Read Online Cut and Run 4 - Divide and Conquer by Abigail Madeleine u Roux Urban - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Abigail Madeleine u Roux Urban
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hear,
“McCoy did say you two were pretty.”
Ty reached over and flicked him on the tip of his nose. Alston
laughed even as he turned his head away.
“… and we estimate public opinion of the FBI rose as much as 8
percent after the very first broadcast,” White Strips continued.
“Ooh, so Garrett and Grady are sexy TV stars now,” Special
Agent Michelle Clancy crowed as Zane talked over her, saying, “Those
percentages don‟t mean anything.”
“It means, Special Agent Garrett,” White Strips said with a
smarmy smile, “that due to your sudden rise in popularity, you and
your high-profile partner just earned another three months of
community class duty.”
“Oh son of a bitch!” Ty blurted out with a flurry of hand motions
and stomp of one foot, sending another ripple of laughter through the
entire conference room.
“I didn‟t even say anything,” Zane objected.
“Your bad-boy biker image did your speaking for you, Special
Agent Garrett,” White Strips pointed out. “You should have thought of
that before zooming however-many hundred feet down the pier on that
motorcycle.”
“Yeah, Garrett, next time curtail your hotness,” Ty sniped. He
crossed his arms and slumped in his seat like a sulking child. More
classes, more lectures, more dealing with people and being nice to
them. He was going to go insane. “And do I get no credit at all for
running the same distance in the same amount of time that he rode ?
Come on!”
There was a brief chorus of pandering, unsympathetic
“awwwws,” followed by Alston drawling, “And why is it—”
“We shop at the same grocery,” Zane said sweetly, cutting off
whatever Alston was starting to spin out.
Divide & Conquer | 45
“Ty doesn‟t eat real food,” Alston observed with a frown.
Ty waved him off.
“Back to business,” White Strips insisted, picking up a stack of
thick manuals and starting to pass them out. “Time for a general review
of agency public-relations guidelines.”
Ty groaned inwardly. He hoped the sudden support from his
fellow agents would hold after being bitch-slapped with a regulations
manual for the next hour. He doubted it.
ZANE parked near the ambulance that sat to the side of the softball
field and climbed out, leaving the truck running with the heater on. It
only took him a few steps to get to the open back doors of the
ambulance where Ty sat, looking awfully dejected. He wore a loose
blue and gray baseball jersey with the word “Feds” written in cursive
across the chest, and he was covered in red dirt almost from head to
toe. The number twelve and the name “Bulldog” were stitched on the
back where his last name should have been. The jersey had come
untucked from a pair of gray baseball pants, revealing a dark blue
Under Armour shirt that hugged Ty‟s torso.
When Zane stopped at his side, he turned his head and gave Zane
a sheepish smile. “Hey,” he greeted.
After looking Ty up and down, Zane smiled. “How you feeling?”
“Had better nights.” Ty‟s words were slow and careful. Then he
held up his right hand, which was wrapped up in white athletic tape.
His pinkie finger was almost indiscernible. He held a disposable ice
pack in the other hand, pressing it to his ribs. “Got run over by a
fireman.”
Zane couldn‟t help but laugh.
An EMT wrapped up in a heavy jacket nodded solemnly. “I‟m
shocked he remembers it.”
“You hush,” Ty grunted at her.
46 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
“Can he leave?”
“I‟ve done all I can do for him,” she answered with a nod and a
pat to Ty‟s shoulder.
“C‟mon, your chariot has arrived,” Zane said, stepping back and
waving the way to his truck. “Did you get the truck‟s number?”
“What truck?” Ty asked as he slid carefully from the ambulance
and trudged around it. He wasn‟t entirely steady as he stepped past
Zane; his cleats dragged through the gravel. He seemed to be moving
on
“McCoy did say you two were pretty.”
Ty reached over and flicked him on the tip of his nose. Alston
laughed even as he turned his head away.
“… and we estimate public opinion of the FBI rose as much as 8
percent after the very first broadcast,” White Strips continued.
“Ooh, so Garrett and Grady are sexy TV stars now,” Special
Agent Michelle Clancy crowed as Zane talked over her, saying, “Those
percentages don‟t mean anything.”
“It means, Special Agent Garrett,” White Strips said with a
smarmy smile, “that due to your sudden rise in popularity, you and
your high-profile partner just earned another three months of
community class duty.”
“Oh son of a bitch!” Ty blurted out with a flurry of hand motions
and stomp of one foot, sending another ripple of laughter through the
entire conference room.
“I didn‟t even say anything,” Zane objected.
“Your bad-boy biker image did your speaking for you, Special
Agent Garrett,” White Strips pointed out. “You should have thought of
that before zooming however-many hundred feet down the pier on that
motorcycle.”
“Yeah, Garrett, next time curtail your hotness,” Ty sniped. He
crossed his arms and slumped in his seat like a sulking child. More
classes, more lectures, more dealing with people and being nice to
them. He was going to go insane. “And do I get no credit at all for
running the same distance in the same amount of time that he rode ?
Come on!”
There was a brief chorus of pandering, unsympathetic
“awwwws,” followed by Alston drawling, “And why is it—”
“We shop at the same grocery,” Zane said sweetly, cutting off
whatever Alston was starting to spin out.
Divide & Conquer | 45
“Ty doesn‟t eat real food,” Alston observed with a frown.
Ty waved him off.
“Back to business,” White Strips insisted, picking up a stack of
thick manuals and starting to pass them out. “Time for a general review
of agency public-relations guidelines.”
Ty groaned inwardly. He hoped the sudden support from his
fellow agents would hold after being bitch-slapped with a regulations
manual for the next hour. He doubted it.
ZANE parked near the ambulance that sat to the side of the softball
field and climbed out, leaving the truck running with the heater on. It
only took him a few steps to get to the open back doors of the
ambulance where Ty sat, looking awfully dejected. He wore a loose
blue and gray baseball jersey with the word “Feds” written in cursive
across the chest, and he was covered in red dirt almost from head to
toe. The number twelve and the name “Bulldog” were stitched on the
back where his last name should have been. The jersey had come
untucked from a pair of gray baseball pants, revealing a dark blue
Under Armour shirt that hugged Ty‟s torso.
When Zane stopped at his side, he turned his head and gave Zane
a sheepish smile. “Hey,” he greeted.
After looking Ty up and down, Zane smiled. “How you feeling?”
“Had better nights.” Ty‟s words were slow and careful. Then he
held up his right hand, which was wrapped up in white athletic tape.
His pinkie finger was almost indiscernible. He held a disposable ice
pack in the other hand, pressing it to his ribs. “Got run over by a
fireman.”
Zane couldn‟t help but laugh.
An EMT wrapped up in a heavy jacket nodded solemnly. “I‟m
shocked he remembers it.”
“You hush,” Ty grunted at her.
46 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
“Can he leave?”
“I‟ve done all I can do for him,” she answered with a nod and a
pat to Ty‟s shoulder.
“C‟mon, your chariot has arrived,” Zane said, stepping back and
waving the way to his truck. “Did you get the truck‟s number?”
“What truck?” Ty asked as he slid carefully from the ambulance
and trudged around it. He wasn‟t entirely steady as he stepped past
Zane; his cleats dragged through the gravel. He seemed to be moving
on
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