He had to take several long, deep breaths to calm himself. “It’s okay, love. There’s no shame in being frightened.”

Cameron looked at him, eyes pleading, expression miserable. Julian’s chest twisted and the anger banked to a slower burn.

“It’s okay.”

Ty threw the car in park and rested both hands on the steering wheel. When Julian glanced at him, he had his eyes closed, visibly trying to relax after the stressful drive.

“I think we’re in a parking lot,” the agent muttered.

Zane cleared his throat again and looked back at them as he popped the car door open. “I’ll go see about a room.”

He left them with Ty in the car, and Ty reached to turn the car off, instantly throwing the car into an otherworldly silence. The chill began to seep into Julian’s bones as soon as the heat turned off.

“Can’t we at least have some heat while we wait?” Cameron asked, voice wavering.

Ty shook his head. “If we get stuck we’ll need to conserve it.”

“Stuck? Is that really a possibility?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Ty said in a louder voice.

“Agent Grady,” Julian said through gritted teeth.

“He’s not stupid, Cross, he deserves the truth.”

“Not from you,” Julian growled, barely able to rein in his temper. What it was about Ty that caused him to lose control so easily, he could not fathom.

“Well, he’s sure as hell not getting it from you.”

“I’m… I’m sitting right here,” Cameron muttered.

“What do you think your boyfriend does, Jacobs?” Ty asked him, his hazel eyes seeming to pierce right through the mirror as he looked at Cameron.

Cameron swallowed hard. “He deals in antiques.”

Ty snorted and shook his head, muttering to himself as he looked out into the wall of white around them. Occasionally they could see the motel’s sign, the neon like a beacon of salvation amidst the world of white. But the chill and the silence were still oppressive.

Julian stared into the falling snowflakes, reflected blue in the moonlight, clamping down on the angry words running through his mind, trying to remain outwardly calm, for his own sake as much as Cameron’s.

The passenger door popped open, and Zane stuck his head in. His hair was wet with melting snow, and his shoulders were covered with flakes. “We got the last room at the inn.”

“Must be our lucky day,” Ty muttered as he got out of the car and both doors slammed.

Julian met Cameron’s eyes.

“I’ll die before anything happens to you,” he promised.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Cameron whispered.

“WE LOST them,” Agent X reported to his superior without emotion.

“What do you mean, you lost them? How can you lose two FBI agents with a prisoner who don’t know they’re being tailed?”

“I believe we need to consider the possibility that they’ve caught wind of us,” Agent X said. “They went through security at Midway like they were supposed to, but I believe they caused a commotion in order to flee. We never picked them up at O’Hare, and we later got reports of an FBI sedan being stolen. The GPS tracking on the sedan has been disabled. They’re avoiding official channels, zigzagging and scrambling. It’s classic maneuvering.”

His superior sighed. “Yes, it would appear they know we’re after them.”

“We picked up their trail when they used a credit card at a hotel in Portage, Indiana. And again when they got on the toll road. They’re trying to make the trip overland.”

“That seems imprudent, to go to all that trouble and then use a credit card.”

“I said they know we’re after them, not that they’re particularly smart. But we lost them again when they took an unexpected detour off the toll road into Michigan.”

“Michigan.”

“Yes, sir. Michigan.”

“What’s in Michigan?”

“Snow.”

“What?

“A lot of snow.”

“I see. Find them, understand? Our one true advantage was the element of surprise. I know Richard Burns, he’s not an idiot. If he knows we’re coming, make no mistake, he’s put his best operatives on this. Whatever they’re doing, it has a purpose. Julian Cross cannot make it to DC. Do what you have to.”

“I understand, sir.”

RICHARD BURNS sat in his darkened office, eyes on a computer monitor, brow furrowed. Years ago he had installed a special tracking device in Ty Grady’s wristwatch for times like this. Ty could turn it on and off at will and only employed it when he was working a special assignment or in trouble, if he was able. Burns could also ping it remotely when he needed to. It was on now. Ty had turned it on moments after getting Burns’ initial call.

His signal had popped up just west of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and made its way to Chicago just as Ty had been ordered. Now it was near the state line of Michigan and Indiana, holding steady.

Burns didn’t understand why. Jonas exited the private washroom in Burns’ office, having just showered, and he came to stand over Burns’ shoulder, watching the computer screen in consternation.

“Why are they heading north? Are they evading someone?”

Burns shook his head and clicked a button that moved the grid onto one of two flat-screen televisions on the panel on the far wall. “They would have called in if they’d picked up anyone following them or run into trouble.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Burns glanced at the other television on the wall, displaying a map from Weather Underground. Massive snowstorms were moving across the Great Lakes, the same weather system Burns had warned Ty and Zane about that morning. It was much more massive than he had thought, and Burns narrowed his eyes at the screen again. With the two maps side by side, it was apparent what was going on.

Ty was lost in the snow. Burns found himself smiling fondly, a laugh escaping as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

“He’s lost. Probably has no idea he’s in Michigan.”

“Lost? Does your man know how important this op is?”

“It doesn’t matter whether I send him to Chicago to retrieve a wet works operative or to Kentucky to get me some goddamned fried chicken, he does his job and he does it well.”

Jonas, of course, knew Ty Grady. He’d known Ty since he was born. But Jonas didn’t know Ty was the one Burns had sent on this mission, and he didn’t plan to tell Jonas that either, not unless he had to.

Burns had also debated over the benefits of telling Ty and Zane what they were getting into, and in the end he had decided it was best to leave them need-to-know. He didn’t know who had followed Jonas’ steps here or who had ears on him, and in the end, the less they knew, the less likely they were to be killed if they were captured.

Burns also knew that if they were aware of the whole story, they would fight and die for a cause that wasn’t theirs simply because Ty would do anything for Jonas, just like he’d do anything for Burns or his father. Burns couldn’t let that happen. Jonas was practically family—a man Ty knew and respected as a dear friend of his father—but Burns wouldn’t risk Ty or Zane for him. Better they be innocent bystanders, blindly following orders, than complicit in what was happening.

Jonas looked at him for a long minute, then nodded and turned away. His hand moved to the pocket where he’d been keeping that burner phone, a nervous gesture Burns had noticed more than once.

“Do you want someone to get in touch with Trish?” Burns asked, recognizing the restless maneuvering of a husband who was beyond late for dinner.

Jonas shook his head. “The less she knows, the better.”

Burns nodded. It was the mantra of every dark operative in history.

He looked back at the screen, a stab of guilt going through him as he stared at the blue dot that was Ty and Zane. Those boys had given up too much for this kind of work. Far too much.

They had stopped moving, and Burns guessed they had bedded down in the blizzard despite the early hour. A blizzard wouldn’t stop the men coming after them once the CIA caught their scent, though. Nor would it stop Julian Cross.

Chapter 8

THEY had the honeymoon suite. Two rooms with the bedroom in the back, no windows, and one door in and out. To escape that bedroom, you had to go through the other half of the suite. It was so perfect that Zane was afraid to find out what the catch was.

As soon as they entered the room, Zane went to the heater and cranked it up. Cameron kept his head down, fleeing for the bathroom. He was upset, but Zane couldn’t blame him.

Ty escorted Julian through the room to the bedroom, Zane trailing behind them to help secure Julian to whatever they could find. Ty had fished a handful of bungee cords out of the trunk with something close to unholy glee.

“Antiques dealer, huh?” Ty asked Julian, voice laced with amusement and contempt as he tossed his jacket onto the bed. He was still irritable and tense from the drive, and the target of his ire appeared to be Julian. Zane wondered what had been said in the car when he was gone to up the level of animosity between them.

“Yes.”

“That’s original.”

“I don’t strive to be original.”

“And the kid?” Ty asked.

“What about him?” Julian asked, shoulders stiff.

Zane looked up at his partner as he flipped through channels on the muted television, trying to find the Weather Channel and wondering what it was about Julian Cross that annoyed Ty so. Ty had told him that parts of Julian reminded him of Zane. Well, parts of Ty and Julian reminded Zane of the way he and Ty had treated each other when they first met. The tension was palpable, but there was an added layer to it that Zane really didn’t want to ponder.

“You know you’re going to get him killed, dragging him all over the place like this.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m dragging him anywhere,” Julian said, utterly calm.

“He has no idea what you do or who you are. You’re doing nothing but putting him in danger,” Ty said. “You really think he’d come willingly if he knew the truth about you?”

“Yes. And sometimes it’s safer that way.”

“Safer, my ass. Ignorance is not bliss, you know.”

Cameron chose that moment to step out of the bathroom, unaware that he was the subject of their conversation.

Julian looked Ty up and down. “Are you telling me you’ve never lied to a loved one?”

Ty raised his eyebrows and shook his head, an entirely insolent look that would have made Zane want to smack him if it had been aimed at him.

“You’ve never kept something from your partner to keep him safe?” Julian asked, voice growing colder.

“No, I haven’t,” Ty answered without a moment’s hesitation.

Julian’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. He and Ty were too close now. Close enough that they couldn’t even look each other up and down without leaning away. Cameron shot Zane a nervous glance, and Zane stood, tensing.

Julian’s voice was low and mocking when he spoke to Ty. “You’ve never lied to someone to keep them safe? Wife? Mother? Boyfriend?”

“No,” Ty said, not reacting to Julian’s last word.

“Fine, you’ve never done it. I’ll believe that out of someone like you. But have you ever lied to someone you loved because you were following orders, Special Agent Grady?”

Ty didn’t flinch, didn’t react in any way other than a jump in the muscles of his jaw. “No.” His voice had dropped dangerously.

The hair on the back of Zane’s neck began to prickle because he knew damn well that was a lie, and Ty had managed it seamlessly.

Julian narrowed his eyes. They stood toe to toe, glaring evilly at each other, neither willing to cross that line and attack, whether verbally or physically. Zane stood back, watching them through wide eyes. He had no desire whatsoever to mix it up with Julian Cross, but if this continued he’d be happy to sit the man down.

“You’re an excellent liar, Agent Grady,” Julian whispered, his voice deceptively calm and borderline seductive. He leaned just a little closer, close enough he could have touched their noses together. He cocked his head. “You think I don’t recognize you? My memory is not as selective as yours.”

Zane straightened as Julian’s words registered. He looked back and forth between the two men. They knew each other? What the hell?

“Julian, what are you talking about?” Cameron asked.

Looking at Ty, Zane could see that he had stopped breathing and gone still, like a snake about to strike.

Julian continued, his voice disturbingly intimate. “When last I saw you, you were speaking flawless French, plying a wealthy Parisian with drinks, and selling… antiques. Do you remember me now?”

Outwardly Ty didn’t react. His face remained impassive and stony, revealing nothing. That alone was enough to tell Zane that what Julian said was the truth. But Zane hadn’t picked up on the fact that Ty knew Julian. It must have been at least a few years ago, or Ty would have remembered. And Ty hadn’t been to Paris since Zane had known him.

Unless Ty had been to Paris, and did remember, but hadn’t let on that he did. A heavy ball of doubt settled in Zane’s gut.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ty finally said.

Julian continued to stare at him, and Ty still hadn’t moved. Julian raised his chin, snorting. “What sort of man must it take to make even his eyes lie?” he asked, the words dripping with disdain and scorn. As far as he’d experienced, Zane knew Julian got a good read on people. But what had he seen in Ty to make him say something that cruel?