All Kinds of Tied Down (Marshals 1)

I would so hear it from White later; the smirk told me so. “Yeah, kid, I know. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be okay.”

Ian leaned forward and put his hand up over the back of Drake’s chair, and Drake immediately grabbed it, squeezed, and then let go.

“Take a breath,” Ian directed.

“Okay,” he said, then turned around in his chair and got comfortable.

I had never put the armrest down between Ian and me, so once both Drake and White were facing forward, Ian slid his hand down my thigh.

Turning to him, I saw the scowl. “What?”

“You got shot at again.”

“Yeah, well,” I croaked, realizing I had to have a very serious conversation with him. “That’s gonna keep happening since I’m a federal marshal.”

His brows furrowed and the scowl changed to his normal glower.

“Stop,” I ordered, sliding my fingers through his on my thigh, flattening his hand, holding it pressed tight against me. “Listen.”

All his focus was on me, and he waited, calming simply because I was touching him. Who knew that, all those times when Ian was bouncing off the walls, all he needed was for me to reach out and hold his hand?

“You’re gonna live with me, yeah?”

Boom.

That fast, his eyes darkened with heat. “You said I could.”

“Well, then I gotta tell the man sitting in first class.”

I don’t know what I expected, but Ian thinking a moment and then nodding wasn’t it.

“Ian?”

“Yeah,” he said huskily. “Good. So that way he’ll stop asking you if you want a new partner and leave it alone.”

“You knew about that?”

“’Course,” he said as I moved my hand, letting him go.

“How come you never said anything?”

“Because you always talk for both of us.”

“You know if I didn’t love you, I’d kill you,” I grumbled, getting up after seeing Kage had finished with Cabot.

I passed the younger man, gave him a quick pat on the back, and was almost to the seat beside Kage when it hit me.

I went almost light-headed with the realization of what I’d said to Ian Doyle.

Holy shit.

“Jones?”

Looking down at Kage instead of back toward my partner, I flopped into the seat beside him.

“I actually wanted Ford next, not you.”

My gaze met his, and I noticed, as always, that meeting his stare was not that easy. He was an intense man, and being his entire focus was slightly unnerving.

“Jones?”

I took a settling breath and jumped. “I’m gay.”

Nothing.

“Boss?”

“Yes, Jones,” he said, sounding so very bored.

“You heard me, right?”

“I did,” he said patiently.

I cleared my throat. “Ian, he—he’s gonna move in with me.”

He squinted. “And?”

“I—we—thought you should know.”

“Because?”

“Well, I mean, you’ve gotta be thinking, if we’re in a relationship and it goes south, what does that do for your partnership?”

“Why would that concern me? It should concern you.”

“I—”

“If things go south, you’re the ones who have to deal with the fact that you’re partners and stuck together. I’m not getting how that’s my problem?”

It was all so… composed. Kage was acting like it was no big deal, like people came out to him at work every day. All of it perfectly normal.

“So you’re okay with—”

“Is there anything else, Jones?”

I coughed. “No sir.”

“May I speak to Mr. Ford now?”

“Yessir.”

“Excellent,” he said sarcastically as I stood up slowly.

I couldn’t stop staring at him.

“I’m aging here, Jones.”

“Yessir,” I muttered, turning and leaving, making my way back to where Cabot was sitting beside Drake. “Hey, Drake, my boss would like a word.”

He was frightened; it was there on his face.

“It’s no big deal, I swear.”

He got up, White took his spot, and I flopped down next to Ian. Immediately, his hand was on my thigh, gripping tight.

“So?” Ian prodded.

“Your boss could care less.”

His smile came slowly as I shook my head. “I knew it.”

“You knew what?”

“That Sam Kage was not the kind of man who cared about us outside of work.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

“He cares about the kind of job we do, not about who we do away from it.”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning as he let his head bump against the back of his seat.

“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “What’d Emma want?”

He turned to look at me blankly. “What?”

“I heard you say ‘Emma’ when you were on the phone back at the airport.”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t Emma. That was Jocelyn, a friend of hers.”

“And? Don’t make me dig.”

“She, uhm,” he began, his voice low and rough, “wanted to have dinner to make sure I was okay.”

“How sweet,” I said curtly.

He took my hand in his, lacing his fingers through mine. “But I can’t have dinner with her. I’m busy, right?”

“From now on, yeah.”

He squeezed my hand for a second.

“You like me saying that.”

“I do,” he growled, and the sound slithered right through me to my cock.

“Jesus,” I mumbled, shifting in my seat, my jeans suddenly very tight.

“Call Aruna when we land and see if she and Liam can keep Chickie one more night.”