Twisted and Tied (Marshals 4)

I slowly let Hartley’s hand go and placed both, together, on his chest. He looked like he was resting, peaceful, and when he blurred, I realized my eyes were filling, and I put my face in my hands and let myself cry, in private, and mourn a man no one, even Ian, would understand the why of.

He’d done horrific things to me, but they were mine to forgive, and so I would. Not because he’d saved me. Nothing so cut-and-dry. If he’d left me on the side of the road like he wanted with a “Have a nice life, Miro,” my feelings would be the same. God help me, but he was my friend in some freaky way that made no logical sense.

So I sat there, bawling, chest tight, tears running down my face because Craig Hartley was the first person I’d ever lost who meant something to me, who was close to me and who had altered the course of my life. I had no parents, no birth family, no one besides Ian and the girls and a few other friends who loved me, and none of them had ever died. This serial killer was the first, and so I broke down there beside him in the mud and felt what it was to lose one of the people who’d helped shape the man I’d become.

I was glad the cavalry wasn’t there yet because it was allowing me time to grieve, to pour my tears into the ground and come completely apart. It was fortunate no one was there to see me purge the vault of my heart.

Then a wall of police cars raced by.

“Miro!”

Wiping at my eyes roughly, I took a breath, lifted my head, and saw the row of SUVs stopping beside me and Hartley and Kelson.

“Holy shit,” Ian gasped as he climbed out of the passenger-side door and charged over to me, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around me.

I couldn’t breathe, and I was pretty sure he crushed my ribs. But that was okay because he was there, solid and warm, and as long as I was in his arms at the end of things, I called that a win.

“Oh, baby, what happened?”

But I couldn’t, not quite yet. All of it too much to vocalize at the moment.

He held me to his heart, kissed my eyes, my cheeks, the line of my jaw, and then brushed his mouth over mine. I wanted more, and he murmured a promise of showing me how much I was loved when we got home.

When the Feds arrived along with CPD, Ian helped me to my feet because no way could I walk alone. I couldn’t watch them touch Hartley, didn’t want to see whatever they were going to do with him, so I didn’t look back when Ian put me in the back behind the passenger seat. Eli was driving, and even as Stigler walked toward the SUV, he pulled out and whipped the SUV around, doing a U-turn in the middle of the road leading to the Chicago Executive Airport in Wheeling where Hartley had been headed.

“He saved me,” I said to Ian and Eli—and Ryan and Dorsey, who were also in the SUV—new tears coming fast. “I—Kelson tried to kill me, and Hartley…. He saved me.”

No one said a word.

“He took the bullets that Kelson fired at me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ian croaked, turning in his seat to give me his hand.

“Only you, Jones,” Ryan sighed, and when I glanced over at him, he was smiling ruefully. “I don’t know anyone but you who gets saved by a serial killer.”

We rode the rest of the way back to the office in silence.

Once there, Ian went with me to one of the smaller meeting rooms, where a forensic team met us.

He left to get me a set of sweats while the supervisor and two others stripped me down to my underwear, combed mud from my hair, scraped blood from under my nails, and shot an endless amount of pictures of me from every imaginable angle. It didn’t take long, but I was shivering by the time they were done. Ian came in once they finished, pulled the sweatshirt down over my head, and helped me into the pants before he lunged and wrapped me up tight.

I hugged him back so hard I pulled a groan from deep in his chest.

“You’re alive and you’re here with me,” he whispered into my hair. “As soon as you’re done talking to the Feds, I’m gonna take you home, and we’re gonna wreck the bed, all right?”

I nodded into his shoulder. Not that I didn’t always want him, but now I needed him. I needed his warmth over me, around me, in me…. I was cold to my core, and only Ian could make me me again.