Fish & Chips Read Online Free Page A

who"s familiar with them will expect you to do anything but lay in the sun and work on your tan. Garrett? In the field, you"re the lead on this one. You"re calling the shots. Grady is just there as scenery and backup.”
    Zane snorted as Ty turned to look at McCoy in outrage. Backup?
    They were partners; there was no lead and backup!
    “Ty, we"ve booked you an appointment at some spa with a name I can"t pronounce,” McCoy went on as he handed Ty a slip of paper.
    Ty reached out woodenly and took the certificate. “I"ll get on board with the hair color,” he bargained pleadingly. “You"re seriously gonna make me wax my chest?”
    “You see that guy in there?” McCoy countered with a point of his finger at the man in the interrogation room.
    Ty swallowed hard. He had done a lot of things he wasn"t proud of in order to assume identities that weren"t his. He"d changed his appearance, changed his behavior, treated decent people horribly to make an impression on a scumbag, prepared crack cocaine for others to smoke, taken lives, and any number of other things he didn"t care to remember. He knew how important a part the smallest thing could play when trying to convince a stranger that you were someone they thought they already knew. He looked down at the silver ring on his finger and back up at the man behind the glass with a heavy sigh.
    “There"s a good man,” McCoy said with a pat to Ty"s shoulder.
    Ty glanced at Zane as he felt himself blushing slowly. Though Zane"s face was composed, Ty could see the laughter in his eyes.
    “I don"t know how they"ll get rid of the tattoo, but they"ve assured me they can,” McCoy added with another pat to Ty"s shoulder.

    16 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

    “What?” Ty cried as he looked at McCoy in outrage.
    McCoy just smiled at him. “This guy was obviously never a Marine,” he reasoned. “Now, Grady, you get going,” he ordered before Ty could have a meltdown. “You"re getting the works, so you"ll probably be there all fucking day. Garrett, come with me,” McCoy said as he gestured for Zane to follow him. “I"ll introduce you to yourself,”
    he said wryly as they headed out the door.
    Ty felt the sudden urge to beg Zane not to leave him there. He could feel the raised writing on the slip of thick, cream-colored paper in his hand. He looked down at it, thinking of all the procedures the makeover would entail. Salon Láurie… waxing, tanning, bleaching, manicures, lotions, scented mud….
    Del Porter said something suddenly, complaining about being left in the room for so long. Ty turned to look at him in shock. He pointed his finger in outrage and turned to the other agent in the room. “He"s British?” Ty cried.
    Special Agent Lassiter, who"d been standing there silently the whole time, covered his mouth with his hand and merely nodded in answer, unable to keep from laughing any longer.

    “DO YOU realize what kind of shitfit Grady"s going to have over this when this is all done?” Zane asked McCoy as they walked down the nondescript hallway of holding and interrogation rooms.
    “Oh, I"m looking forward to it,” McCoy said with relish. “I want pictures, Garrett. They"ll be great for the newsletter.”
    Zane rolled his eyes. “I hope your insurance is up to date,” he said as they stopped at another door. “Grady doesn"t forget people who fuck around with him.”
    “He gives as good as he gets,” McCoy said good-naturedly as he opened a door. Zane grunted and walked in.
    The man on the other side of the two-way glass was as different from Del Porter as night was from day. And McCoy was right. Zane did have a general resemblance in height, build, and coloring. But Fish & Chips | 17

    Corbin Porter was definitely high-class. Or he thought he was: finely cut hair slicked back, a ruby stud in one ear, an expensive designer suit with a high-collared shirt rather than a tie, custom cuff links, manicured hands, and Italian leather on his feet. He held himself like