All Kinds of Tied Down (Marshals 1)

“That’s how she breaks up with him?”

I made a face. “I can probably fix it up,” I apprised Arlene.

“Don’t do that,” Ian said, and both the nurse and I turned to him. “It’s fine.”

“You’re grieving inside,” Arlene offered.

“And you’re in shock,” I added.

“Nope,” he grunted. “But I could use a beer.”

I turned to Arlene.

“You shouldn’t have any beer,” she said, voice firm.

“Gotta take a piss,” Ian announced before he got up and left the room.

“He’s super,” Arlene said sarcastically.

I was still laughing when the doctor finally showed up fifteen minutes later. After three long hours, I was discharged after midnight with a bill for tests and procedures that would have made me gasp if I didn’t work for the federal government. The staggering amount was completely covered since it had been incurred during the performance of my duties.

“Remind me never to get hurt when I’m not at work.”

Ian wasn’t listening; the only part he cared about was that I was cleared to return to work the following day. I ended up being none the worse for wear for having sailed through the air without a trapeze or a net.

“I can have a beer.” I chuckled.

He threw an arm around my neck and tugged me close. “You scared the fuck out of me.”

“I know.”

“Don’t.”

“Okay.”

“You’re the solid part of this.”

Of us, he meant—I was the solid part of us. And I knew that too.

“You gotta be you, and I’ll be me.”

“Agreed,” I said, smiling as we got on the elevator.

“And so we’re clear,” he husked, turning to meet my gaze. “She’s fucking Phil.”

I squinted at him, because I’d obviously missed something. “What?”

“Emma,” he said with a slight smile. “She’s been fucking that guy Phil who was there tonight. This is just a nice excuse to kick me to the curb.”

“No.”

He nodded.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie? It puts me in a bad light since obviously I wasn’t enough for her.”

“Wait,” I grumbled, tugging on his shoulder, getting him to turn to face me. “How do you know this?”

He shrugged. “I know.”

“That’s bullshit. You don’t know.”

He passed me his phone. I took it as we got out of the elevator and headed toward the front door. On his camera roll were several pictures of Emma at dinner with the man I remembered seeing at the party, however briefly. They leaned close, held hands, and left the restaurant Bravo together. The next grouping was in a cab, then outside his Greystone, and finally through a window, catching them clinging together. No intuitive leaps needed.

“We never said it was exclusive,” he informed me as we reached the street and he rounded on me. “She’s technically not cheating on me, but I don’t want to sleep with someone who’s sleeping with someone else.”

“Of course not.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“But she could just be honest.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

“Who took these?”

“I did.”

“You stalked your own girlfriend?” I asked, taking hold of him.

“I was gathering intel,” he defended, stepping in closer so my arm went from being stretched out to folded against me, my hand flat on his torso.

“To show who?” I managed to get out, minutely aware of the rippling abs under the soft cotton, fighting to not curl my fingers into the material.

“You,” he said, smirking, crowding into me as people leaving the building pushed by us.

Before I thought about what I was doing, I slid my hand up over the solid muscled chest, the shot of Demerol making me braver than normal. “Let’s go get a drink.”

“No,” he yawned, leaning down and pressing his forehead into my shoulder for a second before lifting free. “Let’s go get some pie.”

Pie sounded better. “Okay.”

“We’ll get it to go and eat it on your couch.”

“You really like my couch,” I sighed, because I loved that he liked being at my place.

“I do,” he admitted. “It’s a good couch. I’ve never had a nightmare on it.”

That was a very good thing.

Chapter 6

WE STOPPED on the way back to my place, picking up pumpkin pie for me and chocolate cream for him and then clothes for him for the morning. He fell asleep halfway through Die Hard, and I covered him up. When the movie was over, I got up to rinse dishes, and he was completely stretched out when I got back, throw pillow under his head, dead to the world. Amazing how vulnerable he looked when he was sleeping. I wondered how Emma could bear to be parted from him.

I took his phone with me when I went upstairs. It was a small townhouse with a loft above the main floor at the top of the stairs where my bed stood along with a nightstand and a vintage industrial lamp. I’d found that lamp in an abandoned building when I was fifteen and kept it with me ever since. Even moving between foster homes, I managed not to lose it, certain that someday both it and I would have a home.