, go with him. Keep him in line. Zane and I will scout it out and call you in thirty.”
The others nodded, albeit grudgingly as Liam led them away. Zane and Ty were left alone. Meeting Ty’s eyes made Zane’s stomach flutter, but the anger lingered. He clenched his teeth, trying to keep it in.
“You okay?” Ty asked.
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“Not yet, maybe. He’s slick, Zane. Don’t ever let your guard down around him.”
“Really?” Zane snarled. He took a step closer, straightening to his full height so he could look down at Ty. “Because that’s what people have been saying about you for two years now.”
Ty flinched, but he didn’t look away. He pushed his shoulders back, narrowing his eyes. It was like watching a dog bristle as it stared down a threat. Zane hadn’t felt that since their first few weeks together. He refused to back off, though. He put his finger on Ty’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten just because your ass needed saving.”
It was too dark to read Ty’s expression, but he finally broke eye contact to glance down at Zane’s finger.
“Where is this place?” Zane asked when it became apparent that Ty wasn’t going to respond.
Ty spoke through gritted teeth. “Just off Frenchmen Street. Down Decatur and across Esplanade.”
“Lead the way.”
Ty stared at Zane for another few breaths. Then he stepped past him, brushing his shoulder against Zane’s as he set off through the carousing crowd.
Ty didn’t say a word as they prowled toward the far edge of the French Quarter, heading to the little two-block area of Frenchmen Street and the adjoining Faubourg Marigny. Zane knew how Ty felt about going to see Ava again, and Zane wasn’t too happy about it either. There was a good chance she’d be holding a grudge, and with good reason. Zane knew what kind of lies had to be told when you were undercover, and now, thanks to Ty, he realized how badly it hurt to be on the receiving end of them.
But their options were few and far between, and Ty seemed to think she was in danger.
At least he’d be along to make sure she didn’t throw another knife at Ty. If she did, she’d have a couple to dodge herself.
So, forearmed and forewarned, Zane followed Ty out of the lively French Quarter into the more sedate residential area of Marigny.
Ty turned onto a cobblestone alley of stone walls covered with ivy and blooming flowers. It really was gorgeous down here, with the gaslights and wrought-iron gates and ambiance galore. Even the shards of glass in the concrete on top of walls and fences, meant to keep revelers out of private yards, had its own charm. New Orleans had character. Zane hadn’t really appreciated it when he’d been here with Becky. He’d been more concerned with watching her, observing the joy of the experience through the way she lit up.
He often found himself doing the same thing with Ty. He enjoyed the way Ty lived through every pitch at a baseball game more than he enjoyed the game itself.
How much of his own life had he forgotten to live as he watched the people he loved?
The crowd thinned until they were the only ones on the street, offering them less cover. Ty took Zane’s arm so they’d look more like a couple returning home than two fugitives skirting the shadows. He felt stiff as he did it, as if he expected Zane to rebuff him. Zane’s breath was hard to catch. He had never imagined being alone with Ty feeling so awkward.
“Places this side close down at two,” Ty said. He abruptly turned into a narrower, shadier alley.
Zane slowed, scowling at his surroundings. His arm slipped out of Ty’s as Ty kept walking. “Hey.”
Ty stopped and turned, and Zane had a flash of memory, a picture of Becky, her hair bouncing as she turned, her eyes shining.
Zane stared at Ty’s hazel eyes, shocked into silence.
“You okay?” Ty asked.
Zane shook his head. “I think I’ve been here before.”
Ty raised an eyebrow and looked down the alleyway. “Lots of these back alleys look alike. This is a local place, pretty far off the tourist path.”
Zane glanced at the cobblestone and the plain stone walls. He nodded. “Yeah.”
Ty continued down the alley, and after a few dozen yards he stopped at a weathered wooden door set into the crumbling stone wall. The carved sign that hung over the door read La Fée Verte.
Zane stared at it. He was almost certain that had been the name of the dive Becky had dragged him to all those years ago.
Ty pressed his shoulder against the door, and it creaked open accusingly.
Within was the same large room Zane remembered from his dreams. It was still ill-lit and crowded with tables, and the single microphone stand still stood on the stage in front of wine-colored curtains.
Candles flickered in hurricane lamps on the tables, only now it seemed they were battery powered. Years of wax drippings still decorated the tables.
Zane glanced around, stunned. He turned where he stood, staring at the stage, his mind recreating that night, the man he’d watched and found himself attracted to, the first man he’d ever realized he might want, the man he’d almost unconsciously based most of his sexual encounters on since. He could still see the man standing on that stage, wide shoulders, playful smirk, shining eyes, and a beautiful voice.
“Ty.” Zane gaped at him.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“It was you,” Zane whispered.
Ty looked around the bar, brow furrowing.
“Ty, it was you. The man I saw singing, the one I told you about . . . it was you, wasn’t it?”
Ty’s eyes strayed to the stage, then back to Zane. He didn’t look all that shocked. There was a bang from the back and a curtain behind the bar wavered.
A dark-haired woman poked her head out to call, “We’re all closed up now. Try Bourbon Street.” She disappeared behind the curtain again.
Ty and Zane both stared at the curtain before sharing a glance. “It was you,” Zane whispered again, still rocked to his very foundations by the revelation.
“It couldn’t be. You said it was your anniversary. I wasn’t here yet in July.”
“It was
for
our anniversary. We came in December because it was easier.”
Ty stood motionless, eyes on Zane for a long moment before he glanced back at the curtain. It wasn’t but a few seconds before the curtain swayed again, and the woman shoved it aside as she stepped out. She was on the shorter side, with long hair so black it was almost blue in the smoky haze. A fluffy white feather was tucked behind her ear, and on closer inspection, several more feathers of various colors appeared to be part of her hair too.
Her dark eyes were lined in kohl, masking their real color, and it was hard to tell in the dim light but she seemed exotic in a way, like there may have been Native American blood in her. She was athletic and curvy, certainly Ty’s type, wearing black pants that hugged her hips and a laced corset for a top. Her body was tense as she stared at them.
Zane glanced from Ty to her and back. She was surprised, that was clear, which told Zane she wasn’t behind the hex Ty was sure had been put on him.
“Tyler Beaumont,” she said.
“Hello, Ava,” Ty responded. Zane knew he was nowhere near as calm as he sounded.
She moved suddenly, vaulting over the bar and running toward him. Zane almost moved to block her, but Ty didn’t flinch as she launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He grunted in pain, stumbling beneath her weight as she hugged him.