“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I baited him, hearing my own breath, my vision tunneling down to only Kelson.
I swore I could hear the click of my watch on my wrist as I looked into Kelson’s eyes, which he narrowed in cold fury. It was almost possible to taste the hatred in the air between us.
“Gun!”
The fact that nothing changed in Kelson’s eyes as he pulled his Glock told me something scary. His focus was solely on me; no one else mattered. He wanted me dead.
Had Kelson done his homework, he would have known better than to try to hurt me while Ian was standing right beside me. He also would have learned that, being a Green Beret, Ian had no delay in his reaction time. So he yanked me out of the way before Kelson even figured out what was happening.
“No!” Kelson howled as Ian hurled him to the ground and pinned him there with a knee in his back while Becker trapped Kelson’s hand under his right foot. I was on the ground, dragged to my knees by Eli, and I distantly noted the Magnanni punch-trim cap-toe oxfords he was wearing.
It was weird, and I’d had it happen before. When Hartley was cutting my back open to remove a rib, I watched blood splatter his Cole Haan brogue medallion double monkstrap brown shoes. They were images I held on to and again, in this moment, I had focused on the mundane.
“I have a pair like that,” I told Eli, turning to look at him.
“I have a pair of Magnanni calfskin chukka boots that are really comfortable,” he offered since we were just shootin’ the shit and all. “You should get some.”
I nodded.
“Miro!” Ian snarled.
I snapped my head up and faced a glare that should have stopped my heart. Me being in danger had scared him to death.
“I’m good,” I told him.
“I’m going to—”
“Freeze!”
The federal agents drew their weapons in rapid succession, a chain reaction that made no sense because the threat was already dealt with.
Ian turned to face them, and I realized that in the confusion, the Feds assumed Ian had attacked Kelson without provocation. I didn’t want to get shot accidentally, so I stayed on the ground with Eli as the FBI held guns on us.
It was one of those insane standoff situations.
I thought it would be Becker’s voice that boomed out, or even Adair’s, so I was surprised when it turned out to be Ian.
“Put your guns down,” he ordered, his voice deep and thunderous. “Your man attacked a deputy US marshal. His gun’s on the floor and—Adair! Call off your men!”
“Stand down,” Adair yelled, using both hands to signal everyone to lower their weapons as he moved closer to us, holstering his own.
“Eli.”
He looked up at Ian.
“Take him.”
He moved quickly, changing places with Ian, his knee now between Kelson’s shoulder blades as Ian stood slowly and put up his hands, not offering any threat to Adair or his men but clearly in control.
“Fuck,” Adair growled, clearly flustered and embarrassed by the fact that his men weren’t listening to him. “Put your goddamn guns away now!”
And then, finally, looking at Ian standing there with his hands up, the rest of the marshals poised to act, Adair’s men all slowly, one by one, holstered their guns.
“For the record,” Eli said snidely to Adair as he dragged Kelson to his feet, “if any of us took that long to lower our guns once the chief deputy gave us a direct order, we’d be suspended for days or weeks and then demoted.”
Adair muttered something under his breath.
Becker passed handcuffs to Eli. None of the rest of us carried them; we carried zip ties in our TAC vests—which none of us were wearing at the moment because the plan was that we were looking at a crime scene, not apprehending anyone.
“I guess with my new position, I’ll carry cuffs again,” I mentioned to no one in particular.
Once the room took a collective breath, Eli spun Kelson around to face me as Adair moved up beside me.
“No,” Ian barked, snapping his fingers, making sure Kelson, Adair, Eli, anyone close by was looking at him, not me. “We have no idea what’s been contaminated at this crime scene because of him.”
Which was true.
“So we’re going to have CPD take this over until we figure out what’s going on. Everybody clear out.”
I saw Becker nod, and I thought, but wasn’t sure, I saw a faint smile. “You heard him,” Becker said, his voice carrying throughout the room. “Everyone get back to the office but me and Doyle.”
Instantaneous movement, a far cry from what had happened with Adair’s men.
“Dorsey, secure Kelson—”
“We’ll take him,” Adair barked, reaching for Kelson.
“No,” Becker cut him off, signaling to Dorsey, who moved fast, taking custody of Kelson. “We clear this attack on Jones first, and then you guys can have him and take his brain apart.”