Cut and Run 5 - Armed and Dangerous

are you?”
    Preston raised one eyebrow at Zane but didn’t answer him, instead meeting Ty’s eyes and giving him an enigmatic smile.
    “He’s Preston, Julian’s driver,” Cameron said.
    “Driver,” Zane said, voice wry. “Do you sell antiques too?”
    “No, I kill people.”
    “Preston!” Cameron said, appalled. “I thought you were staying in Chicago.”
    “I had other business to attend to.”
    Ty finally found his voice, though he was still staring back at the man as if he’d risen from the dead. “He was… French. You were French,” he said accusingly.
    Preston shrugged. “So were you. We both got what we were after.”
    “This is the guy from Paris that Burns thinks is Cross?” Zane said, pointing at Preston. “So this is the guy all this has been about?”
    “No, dear, please keep up,” Preston said with a curl of his lip.
    Ty stood there, shaking his head, mind churning to connect the pieces.
    Preston turned to Julian. “Smith and Wesson are in your car, sir. Ready when you are.”
    “What about my dogs?”
    “With your lady friend from the restaurant.”
    Cameron looked crestfallen, but Ty was too distracted by Preston’s sudden appearance to feel sorry for him.
    “Grady and Preston were both after the same mark in Paris a few years ago,” Julian said to Zane. “They met during what I hear was a drunken, debauched night of… selling antiques. That’s how I knew Ty had been there. I never saw him.”
    “Such unnecessary details,” Preston murmured.
    “Ty, seriously,” Zane grunted.
    “How is this my fault?” Ty asked in exasperation.
    “Do you have a history with every guy with a gun in the Northern hemisphere?”
    “Oh, like you don’t have some winners back there you hope we never run into. Let’s head to Miami and see what comes out of the woodwork.”
    “Ty.”
    “I like guys with guns!”
    “Oh my God,” Julian muttered as he rubbed at his eyes.
    Zane crossed his arms over his chest and gave Ty a look that said they’d be discussing this later. Ty rolled his eyes and pointed at Preston. “Why are you here?”
    “We learned that you were delivering Mr. Cross to the very man who wants him dead. I’m here to kill you and rescue him.”
    “You’re a bit late for that,” Julian muttered.
    “Bulletproof glass, or I would have been right on time.”
    “Fair enough.”
    Zane put a hand out and looked from Julian to Ty. “So wait a minute… we’re the bad guys?”
    “Sucks, right?” Ty muttered.
    Zane huffed. “If we’re the bad guys, that means the CIA isn’t trying to kill Cross. They’ve been trying to save him from us!”
    Julian and Ty stared at him, then glanced at each other uncomfortably.
    “This is stupid,” Cameron muttered as he rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t believe this is real life.”
    Ty shook his head.
    “If the CIA and Preston and whoever else are trying to save him and not kill him, why don’t we just drive him up to Langley and this is all over?” Zane said, sounding almost excited.
    Julian shook his head. “Please. If you deliver me to them, my life is over. Whether I’m alive or dead, they will own me again.”
    Ty met the Irishman’s eyes, a pang of familiarity running through him. He knew what that claustrophobic fear felt like. No one deserved to be pressed into service.
    “Can’t we just… disappear?” Cameron asked.
    They all looked at him with the same mixture of sadness and contempt. There was no disappearing if you had something the CIA wanted.
    “If someone doesn’t go in to clear all this up, they will never stop following you, Cam,” Zane said. He looked at Julian. “You know that.”
    “That’s why I’m here,” Preston said, stoic as ever.
    “No,” Julian said immediately.
    “There’s really nothing to argue over, sir.”
    “What?” Cameron asked.
    “Preston intends to turn himself into the CIA in my stead.”
    “What? Why does it have to be one of us?” Cameron asked, a little plaintive.
    “The only solution is to give them Julian Cross,” Ty murmured. “Or run for the rest of your lives. And Preston is in their books as Julian Cross. Am I right? The two of you shared duties under one codename?”
    Preston nodded.
    “No wonder they thought you were Batman. You were two people.”
    “Antiques dealers don’t play fair,” Julian muttered, voice low and wry.
    “This is not a difficult decision, gentlemen,” Preston told them, voice devoid of emotion. He handed his