Dan & Tyler 2 - Wintergreen (6 page)

"They were confident and well-prepared," Cole said tightly, his control still ragged around the edges. "I wouldn't have green-lighted the missions if they weren't. The jobs were standard, as much as they ever can be. They met with failure because they were betrayed. They didn't just die; they were captured, killed, and their bodies left where they'd be found. Too many similarities there, too -- I suspect whoever warned the targets told them what to do with the bodies."

That was the conclusion Tyler would've come to as well. Shit.

"I'm sorry," he told Cole, aware of the inadequacy of the words, but needing to say them. Cole gave him a sharp look, his customary calm restored, on the surface, at least. "Sorry for the loss of three people you once worked with and, as I recall, liked? Or sorry that you can't help me because you persist in the assertion that you're damaged beyond repair?"

"Both," Tyler said shortly. "If you want me to find your leak, well, I can't. You said it yourself; no one would believe that I'd come out of retirement, and I'd need to be involved, get to know the players… You'd just spook whoever it was, because it'd be obvious what I was doing. Use your own Internal Affairs. Hell, shoot 'em all up with babble juice or hook them to a lie detector."

Cole snorted. "You know how pointless that would be. No, what I had in mind was less hands on. I was hoping that if I gave you the names of the six people I suspect, and as much information as I have, you could find the person responsible. You wouldn't even have to leave this charmingly rustic retreat of yours if you didn't want to."

"As easy as that? I'll get onto it in the morning and discover a cure for the common cold after lunch," Tyler said dryly. "Cole, if it was possible to do it that way, you'd have done it yourself."

"No. I tried. I can't trust this to anyone else, and I don't have time--" Cole's face twisted with frustration again. "I can't make the connections the way that you do. I can't dig as deeply. And… these are people I work with. I look at them after reading their files, and I see them--"

"Through a glass darkly. Yeah, I know." Suspicion and mistrust were insidious emotions and easy for the traitor to identify. If the person selling information picked up on Cole's doubts, then the next hit, the next body, might be closer to home. Something told Tyler that Cole was making this sound simpler than it was, but refusing to help was impossible. He'd had no choice but to resign when his nerve had gone, but it didn't mean that he felt no guilt about walking away. Cole wasn't the only one driven by patriotism.

He took a deep breath and released it, letting it take away some of the nagging anxiety he'd been feeling. This wasn't a problem. Cole just wanted him to do research. It was even good to know that, for all that had happened between them, Cole still trusted him. Their relationship had been based on respect, and Tyler had felt more than one pang of regret at the thought that Cole would have seen his resignation as a kick in the teeth. "Okay. I'll take a look at what you have, but I can't promise anything."

"Thank you," Cole said. He cleared his throat. "Do I need to tell you that the details of this investigation cannot be shared with young Mr. Seaton, for his own safety as much as anything else?"

"I'll need to tell him something," Tyler said slowly, already framing suitably vague explanations in his head, "but I'll keep it non-specific."

"He could, perhaps, be relocated until your work is done?" Cole suggested. "Or you could find an alternative place to stay and leave him here? Failing that, I'd be more than willing to pay for him to go to somewhere that would appeal to a boy his age."
"Disney to shake hands with Mickey?" Tyler said. "Cole, he's twenty, and he's not going anywhere, and neither am I. I'll take care of it."

"Very well," Cole said, his reluctance plain. "If you change your mind…"

"I won't. Drop it and let's get down to business. You're going to need to reinstate my clearance so that I can access the databases I need." Tyler dug his cold hands into his pockets. "Can you do that without setting off any alarms?"

"No," Cole said without hesitation. "I can't."

 

"Cole--" Tyler protested. "You're tying my hands here."

"For some of them, I'll give you my passwords." Cole smiled thinly at Tyler's jerk of surprise. "I'll change them after this is over, of course. For the databases I'd have to access on site with biometric checks, you'll have to tell me what you need to know and I'll take it from there. For now, start with this."

Cole took something out of his pocket, small enough to fit in his hand, and passed it to Tyler.

 

"A flash drive?" Tyler turned it over in his hand, giving it a dubious look. "What's on it?"

"Everything I have," Cole said simply. "Files on the suspects, the three targets, the agents who died. It's encrypted; check your e-mail for the key. I'll send it tonight. Computer logs, security footage -- I have those in the car."

For a man who didn't let his right hand know that his left had put toothpaste on the brush, all this was a sign of trust so profound -- and an indicator of how seriously Cole was taking this -- that Tyler was left with nothing to say.

"Anything else you need?" Cole asked, his words dry, as well they might be given what Tyler was holding.

Habit kept Tyler from revealing too much of what he felt, although it would have been darkly amusing to see Cole's reaction to a sentimental outpouring from him. "I don't know yet. Maybe." Tyler shrugged. "I'll manage."

"You always did," Cole murmured. "Very well, if I recall."

They arranged the routine details about communication of any questions or results in short, guarded sentences, their voices low from habit, standing close enough that their lips couldn't have been read by anyone watching from a distance. It wasn't what he'd wanted, but part of Tyler was stirring awake after a long sleep, invigorated, eager. God, was he actually looking forward to working again? The thought of that scared him spitless.
They began to walk back to the cabin, the sparse remnants of the snow crunching under their feet. The sun was going down, and it was getting colder, the bare branches of the trees stark against a pale pink sky fading to blue.

"It's peaceful here," Cole said, as if he'd only just noticed and Tyler didn't know already. "Quiet. Restful."

 

"You'd hate it," Tyler said before Cole started to talk about coming out in the summer for some fishing and embarrassed himself. "You're a city mouse, Cole."

 

"True."

 

"You're welcome to stay the night, if you like." Tyler knew that Cole wouldn't want to spend the night away from his wife, Sonya, unless he was forced to, but the offer had to be made.

 

"It's a long trip to the nearest airport," Cole said, "and I can't be away overnight without questions being asked."

 

Tyler nodded and wondered what Cole had done to keep this trip secret -- if he had. "I have one question of my own."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Who do you think it is?"

 

Cole shook his head. "No. I don't want to influence your investigations."

 

"So there is someone at the top of your list."

 

"I have suspicions, yes. I need facts." Cole gripped Tyler's arm, bringing him to a halt in front of the cabin. "Find them for me, John."

Tyler didn't bother to correct Cole this time; he'd learned to answer to many names over the years and lost any attachment he might have had to the one his parents had given him. "And when I do?"

Cole just stared at him, face impassive.

 

"No."

 

"One last time. You don't need to use a bullet. There are plenty of other ways."

 

"No."

 

"Oh, very well," Cole snapped as Dan appeared in the cabin doorway, his glare at Cole telling

Tyler that Dan had heard the last part of their conversation at least. "Let me get you what you'll need from my car." He glanced at Dan and then back at Cole. "And remember what you promised," he said, pitching his voice low enough that Dan probably couldn't hear him.

"I didn't promise anything," Tyler said as Cole went to the car, and didn't bother to whisper it.

 

***

"Well, that was a flying visit," Dan said. Tyler looked like shit, the way he was after a bad dream, his face a washed-out color, shivering as if he was cold and wet and naked. He'd held it together until Cole had driven away, and now he was losing it as Dan watched.

"Cole doesn't m-mess around when he's got something to s-say," Tyler managed to say through the shuddering. Dan could hear his teeth chattering. "Good news: he doesn't want me to kill anyone."

"Good," Dan echoed as he sidled up close and put his arm around Tyler. "Bed."

 

"It's a little early, don't you think?" Tyler didn't put up much resistance as Dan guided him toward their bed, which was a worrying sign. "And if you planned to jump my bones, forget it."

 

"Yeah, you're irresistible when you're sweaty and look like you're about to throw up. I can't keep my hands off you.
Bed
."

He got Tyler tucked in and then filled a hot water bottle and used the kettle he'd boiled to make a hot toddy, heavy on the whiskey and honey. His grandmother had shown him how to make them as a kid, when he was way too young to drink them. Amber whiskey and a translucent drizzle of honey, topped with a splash of lemon juice, the whiff of citrus tart enough to make his mouth water, and a dash of ginger. She swore her toddies had kept his grandfather alive one winter when he had bronchitis, and she could have been right, given their pungency. If he could get a few swallows of toddy into Tyler, Dan was pretty sure the shaking would stop.

"Don't want anything," Tyler said when Dan walked into the bedroom. His eyebrows shot up incredulously and then came together in a frown. "A
hot water bottle
?"

"It's
your
hot water bottle," Dan pointed out. He flipped the sheets back and tossed the bottle next to Tyler, who glared at him and then reluctantly dragged it against his stomach. "Drink this."

Tyler sniffed suspiciously, but must have approved of old-fashioned remedies, because he sat up and held out his hand for the heavy earthenware mug, sturdy enough to have survived months of Dan's rough and ready washing up without a chip. Dan liked the smooth glaze on it and the deep blue color, patterned with swirling shapes his brain kept trying to make into objects and failing.

Dan sat on the bed, put the mug into Tyler's hand, and helped him raise it to his lips, steadying it. "Do you mind?" Tyler snarled, batting at Dan's hand. "I'm not an invalid, and last time I looked, I wasn't a baby, either."

"Fine. Spill it and sleep in a swamp, because I'm not changing the sheets."

 

"Boy, you get any bossier and I'll--" Tyler broke off to gasp as the first swallow hit him. "Shit, that's strong."

 

"Yeah," Dan said. "Pass it over. I could use some, too."

 

He took a healthy gulp and felt sweat break out on his forehead. Granny would approve. "Whoohoo, that's good."

 

"Yeah, it hits the spot," Tyler said grudgingly. "Give it back to me. It's going to get you drunk."

 

"I can hold it," Dan protested.

"Two beers and you're slopping all over me; three and you're close to passing out," Tyler said, which was an exaggeration Dan intended to take issue with when he'd gotten Tyler back to normal.

Dan handed the mug back and watched Tyler sip at the hot liquid, his eyes heavy with tiredness, some color coming back to his cheeks.

 

"So why did he come if he didn't want you to go back to… you know?"

 

Tyler gave him a sidelong look. "Would it work if I said I didn't want to talk about it?"

 

"About as well as it worked when you said you didn't want to go to bed and you didn't want a hot water bottle." Sometimes, Tyler just walked right into it.

 

"Thought so." Tyler tapped the side of the mug with a finger. "Mind if I finish this first?"

 

"Nope."

Dan settled down next to Tyler, close enough that their arms touched, so that he'd know when Tyler began to relax, tight muscles loosening. He'd learned not to push at times like this, and sometimes to just walk away and let Tyler battle the demons alone. Mostly, though, he just got close and held on, and that worked well enough.

When the mug was empty, Tyler sighed, put it down on the bedside table, and turned to Dan, pulling him in for a hug. The quilt and the lump of the hot water bottle were barriers, but Dan ignored them, nuzzling into Tyler's neck and enjoying, as always, the comfort to be had in Tyler's muscular solidity. Tyler felt good to hug; it was simple as that.
"He's got a, uh, a research job for me," Tyler murmured sleepily into Dan's hair. "That's all. Going to need the computer and some privacy, but after that, suppose we take off, huh? Find a sunny beach and get smashed out of our skulls on drinks with paper umbrellas in them. Live the tourist cliché for a while."

"I like beaches, and I'll go anywhere you want to," Dan said, choosing his words carefully as he processed the shreds of information Tyler had given him. "What kind of research?"

 

Tyler sighed. "Can't say."

 

"Why choose you to do it?"

 

"Ditto."

 

"Are they paying you? I mean, is it official?"

 

"That never came up," Tyler admitted. "Probably not, no. It doesn't matter. It's not the kind of work I want to be paid for."

 

"That's not reassuring, you know." Dan fell silent for a moment and then asked one final question. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Tyler stroked his hair and then moved a hand down to the back of Dan's neck, fingers finding places to touch that make Dan do some shuddering of his own. Tyler knew him too well now. "You can bring me coffee and ignore me when I get bad-tempered."

"Same old, same old."

 

"Yeah." Tyler yawned. "Okay, I'm going to sleep off that drink." Dan's stomach grumbled loudly, making him grin, and Tyler gave him an apologetic look. "Shit, I was cooking, wasn't I?"

"I can follow a recipe," Dan said, "and you'd done most of the hard work before company showed up early. I'll save you some if I'm feeling in a generous mood or you've put in too much of whatever it is that makes it hot."