“Of course,” she said, looking at them askance as she grabbed menus.

Zane took Ty’s arm and began to lead him down the stairs. Julian followed, dragging Cameron with him as he explained to the waitress that they’d be right back. They didn’t want her growing suspicious enough to call the police on them, but Zane doubted Cameron’s attempts had helped their cause.

The basement of the restaurant had two oddly situated bathrooms and a wide open space used for parties and probably hiding Jimmy Hoffa. They tumbled into that dark, cavernous space and collapsed against whatever was nearest them.

“You’ve been hit,” Zane said to Ty as he knelt next to where Ty had sunk against a wall.

“It grazed me. It’s not bad.” He met Zane’s eyes. “It’s not bad.”

Zane looked at him worriedly, then glanced at Julian.

“It wasn’t me,” Julian snapped, the heat in his voice aimed at Ty.

“You shot from under my arm!”

“There is no possible way I hit you from that angle! It was a ricochet!”

“You want to go over the laws of physics?”

“If I was going to shoot you, I would have shot you somewhere more memorable!”

“Okay!” Zane shouted, putting both hands out to calm them.

Ty grunted at him and pressed his hand to his side, glaring at Julian.

Cameron hugged close to him, and Julian pulled him in and rested his chin on Cameron’s head, closing his eyes as they embraced.

“I’m afraid I’m out of ideas,” Julian whispered.

Zane looked back at Ty. He shook his head, unable to meet Zane’s eyes. “Burns said to get him to Langley.”

“That won’t be happening,” a new voice said from the doorway.

All Zane could see was the outline of a man, a long-barreled rifle slung over his shoulder. As he watched, the man pulled the rifle down and aimed it at him and Ty.

“PRESTON!” Cameron called out in obvious relief.

When Ty scrambled to his feet, he found himself facing the matte black muzzle of a sniper’s rifle. His heart stuttered and his body flooded with ice.

The muzzle lowered to reveal its owner as the man stepped into the pool of an emergency light, and Ty stared at the blond man in shock.

“Thank Christ. Preston, what took you so long?” Julian grumbled as he rushed forward.

“Terribly sorry, sir,” Preston drawled, smirking as he glanced around and met Ty’s eyes. “Hello, Tyler.”

Ty couldn’t find his voice through the surprise.

Cameron glanced between them. “You two know each other?”

“We’re acquainted,” Preston answered as he hiked the rifle onto his shoulder.

“Do tell,” Zane said as he stood next to Ty. “Who the hell are you?”

Preston raised one eyebrow at Zane but didn’t answer him, instead meeting Ty’s eyes and giving him an enigmatic smile.

“He’s Preston, Julian’s driver,” Cameron said.

“Driver,” Zane said, voice wry. “Do you sell antiques too?”

“No, I kill people.”

“Preston!” Cameron said, appalled. “I thought you were staying in Chicago.”

“I had other business to attend to.”

Ty finally found his voice, though he was still staring back at the man as if he’d risen from the dead. “He was… French. You were French,” he said accusingly.

Preston shrugged. “So were you. We both got what we were after.”

“This is the guy from Paris that Burns thinks is Cross?” Zane said, pointing at Preston. “So this is the guy all this has been about?”

“No, dear, please keep up,” Preston said with a curl of his lip.

Ty stood there, shaking his head, mind churning to connect the pieces.

Preston turned to Julian. “Smith and Wesson are in your car, sir. Ready when you are.”

“What about my dogs?”

“With your lady friend from the restaurant.”

Cameron looked crestfallen, but Ty was too distracted by Preston’s sudden appearance to feel sorry for him.

“Grady and Preston were both after the same mark in Paris a few years ago,” Julian said to Zane. “They met during what I hear was a drunken, debauched night of… selling antiques. That’s how I knew Ty had been there. I never saw him.”

“Such unnecessary details,” Preston murmured.

“Ty, seriously,” Zane grunted.

“How is this my fault?” Ty asked in exasperation.

“Do you have a history with every guy with a gun in the Northern hemisphere?”

“Oh, like you don’t have some winners back there you hope we never run into. Let’s head to Miami and see what comes out of the woodwork.”

“Ty.”

“I like guys with guns!”

“Oh my God,” Julian muttered as he rubbed at his eyes.

Zane crossed his arms over his chest and gave Ty a look that said they’d be discussing this later. Ty rolled his eyes and pointed at Preston. “Why are you here?”

“We learned that you were delivering Mr. Cross to the very man who wants him dead. I’m here to kill you and rescue him.”

“You’re a bit late for that,” Julian muttered.

“Bulletproof glass, or I would have been right on time.”

“Fair enough.”

Zane put a hand out and looked from Julian to Ty. “So wait a minute… we’re the bad guys?”

“Sucks, right?” Ty muttered.

Zane huffed. “If we’re the bad guys, that means the CIA isn’t trying to kill Cross. They’ve been trying to save him from us!”

Julian and Ty stared at him, then glanced at each other uncomfortably.

“This is stupid,” Cameron muttered as he rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t believe this is real life.”

Ty shook his head.

“If the CIA and Preston and whoever else are trying to save him and not kill him, why don’t we just drive him up to Langley and this is all over?” Zane said, sounding almost excited.

Julian shook his head. “Please. If you deliver me to them, my life is over. Whether I’m alive or dead, they will own me again.”

Ty met the Irishman’s eyes, a pang of familiarity running through him. He knew what that claustrophobic fear felt like. No one deserved to be pressed into service.

“Can’t we just… disappear?” Cameron asked.

They all looked at him with the same mixture of sadness and contempt. There was no disappearing if you had something the CIA wanted.

“If someone doesn’t go in to clear all this up, they will never stop following you, Cam,” Zane said. He looked at Julian. “You know that.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Preston said, stoic as ever.

“No,” Julian said immediately.

“There’s really nothing to argue over, sir.”

“What?” Cameron asked.

“Preston intends to turn himself into the CIA in my stead.”

“What? Why does it have to be one of us?” Cameron asked, a little plaintive.

“The only solution is to give them Julian Cross,” Ty murmured. “Or run for the rest of your lives. And Preston is in their books as Julian Cross. Am I right? The two of you shared duties under one codename?”

Preston nodded.

“No wonder they thought you were Batman. You were two people.”

“Antiques dealers don’t play fair,” Julian muttered, voice low and wry.

“This is not a difficult decision, gentlemen,” Preston told them, voice devoid of emotion. He handed his rifle to Julian, who took it without question. Then he turned to Ty.

“Wait,” Julian pleaded, a rare show of emotion playing across his face as he stepped between them. “Preston, please.”

“Sir, I really must insist that you not make this difficult,” Preston whispered.

“Oh, Preston,” Cameron murmured, pain in his voice.

Julian was silent, the two old companions sharing a moment of understanding before Julian wrapped the blond man in a tight hug. Then he hung his head and stalked away like a wounded lion pacing in a cage, unable to meet Preston’s eyes. Preston held his hands up to Ty to be handcuffed.

“Put your hands down,” Ty said in a hoarse voice, inexplicably touched by the show of loyalty between the two. They had obviously been partners for many years, and Preston was essentially giving up his freedom for Julian. Sure, he wasn’t going to be imprisoned, but he would be under the thumb of his former employer all the same, unable to live the life he could otherwise. Most importantly, he was giving up ever seeing Julian again, because as soon as they did this, Cameron Jacobs and the man known as Julian Cross would disappear.

It was enough to earn Ty’s respect.

Ty glanced at Zane. “The CIA knows what Cross looks like,” he said in a measured voice as his eyes traveled down Zane’s body. “Walking Preston in there won’t work. We need to give them what they’re looking for or we won’t even make it through the door.”

Zane tipped his head to one side, met Ty’s gaze when it returned to his face, and then, with a twitch of his lips, nodded. “Yeah. Sure, that’ll be fun, actually.”

“What? What will be fun?” Cameron asked.

“Special Agent Preston and I are going to turn ‘Cross’ in to the CIA,” Ty drawled with a growing smirk as he nodded to Zane.

Cameron’s jaw dropped as he looked between Julian and Zane, obviously remembering that he was the one who originally said they looked so much alike. “Isn’t that going to be dangerous?”

Julian nodded grimly. “That’s why they’re all grinning like idiots. Lucky bastards.”

Zane smiled and flipped the gun around in his hand to hold the barrel and offer it to Preston. “Special Agent Preston, your company-issue firearm.”

“It does have a certain ring to it,” Preston murmured as he took the weapon. “All right, lads, say your good-byes,” he urged as he headed for the door, obviously not intending to say his own.

“Zane,” Cameron said, stepping over to touch his elbow. “Thank you.”

Zane patted his hand and glanced at Julian. “Keep him on a leash, would you?”

“Yeah,” Cameron whispered.

Julian looked between them and nodded, his jaw tightening. He stepped forward and held out his hand to Zane. “Agent Garrett. It’s not easy to earn my respect. Well done.”

With a nod, Zane shook his hand. “It’s not often people like us get a second chance. Enjoy it.”

Julian nodded tightly, and his eyes shifted to Ty. He held out his hand, and Ty didn’t hesitate to reach out and take it. “Take it easy, Killer.”

“Agent Grady,” Julian said solemnly. “If the world didn’t have sharks, we couldn’t have kittens either.”

“What?” Cameron asked.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Zane muttered.

“Yeah, it does,” Ty said, meeting Julian’s eyes and nodding.

“They don’t even exist in remotely similar ecosystems,” Cameron said.

Julian smirked and let go of Ty’s hand. “You are far too literal,” he told Cameron as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Take care of yourself, Ty,” Cameron said, voice wavering as Julian led him further into the darkness of the large basement room.

Zane turned back to Ty, then stepped close enough to cup his cheek and kiss him thoroughly. Ty closed his eyes as Zane curled his other arm around him and pulled him close, and let himself get lost in it. He didn’t care if Zane was staking out his territory like a stray dog. After today they might be spending quite a lot of time in jail; it might be his last chance to be staked out.

When Zane finally pulled away, leaving Ty wavering, Preston offered a low whistle.

Zane ignored him as he reached up to touch the compass rose, his fingertips lightly brushing Ty’s skin as well. “In case we’re wrong and I get shot on sight.”

Ty shook his head. “Won’t happen.”

They looked to where Julian and Cameron had been, only to find them both gone.

Ty and Zane shared a glance and shrugged. Their prisoners had finally escaped. Zane held the cuffs out to Ty with a smile. “Ready to go fuck with the Agency?”

A cold ball of determination settled in the pit of Ty’s stomach. He took the handcuffs and grinned wolfishly. “They messed with the wrong Feebs this time.”

Chapter 17

THEY didn’t even make it past the gate guard at Langley.

“You’re not expected,” the man said as he examined Ty’s FBI credentials.

Ty pointed to the camera over the man’s shoulder. “Give the face recognition software some time. We’ll wait.” He pointed at his face and smiled as he looked into the camera; then he reached over and took Zane’s head, yanking him sideways so the camera could see him as well.

Two minutes later, the guardhouse was surrounded.

They were escorted through the lobby, past the wall with no names, to an innocuous conference room where three men sat waiting for them.

They stood when Ty, Zane, and Preston were shoved into the room.

“Gentlemen.”

“You’re the big kahuna?” Ty asked as he kept a tight grip on Zane’s elbow. They had handcuffed Zane behind his back and frog-marched him into Langley like a criminal. Ty had enjoyed it a little too much.

“What is the purpose of this?” the man asked. His face was thin and sallow, and he had snow-white hair that seemed to stand on end. His suit probably cost more than Ty’s whole wardrobe, and Ty didn’t buy cheap. He was flanked by two younger men, Agent X and Agent Y, the former looking tired and amused, wearing a canvas jacket and jeans, the latter wearing thick-rimmed hipster glasses and a tie that was way too thin to be company issue.