Zane smiled as he buried his face against Ty’s chest. He drifted off to sleep, the warmth of Ty’s body and the fading smell of sandalwood filling him with a sense of tranquility he had rarely experienced.

Zane estimated that it was several hours later, still well before dawn, when he awoke to the mattress dipping and Ty getting out of bed.

He had to move carefully in the dark as he rummaged for his clothing and got dressed. It was painfully obvious that he was trying to be silent, trying not to wake Zane. Zane lay listening, almost dozing. Ty sat at the table in the corner and pulled on his boots, and when he stood, he bent over the table for a moment, writing a note.

“Fuck, Ty, not again,” Zane muttered.

Ty jumped and turned to look at him. “Jackass,” he hissed. “You scared me.”

“What are you doing?” Zane asked as he pushed up onto one elbow.

“Have you ever seen the battlefield in the moonlight?”

Zane shook his head.

“Come with me.”

Zane blinked at him, a smile forming as he nodded. “Let me get dressed.”

CAMERON didn’t even get a chance to gasp for breath. He grabbed for the arms surrounding him and slapped a hand over the fingers that covered his mouth, trying to wake up as he felt himself being yanked up from the pillow.

“You’re okay, love,” Julian’s soft voice assured him as he pulled him out of bed. There was an undercurrent of something else in his tone, though, something frightened and urgent. “Stay quiet.”

Cameron nodded and drew a shaky breath when Julian moved his hand away from his mouth. He got his feet under him as Julian released him a moment later, but Cameron had no intention of moving an inch away. Something had spooked Julian, and that was never a good thing.

Julian was tense and silent, his dark eyes riveted on the door to the room and his ear cocked toward the wall that separated their room from Ty and Zane’s. They could easily hear through the walls; they’d found that out earlier.

Julian had no weapon on him. If there was a threat now, they’d be facing it unarmed. “Get your shoes on,” Julian whispered. “Don’t make a sound.”

Stepping away from the safety of his lover’s hulking presence was more difficult than Cameron imagined it would be. He shoved his feet into his running shoes and crouched to tie them. Pulling the laces tight, he glanced up at Julian, trying to get a feel for the situation.

Julian stood stock-still, barely even breathing as he stared hard at the door. He wasn’t looking directly at it, more to the side of it, as if trying to see it out of the corner of his eye. The soft sound of voices filtered through the thick walls, and Julian moved suddenly, whipping his head to the right to look around the room. Cameron stepped back as Julian practically pounced on the desk several feet away, picking up the desk lamp and yanking the power cord out of the base. He reached into the lampshade and unscrewed the lightbulb, then pulled the cord out of the wall. Looking from Julian to the door and back, Cameron scooted out of the way, putting Julian and the heavy wooden armoire of electronics between himself and the door.

“Cam,” Julian hissed, barely audible in the darkness. “Fix the pillows on the bed, make it look like someone sleeping. Quickly.”

Cameron rushed the three steps to the bed, grabbing some of the pillows they’d tossed onto the floor and making columns on the bed. He pulled the comforter up and was hurriedly shoving it down between the pillows when he heard a voice outside the door. He didn’t even think; one of the first things Julian had taught him was to hide. Cameron turned, took one step to the side, and crouched down behind the solid armchair and ottoman to the left side of the bed, curling his frame up behind it so he was out of sight. He hoped.

“The other room was empty.”

“They’ve got to be here somewhere.”

There was more that Cameron couldn’t make out. A moment later, the door to the bedroom splintered at the knob. There was another bang, and Cameron squeezed into a tighter ball as the door flew open. A shaft of light from the hallway fell upon the bed, and he saw the shadow of a man with a gun in his hand cast against the wall above the headboard not four feet away from him. The man didn’t fire, though.

“Shit,” he heard the attacker say, obviously realizing the ruse.

Another heartbeat later, Cameron heard the struggle start, and he knew that Julian had attacked the man. Cameron pried open his eyes and peered around the back of the chair.

Julian’s back was to the wall beside the door. He had the cord of the lamp wrapped around the stranger’s neck, twisting it from behind as the man struggled against him. Another man came through the doorway, gun drawn, and Julian reached out with one hand and slammed the lightbulb into the second man’s face as he stepped through the doorway. He gave a bloodcurdling scream as he fell back out of the room, and Julian kicked the door shut as he tightened the cord around the first gunman’s neck.

Cameron knew he was probably best off where he was, but he shifted to a crouch rather than staying on his knees so when Julian called he’d be ready to go.

The stranger sank to his knees, gasping for breath in the darkness as Julian held the ends of the cord tight. Cameron was grateful he couldn’t see the dying man’s face. The body fell to the ground with a thud, but Julian continued to kneel over him, pulling the cord tight. Shots punched through the thick door over his head, and Julian flinched and covered his head, rolling away from the door.

“Cam, stay down!” he called in a harsh whisper.

More noises came from outside, shouts and breaking glass, bangs and more shouting, and Cameron covered his head instinctively. Gunfire roared, two, three, maybe four shots. Then all was silent for a long moment.

“Two men down.” The voice was sharp, clipped, and familiar, close to the door. Then, louder, “Cross? Are you in there?” Cameron let out his breath. That was Zane.

Julian didn’t answer. Cameron could hear him breathing hard, somewhere in the darkness near the door. “Cross? Cameron?” Zane tried again, his voice still flat. Cameron bit his lip. Julian would have said something if he wanted to, so Cameron kept his mouth shut. Then he heard the busted door swing open and he glanced around the chair back.

As soon as the agent’s shadow entered the doorway, Julian moved. He wrapped an arm around Zane’s neck, holding the broken bit of lightbulb to his throat as he used Zane’s body to shield him from whoever else was outside.

A second later, the light flipped on and Ty moved into the room with his gun drawn, eyes on Julian and Zane.

“I’m not fighting you, Cross,” Zane said, keeping both hands down and out to his sides.

“Let him go, MacGuffin, we just saved your ass,” Ty told him, the gun not wavering.

“No one could possibly know we were here. No one but your men. Check their badges,” Julian ordered. He didn’t let up on the pressure he was exerting on Zane’s neck.

Ty held up his hand to calm Julian and bent down, rummaging through the dead man’s pockets as he kept his eyes and gun on Julian. Cameron shifted behind the chair, staying down for now.

A moment later Ty pulled a badge and held it up, looking at it in shock as he flipped it open. It read FBI in big blue letters.

“See!” Julian shouted. “They’re your people!”

“They’re not our people,” Zane said. “Let up, Cross. We both know I could have shot you twice before you had me.”

“But you didn’t, your fault,” Julian said. “Grady, the gun.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Ty said as he continued to pat the dead man’s pockets. He pulled out a clear spiral cord from behind the man’s ear and whistled as he held it up. “These aren’t Bureau issue.”

Julian relaxed his grip on Zane as he looked at the earpiece. Cameron stood, wondering if he’d ever seen a man so close to Julian’s size next to him. From the back, or maybe the side, he just might mistake Zane Garrett for Julian, and that was still disconcerting even after all this time with him.

“We knew there was something more to this,” Zane reminded them, his back still against Julian’s chest, though he didn’t seem particularly fazed by the bloody broken glass at his throat. “I think it might be a little more important to be leaving right now.”

“Agreed,” Julian said instantly. He dropped the lightbulb and turned to look back for Cameron.

“How’d they find us? That’s so fucking random,” Ty asked as he stood. He sounded pissed.

As Zane and Ty kept talking, Cameron tuned them out. He’d be along for the ride regardless of his input. His eyes strayed from Julian, over to the mess of the bed, across the littered floor between them, to the crumpled body of a dead man with a lamp cord wrapped around his throat. Cameron let out a shaky breath. He knew that life with Julian was like this sometimes, but that didn’t mean it was easy to handle or understand.

Julian moved toward him and hugged him fiercely, seeming to sense that was what he needed. And it was, to be held close and comforted. Cameron sighed and tipped his head back to find Julian’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

Julian nodded. “You?”

“Yes.” Cameron did not look down at the body nearby but instead toward the two men searching the other bodies, words flying rapid-fire between them. He hadn’t been paying attention to know if Ty and Zane were working or insulting each other. For all he knew, it could be the same thing with them. “It’s not safe here.”

“No,” Julian agreed as he looked back at the two agents. He squeezed Cameron’s arm. “Get dressed, Cameron, okay? We’re leaving as soon as these two idiots figure this out.”

Cameron nodded. He wanted to ask questions, but the set of Julian’s shoulders told him that now was not the time.

TY GROWLED as they stripped the dead bodies of all the weaponry they could find. He didn’t like being in the dark, and he felt decidedly shadowed right now.

“Whoever they are, they’ve got top-notch gear,” Zane said as he pulled a backup gun off one of the fallen agents.

Ty nodded unhappily. “Yeah, like their tricked-out fucking CIA spy cars. What could they possibly have tracked? We’ve tossed everything we have.”

Julian stepped toward them, holding a gun he’d taken from one of the men before Ty or Zane could get to it. “We’re leaving,” he announced. He held up the gun. “With or without you.”

Cameron stopped behind Julian, their smallest bag over his shoulder.

“Simmer down, Cross, all right?” Ty muttered as he picked up the dead man’s fake badge again. He stared at it, the FBI logo emblazoning itself into his mind. “Ah, shit,” he hissed as he stood up.

“What?” Zane asked as he stood as well. He checked the ammunition in the gun in his hand and snapped the cartridge back in place before looking at Ty.

“It’s me.”

“What?”

“It’s me, they’ve been tracking me,” Ty said as he pulled at the nylon strap of his wristwatch.

“What? How?” Julian demanded as he stepped forward.

Ty held up the watch. It was a Citizen Promaster Eco-drive dive watch with a black nylon band and a chrome and matte black face. He wore it everywhere he went, never even taking it off to sleep or shower. Richard Burns had given it to him when he’d graduated from the Academy.

Julian shrugged impatiently as he looked at it.

“It has a tracking device in it.”

“It what?” Zane blurted.

Ty glanced at him, apologetic. “Burns had a tracker put in it so he could follow me on assignments. I only activate it when I’m dark or think I’m going to die, but it can be pinged remotely in case I go off grid and he needs to find me.”

Zane was staring at him, wide-eyed.

Ty shrugged and dropped the watch, raising his booted foot to stomp it. Julian grabbed his arm before he could bring his foot down.

“Leave it. They may think it’s you lying dead on the floor and give us some extra time.”

Ty nodded, and he spared one last glance for the watch on the expensive rug before he followed the others out.

“Was it a special watch, Ty?” Cameron asked as they made their way down the back stairwell of the hotel.

Ty shook his head, too troubled to answer. Burns was the only one who knew that tracking device was there. How had the CIA known to ping it?

“MY MAN just went offline,” Burns said, voice grim as he leaned against the desk and stared at the large screen on the wall.

“What could do that?” Jonas asked as he stood to join Burns.

“Well, he could have turned it off. But he wouldn’t, not when he’s in the wind like this. Something’s wrong.”

“Can you turn it back on remotely?”

Burns nodded and went to his computer. A few clicks later and the tracking device in Ty’s watch came back to life, the blue dot flickering before it gained strength. It was still in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. It had been there for over twenty-four hours.

“They haven’t moved,” Jonas observed, brow furrowed.

“No,” Burns whispered. “He took the watch off.”

Jonas turned, looking at him in alarm. “Why would he do that?”

“He figured out that we weren’t the only ones using it.” Burns slammed his hand down on his desk.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know how he thinks. Someone must have found them.”

“We have no way of tracking them now.”

“No.”

“What’s the plan?” Jonas asked.