All Kinds of Tied Down (Marshals 1)

“No, that’s okay. You can bring him on Monday.”

“Okay, good.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“You missed me, huh,” he said, like, of course I had. He was so arrogant.

“I did,” I confessed, because that was my place in the partnership. I said it so he didn’t have to. It was how we worked. “I really did.” It was so good to hear his voice, to be able to talk to him whenever I wanted. “You think you’ll have to go again right away?”

“I hope not.”

There were no guarantees with Ian. “Okay.”

He cleared his throat. “So, you do anything more exciting than leaping off balconies while I was gone?”

“Actually,” I said playfully, “I’m saving that for you. We can do that again when you get home.”

Silence.

“Did I lose you?” He was in Hawaii, after all, maybe some hot girl in a bikini had walked by and he bailed on me.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What?”

“You said you’re saving that for me?”

Oh, he was listening. “For us, yeah. I think it should be our thing now. I’m sure the boss’ll be thrilled.”

“Yeah, no. That should not be our thing,” he said, all serious.

“Hey, so you know, White’s okay too.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, ’cause he was in a coma.”

“He was—what?”

“I, however, was not in a coma, merely sleeping. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“I’m—you were… what?”

“What’re you doing?” Kowalski asked as he rolled his chair over to me. “You need to get that done so we can go pick up our witness.”

“I can’t find my mouse.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Kowalski,” I answered Ian.

“Who’s that?”

“Doyle,” I answered Kowalski.

Kowalski motioned for me to give him the phone, and I handed it off as I checked my wastebasket. Why the mouse was in there, sitting on top of the paper, I had no idea.

“Who keeps fuckin’ around at my desk?” I yelled out to the room.

The denials came fast and furious. A whole room of people who’d never even sat in my chair. Right.

“Shot,” Kowalski said gruffly. “Twice. Yeah, him and White. Ching too, but you know Wes. You’d have to, like, run him over or something. He was out of the hospital while your boy and White were still in surgery.”

I got the page I needed opened and started to type while Kowalski kept talking to Ian.

“He lost a fuckton of blood but he saved the witness. I think all four of them—what? Oh, yeah, Kohn, too, he was good with the diversion, gave Jones time to get the witness out.”

“What was the name of the auto shop Nina and I ran into?” I asked Kowalski.

“Like I would know. Look it up.”

Silence.

“What?” He was still talking to Ian. “Yeah, he’s good, all in one piece except for his boots, apparently. I swear to God, Kohn’s the same fuckin’ way. How do you deal with all the whining about the clothes?”

I snickered as he passed me my phone and rolled away. “Hey, so—”

“Shot?” He sounded like he was going to hyperventilate. “You got shot? Again?”

“Yeah I—”

“Were you wearing your vest?”

I nearly choked. “Me? Of course I was wea—”

“Why didn’t somebody call me?”

“Uhm,” I began, chuckling, “how were they supposed to do that, Mr. Green Beret, sir?”

“Fuck!”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, all is well with the world, except, ya know, I was stuck at home for a week and then riding my desk the next, but in all that time, I still haven’t finished this paperwork. Don’t get shot, it’s a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“Miro—”

“And before that I had to go out to Elgin and—”

“You had to go see Hartley?”

“Yeah.”

“When was this?”

“Before I got shot,” I repeated. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, I’m—did anyone go with you?” He sounded pained.

“No.”

“Shit.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“Ian—”

“Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

I was so confused. “Sorry?”

“Do you or do you not need me there?”

I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me, and so there was the possibility that we were talking about two completely different things. Like maybe I was trying to make him feel better about not being there, and all he wanted to hear was that I missed him and wanted him home. Without looking into his beautiful eyes, it was difficult to guess. “Yeah,” I husked, letting the wave of aching, devouring need infuse my voice for a moment. “I need you here.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, so I gotta go get on the plane, but, uhm, I’ll see you in the morning, all right?”

“Ian, don’t do—”

“I wanna see you!”

It took a bit for his words to sink in. He wanted to see me?

“Okay? Is that fine?” he snapped irritably.

It was so much more than fine. “Yeah, that’s good.”

We were both quiet a moment.

“It was weird.”

“What was?” I prodded, wanting to hear whatever he was thinking about. Whenever he opened up about anything, I wanted to know.

“I kept looking at the guys that were with me and thinking: if Miro was here, he would’ve done this or said that or whatever.”