Free Stars & Stripes by Abigail Roux Page B

wrapping him in warmth and pleasure. Zane pushed his hips off the mattress, his entire body going into spasms.
    “Come on, Zane!” Ty yelled, sounding just as desperate as he often did when Zane was inside him.
    Zane shouted and reached up to dig his fingers into the headboard as he came. His hand moved faster, then his fingers massaged his balls for an even stronger orgasm as he came all over his belly and even up onto his chest. He could hear Ty talking him through it, but he didn’t register the words until his breathing had calmed.
    “Zane,” Ty said, his voice sounding far away.
    Zane reached for the phone and turned off the speaker, then held it to his ear. The cold air hit him as he calmed, and he knew he’d have to get out of bed to at least wipe down with a damp towel before he could sleep. The stress was gone, though, and he told himself there was no reason to be lonely. Ty was out there, waiting for him, missing him.
    “As good as that was, I prefer it in person,” Zane said.
    Ty chuckled, the sound dark and familiar. “Now go clean yourself off. Look at you, you should be ashamed.”
    “Ditto, you pervert,” Zane grunted, smiling.
    “Goodnight, Zane.”
    “Night, Ty.”
    The call ended without any further fuss or pleasantries. Zane lay awake for a while longer, shocked by how a simple call and a few minutes listening to Ty’s voice could turn his outlook around.
    He fell asleep with the phone still in his hand.
     

     
    “Dad, what were you thinking, going out there alone?” Zane asked.
    He pushed away from the railing of the big house’s second-floor balcony and frowned at his father, who was sitting in one of the lounge chairs and staring out over the land.
    He was shocked by the difference in the man. His hair had gone from steel gray to almost white in the last year or so. His face was thinner, bordering on gaunt, and though Zane was attributing much of it to his injuries, he was concerned by the lack of life in his father’s dark eyes. The only things that hadn’t changed were the impressive horseshoe mustache and the deep resonance of his voice.
    “I wasn’t thinking about getting shot, if that’s what you’re after.”
    Zane snorted and turned to look out over the land. “You should get some more help, you know.”
    “I’m doing just fine.”
    Zane snorted. “You’re either stubborn or cheap.”
    “I’m lazy, there’s a difference. Takes work to hire a new man I can trust.”
    Zane laughed, then pulled his phone out of his back pocket and checked it for the fifth time since they’d gotten home. No texts or calls.
    “Still. Edges of the ranch are getting away from you.”
    Harrison frowned and looked out at the view of the sprawling Hill Country: acres and acres of unrelenting, rolling green, covered with prickly pear cactus and scrub trees that made passage on foot nearly impossible. It was a beautiful, foreboding landscape, and every inch they could see from their vantage point belonged to the Carter Garrett ranch. It was over five-thousand acres, and Harrison only employed two dozen or so ranch hands.
    Zane leaned forward, watching his father. “Dad.”
    “Weren’t you calling someone?” Harrison said with a wave of his hand.
    Zane grunted in annoyance, but nodded. “I’ll be right back, just need to check in at work.”
    “Take your time.”
    Zane paced away, heading toward the other end of the balcony as he dialed Ty. He’d tried on the way to the hospital this morning, but hadn’t been able to reach his partner. He’d tried several times since bringing his father home, and each call had been kicked directly to voicemail. The phone didn’t ring this time, either, just sent him to Ty’s voicemail yet again. Zane hung up without leaving a message. A heavy, ominous feeling began to settle in his chest. There was no good reason Ty wouldn’t answer his phone at this time of day.
    He glanced back at his father, then dialed his work line.
    “This is Special Agent