Tied Up in Knots (Marshals 3)

Chickie was very happy to see me, as evidenced by the whining and whimpering, the rolling on his back on top of me, and the tongue bath my face got, which hurt like hell.

“Aruna!” I groused, trying to get Chickie off.

“Jesus, it looks like he’s getting ready to eat you,” Kowalski said, clearly enjoying the show. “That hurts, huh?”

I growled at him.

“That’s disgusting,” Kohn choked out, the revulsion thick in his voice. “Dog slobber.”

“Eat him, Chick,” I ordered, pointing at Kohn.

“The hell, man,” Aruna’s husband, big and burly and blond built-like-a-tank Liam Duffy said as he strode over to the couch. One-handed, he moved Chickie and then sat me up to study my face. He was a fireman, not an EMT, but he knew first aid.

“I think we need to get you to a hospital,” he concluded as he studied me, even as Chickie thunked his head down in my lap. “That’s a lot of bruising on your cheek and eye, buddy. You may have some broken bones.”

I scratched the mutant dog’s ears, under his chin, and then stroked his head over and over, telling him what a good boy he was. His tail thumping the floor sounded like an outboard motor, as fast as it was going. “Nothing’s broken,” I promised. “Seriously. It might look bad because everything shows up on my skin, but I’m good.”

“Miro Jones!” Aruna yelled. “Do not tell me you’re not hurt and blame it on your beautiful milky complexion with the fabulous rose undertones.”

Silence. Both Kohn and Kowalski were staring at me like I’d grown another head.

“She’s a journalist,” Liam explained. “Her business is specific words.”

“Huh,” Kohn said.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, smiling to try to get her to stop biting her bottom lip and not look at me like I was dying. “I promise. I just need more ice.”

“Your lip’s split, your right eye’s black and blue, and—”

“I swear to you I’m perfectly fine.”

She caught her breath, shoved her daughter at her husband, and flung herself down into my arms. We both grunted seconds later as Chickie climbed on top of us, and Sajani clapped her hands from Liam’s arms.

He was going to crush us.

“Get the monster dog off me,” I begged Liam.

After passing Sajani to Kohn, he hauled Chickie off and took him into the kitchen to find him a treat.

I was going to reiterate that everything was okay when my phone rang. “Lookit,” I told Aruna. “It’s Janet.”

Snatching the phone from me, turning so she was now in my lap, she answered it after putting it on speaker. “Dammit, Janet.”

It was always the same, even after so many years. It was all our friend Min’s fault, since she was the one who dragged us all to the Rocky Horror Picture Show a hundred years ago when we were all still in college.

“Why are you answering pretty boy’s phone?” Janet Powell asked, snickering as she said it.

“You’re rude and mean,” I informed one of my oldest and dearest friends. “So what the hell do you want?”

“Hold on,” she ordered, and then we heard buttons being pressed.

“I just got in bed,” Min Kwon groused from the other end of the line. “Do you know what time it is here in LA? Why are you calling me so early in the goddamn morning?”

“Hi, Min,” I singsonged to her, cackling.

“Minnie, honey,” Aruna cooed. “Howya doin’?”

“Miro?” She sounded exasperated and surprised at the same time. “Aruna?”

“Why’re you just gettin’ to bed?” I grilled her. “Been in poundtown with some guy all night?”

“Shut. Up,” she snarled. “I’ve been going through discovery on a case since—”

“Janet, what the hell?” Catherine Benton almost shrieked over what was now a party line. “How dare you lie and call me out of surgery to—”

“I’m going to have a baby,” she announced breathlessly.

Silence.

“Oh my God.” Min was the first to speak, or cry, as it was, and I knew she was because I could hear the wobble in her voice, the unmistakable sound of brimming-over happiness.

“You’ve been trying so hard,” I said, my voice cracking with the same emotion Min was feeling. “Awww, honey, you did it. You got yourself knocked up.”

The dam broke then, and we were all talking at the same time, all congratulating her, sending love to her husband, and Catherine hit her with medical questions since she was a doctor and needed to know.

Janet and her hubby had been trying for a couple of years with no success. We all teased her—because that was better than the sympathy her husband’s family doled out—and told her he was a sex maniac. But the truth was they had done all the things you had to do when chasing the dream of children through miscarriages and specialists. I had no idea how she stayed so strong and optimistic in the face of that kind of pain, but now, finally, she was being rewarded.