All Kinds of Tied Down (Marshals 1)

“There will come a morning when you’ll open your eyes and I’ll be there with you,” Hartley whispered, the middle finger of his right hand inches from my face.

“Not fuckin’ likely,” I grunted, leaning back, the tie running through his hand like water before I stood up. “We’ll save your sister and her family.”

His smile made his eyes glimmer. “The things you think I care about, Miro.”

I moved through the crowd of agents to the door.

“Do take care of yourself,” Hartley added.

I knocked on the heavy steel door.

“I’ll see you in July when it’s hot.”

“Yes, you will,” I agreed as the door opened and I slipped out.

Looking back in at the room, I watched Hartley as more questions were fired at him, but he went silent, facing them with dead eyes until finally the guard announced it was time for him to be returned to his cell.

I was suddenly ridiculously thankful that I’d driven and didn’t have to wait on the FBI agents so I could leave. I thought about the last time I had made the trip out to Elgin.

That day I had felt the bile rise in my throat and bolted down the hallway as I pulled my phone from the breast pocket of my suit jacket. There was only one person I wanted to talk to.

“Hey,” came the gravelly voice over the line. “You almost done in there?”

“Why? Where are you?”

“Outside.”

He was there. All I had to do was reach him.

“You drove out?” I asked as I was buzzed through the inner door and then the outer one, leading down the corridor that separated solitary from general population.

“Yeah. I figured you needed backup.”

“I do,” I agreed, speeding up, wanting out, needing out. “I’ll be hungry after, I always am.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I barf.”

“I would too.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice cracking as I was allowed through another three doors. Each one had to open and close before the next could. And while the security measures were impressive, I could barely breathe. “I’m almost there.”

“Miro?”

I dragged in a breath. “Yeah. I’m here.”

The line was silent as I passed through another two doors. I didn’t see the warden, which was fine. He was probably waiting to say good-bye to the feds. I was just a marshal; he saw us all the time.

Ending the call, I collected my gun, badge, and keys on the other side of the metal detector and jogged to the front door. Hitting the panic bar, I was outside on the steps moments later. Not stopping, I rushed down the stairs and vomited into the trash can. Moments later I was passed a bottle of water and napkins and a hand pressed between my shoulder blades.

“You okay?”

I nodded, still bent over, shivering.

Ian rubbed gentle circles on my back and then, because I was sweating, pushed my hair out of my face as I straightened up. “You’re gonna be okay. Rinse out your mouth and I’ll get you some pancakes. Breakfast cures everything.”

But it wasn’t eggs or toast or hash browns I needed, it was Ian.

I needed Ian.

That was almost two years ago. And today, as I crashed through the last door to the outside and ran down the same stairs and heaved up my spleen, he wasn’t there.

No grounding touch, no rough caress.

No rumbling voice.

No cocky grin that said he could make it better by sheer force of will.

I missed him, and some days it felt like my chest was full of pins every time I took a breath. And on even worse days, I had to talk to a serial killer because I was the only one he liked well enough to converse with.

My breakfast and lunch were all gone in one shot, my stomach left clenching as I made sure I was done before I moved.

“What the fuck, man,” a guy who passed me moaned. “That’s fuckin’ gross.”

“Shut the hell up,” a woman snapped at him, closing in on me with a tub of baby wipes in one hand and a toddler on her hip. “Here you go, shug, clean yourself up.”

It was nice. I thanked her profusely, and when I reached my car, I smelled lavender fresh. I’d left a bottle of water in the front seat, which was good, because I needed to rinse my mouth out. Gargle. I toyed with the idea of either running home or to the office to get into my locker. In either place there was a toothbrush and toothpaste.

As I contemplated where I was going, my phone beeped, and I saw Kohn’s name appear on the display.

“Hey, I—”

“Where the fuck are you?”

I cleared my throat. “I’m out at Elgin.”

“That was this morning?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re with me today and we’re on transport. Hurry up and report to the office so we can get our assignment.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Good,” he said and hung up.