Cut and Run 3 - Fish and Chips by Madeleine Urban ; Abigail Roux Read Free Book Online Page B

trouble.
    “Right,” Ty murmured, humming as his fingers slid across Zane’s.
    Zane poked him gently in the ribs. “Is that a ‘right’ as in agreement or a ‘right’ as in humoring me?”
    “A little of both,” Ty drawled with a smile.
    “I told McCoy that we wouldn’t back down from a challenge.”
    Ty turned his head and blinked at him, nonplussed. “Okay,” he said slowly, as if expecting a caveat to the statement.
    Zane frowned slightly. “Do you disagree?”
    “No,” Ty answered in the same tone. “I’m just saying… we’re screwed.” He gave a laugh. “But hey, I get to work on my tan. And my accent.”
    “Where did you pick up a British accent? If I didn’t know better, I’d think French Foreign Legion.”
    Ty snorted and laughed. “I would look good in the hat thingy.” He smiled warmly at Zane, but Zane knew him well enough now to see through the warmth in his eyes to the gears turning behind them. Ty was trying to find the shortest distance between two lies. “We trained with an SAS team. British Special Forces. Special task force preparedness deal. We taught each other more than battle tactics.” He began to laugh again. “Somewhere in the south of England there is a guy with a still in his cellar making Grandpa’s moonshine.”
    Zane grinned, almost believing the story. Knowing Ty, it was probably somewhat true. Ty likely had trained with an SAS team and gotten them all drunk on Chester Grady’s moonshine. But Zane also had no doubt that the SAS team was not where Ty had perfected that accent. He decided to let that drop too. It wasn’t really important. “Ah, the power of a little liquor for loosening tongues. In more ways than one.”
    “Just trading cultural treasures,” Ty said, tongue-in-cheek.
    Zane turned his face into Ty’s bicep as he chuckled. “Did they know what they were getting when you handed around the flask? Or did you just give them the recipe and say good luck?”
    “Mm. In retrospect, it’s not a good idea to get an Englishman drunk if he’s not quite unarmed yet.”
    “I don’t want to know,” Zane mumbled.
    “Probably not,” Ty agreed as he stared up at the ceiling, smiling faintly.
    Zane relaxed further against Ty’s body and inhaled. Then he frowned and sniffed again. Ty smelled like… lavender and vanilla. “Did they bathe you in lotion? Or rub you with cookie dough or something?” Because there was also a whiff of cinnamon, now that he actually tried to figure out the odd scents that definitely weren’t Ty. Maybe coconut too.
    “Kinky,” Ty commented. He held up his hand and smelled his bicep, shaking his head. “It’s from the massage and… whatever it was.”
    “Is this that spray-on tan stuff?” Zane asked, curious, as he prodded at Ty’s bare belly and the wide expanse of skin.
    “No,” Ty answered in a slightly insulted voice. He swiped at Zane’s hand and rubbed at his belly like it tickled. “I’m always this color, they just… buffed me a little,” he explained, voice shaking with laughter.
    “You are not always this color,” Zane objected, sending his wiggling fingers right back to the hollows along Ty’s ribs for a moment. “You weren’t tan up to here .” His palm skimmed up Ty’s inner thigh.
    Ty turned and grabbed for Zane’s hand, pushing it back to the mattress and rolling toward him. “Quit it.”
    Zane chuckled and evaded Ty’s grasp, sliding his hand instead over Ty’s hip to pull him closer. “No, they did something. It looks weird. You look like — ” He shut his mouth with a snap.
    Ty raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
    “Ah….” Zane cleared his throat and muttered a soft curse. He was going to get shit for this. “You look like a Ken doll.”
    Ty barked a surprised laugh, pressing his mouth against Zane’s shoulder to snicker quietly. He closed his eyes and shook his head finally. “I know,” he moaned as he rolled onto his back and slung his arm over his eyes.
    “So, doll,