All Kinds of Tied Down (Marshals 1)

“Which one? I can call up for you; check if he’s here this late.”

“He is, because, again, we scheduled a meeting. And it’s Duncan Stiel.”

After a moment, Bridger chuckled. “Oh, you mean the billionaire’s boyfriend?”

Big. Mistake. Ian wished he could scowl with such icy contempt. Bridger actually swallowed.

“No,” Kage said flatly. “I mean the highly decorated homicide detective.”

Bridger coughed.

“Fifth floor, you said.”

“Yes.”

“I can find him myself.”

Bridger remained silent.

His gaze landed back on me. “Hospital.”

As though I would disregard a direct order from the man. “Yessir.”

Kage glanced at Ian and then turned and strode out of the room. People scuttled out of his way as he moved down the corridor we could see through the glass windows on the far side of the room.

“He’s sort of intense,” Bridger commented. “That’s gotta be loads of fun.”

“That’s true,” Ian agreed. “But lemme tell you, when you’re stuck somewhere, there isn’t anyone you’d rather have either coming for you himself or insisting someone else get off their ass and ride to your rescue.”

“Yeah,” I said, chuckling. “The term ‘moving heaven and earth,’ that was made for him.”

“It was,” Ian agreed. He glanced at Bridger. “Is he done? Because we have to make our second trip to the hospital in so many days.”

“When’d you break that?” Bridger asked, tipping his head at the cast on my wrist.

“Two days ago.”

“Holy shit. How?”

I repeated his motion but tipped mine at Ian.

“Oh.”

“Fuck you, M. Let’s go.”

I started laughing and Bridger widened his eyes.

“So all you marshals are a little on the scary side.”

“Hell yeah,” I said as Ian hauled me to my feet.

“And you all gotta have the same haircut? Even your boss?”

Kage’s cut was basically military, above the collar in the back and around the ears. Ian’s was shorter since he still served in the Army Reserve. My hair was longer and thicker and I put product in it to make it messy and stand up. But we had a dress code that our immaculately put-together boss vigilantly enforced.

“We have to all look alike so the bad guys can’t tell us apart.”

“Uh-huh,” Bridger said, nodding like I was nuts.

In the elevator, I found I was a little light-headed.

“Hold on to me.”

Putting a hand on Ian’s shoulder, I followed him out of the police station.

“Don’t jump out of any more open windows,” he ordered when I stumbled.

“Tired of getting in trouble with the boss?” I baited him.

“Keep pushing it. I think that’d be a wise decision.”

I was being an ass. “I’m sorry. I promise.”

“C’mere,” he huffed, putting an arm around my waist as he walked me to the car.

AT THE hospital, I realized it was after nine and I was not a little hungry, but a lot. There was a 24/7 diner across the street, and after a few minutes of prodding, begging, and whining, Ian begrudgingly got up and left to get us both some food.

The nurse who saw me while he was gone, Arlene, was nice. She checked to make sure my pupils weren’t dilated, moved on to my reflexes, and was concerned about the cuts and contusions. I explained that those were old.

“Old?”

“From earlier.”

Arlene was confused until I explained that I’d just been there two days ago. Once she had my chart, she checked the cast on my left wrist as I explained how I was actually Spider-Man.

“You know, most people who break bones take it easy for a few days afterwards, Marshal.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Are you sure?”

“You think I have a concussion?”

“Among other things.”

“Why ya say it like that?”

“Because there’s obviously something deeply wrong with you,” Arlene snapped.

“It’s his brain,” Ian said as he walked in with a tray of shakes, burgers, onion rings, shoe-string fries, and bottled water.

“The diner let you take that out?”

“The food?” He was confused.

“The tray, idiot.”

“Like anyone’s gonna say shit to me.”

Arlene promptly scolded him. “You can’t have that in here.”

He pushed back his jacket so she could see the badge on his belt.

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” Arlene said flatly.

“I’ll give you my shake if you drop it.”

The shakes were huge, so it worked out fine. He and I drank the chocolate and she had the strawberry.

She drew blood, listened to my heart, and took my blood pressure, and when I was wheeled back from Radiology after being X-rayed, Ian was lying on my bed, watching a basketball game and finishing up the fries.

“We should go get dessert after this,” he said before belching.

“Did you call Emma?” I asked, waving him off the bed so I could get in.

“Didn’t have to,” he said, holding out his iPhone to me, not taking his eyes off the game.

Putting it on speaker, Arlene and I listened to Emma Finch break up with my partner. She was hurt, angry, and even though it turned out that neither she nor her brother were going to jail, there would probably be a ridiculous amount of community service performed.