Free Cut and Run 3 - Fish and Chips by Madeleine Urban ; Abigail Roux

quick-service lunch, but they’d wanted to get to their suite quickly to head off anyone who might try to get there first and bug the place. It was just past one, and their first scheduled event wasn’t for twenty-four hours.
    “At least with room service I don’t have to eat with a British accent,” Ty said, tongue-in-cheek as he tried not to smile. He leaned against the doorframe as the wind brushed at his thin cotton shirt.
    Zane watched goose bumps rise on Ty’s skin and took the two small steps to stand right before him, their chests practically brushing as Zane ran his hands up Ty’s arms. “Aren’t you cold out here in the wind?”
    “That’s the worst come-on line I’ve ever heard, Zane,” Ty admonished blandly. He hooked a finger into one of Zane’s belt loops. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty or you’d never get laid.”
    “Pretty?” Zane echoed in surprise. Ty merely laughed, the wide smile highlighting the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, lines Zane saw all too rarely. He shook his head and said, “I have never in my life been called ‘pretty’. And come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever had to use a come-on line, either.”
    “The latter is because you’re pretty,” Ty claimed with a huff of air that brushed Zane’s cheek. Zane had to chuckle as he bowed his head. It was just too silly to think of himself that way, with a twice-broken nose healed a little crooked, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and a hell of a lot of scars. Ty turned his head and pressed a kiss to Zane’s cheek, and then he put both hands on Zane’s chest and pushed him away. “Let’s get those bags straightened out. I want to see how many weapons they managed to slip in with us.”
    Zane reluctantly let go and followed him over to the ridiculous round bed. Choosing one of the suitcases, he picked up a heavy, zipped dopp kit. “I’m almost afraid to look,” Zane murmured before opening it. It was an old-fashioned shaving kit with a marble bowl, horsehair brush, and two straight-edge razors. Among other toiletries, there were also two long whetstones with elastic around them, and when Zane turned them over, he found one of his knives strapped to each heavy stone. “Resourceful,” he said with a raised brow. “Although I’m not sure how I’ll wear them with walking shorts and a polo.”
    Ty glanced over to see what Zane was doing and nodded when he looked at the shaving kit. “Hopefully they got more than just your pig stickers in,” he muttered as he poked his finger through one of the neatly packed suitcases. “What the hell are walking shorts? You’re such a geek, man. I guess we can use the straight-edge razors if we want to make a horror show of it.”
    He pulled out a plain leather toiletry bag and unzipped it, peering in for a second before merely letting it go.
    It dropped to the mattress with a clatter of its contents as Ty stood frozen, his head turned away, eyes closed, his hands still out in front of him like he might be traumatized.
    Zane glanced up, and when he saw the mess, he choked on a laugh. “Ah….” He cleared his throat as he looked at the variety of sex toys spilled across the duvet: three different dildos, a set of metal cock rings, a scattering of clamps, a bottle of toy cleaner, a few silk scarves, and a couple of long boxes with clasps. He picked one of the boxes up and opened it. Inside was an implement even Zane wasn’t familiar with displayed on a slide of velvet. When he pulled up the small board, Zane found pieces of a disassembled gun inside.
    “Like I said,” Zane continued, though now he was trying not to laugh, “resourceful. I wonder who laughed their asses off while packing this up.”
    “That’s my gun,” Ty said in an offended voice. “They hid my gun in the sex toys? That’s not right, man.” He shook his head and continued muttering to himself as he began pulling out pieces of clothing and toiletries, carefully examining them