Tied Up in Knots (Marshals 3)

“It was years ago,” he whispered, kissing the side of my neck. It was a favorite spot because he liked the feel of my skin and the scent. “Keep it in mind.”

“It won’t help,” I said, putting a hand on the side of his face, holding him there.

Turning his head, he kissed my palm and then leaned back. “I love you too, M,” he muttered as the guys crowded around us. “Okay, so, I’ve got to go to the office before we go listen to crappy music.”

“Yes!” Ryan cheered.

“Shit,” Dorsey groaned, letting his head fall forward.

“I’m gonna drink a lot,” Ching announced as he thumped down the front steps. “Not even kidding, just so you guys are prepared.”

“He’s kind of an ass when he drinks,” Becker chimed in.

“We know!” I yelled out along with everyone else.

Ching flipping us all off was the best thing that had happened all day.

Chapter 9

SHARPE AND White, two other members of our team, were on duty when the six of us made it downtown to our office in the Dirksen Federal Building. Becker and Ching went to check on a warrant they’d put out on a drug trafficker, Dorsey and Ryan got on the phone with Homeland Security on a terrorism task force inquiry, and Ian and I sat at his desk and logged in to look for Kerry Lochlyn, a guy Ian served with four years ago when he was on active duty in Afghanistan.

“So what’s the deal with this guy?” I asked as the computer hunted for the guy through every database we had access to.

“I dunno,” Ian said as he typed and read what came up on the screen to prompt him for more information. “I thought he came home and got help.”

“But you didn’t know. You didn’t follow up.”

“We weren’t friends.”

“How long was he with you?”

“Six months, I think.”

“Do you remember what happened with him?”

“Not exactly,” he said, still typing. “We were out on patrol one night and—”

“Who was?”

“Me, Delaney, Odell, Bates, Regan, Laird, and Lochlyn.”

“Okay, and?”

“He freaked out.”

“About what?”

Ian had to think a second. “I remember me and the other guys were talking to some locals and he just lost his shit.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “It gets scary, right? Day after day you never know who to trust, can’t tell who wants to kill you and who just wants to mind their own business.”

It was second nature, a reality of life for him and a terrifying possibility for me.

“I remember he was yelling at this guy and his wife—or his mother, I don’t remember—but a little kid went over to him, and she came up behind Lochlyn, and he started screaming.”

“Did he hurt anyone?”

“No, because we got him outta there. Delaney took him back to base with Regan, and the rest of us stayed and finished up the patrol.”

“So you don’t know what went on from when they left you to when Lochlyn got put on a plane for home.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Could he have been given a second chance?”

“I think that might’ve been it already. I seem to recall him freaking out before, and Delaney let it slide.”

“But Delaney had a choice.”

“Sure. Keep him there with us or send him home.”

“And so he went home.”

“Yeah. I mean, he had a meltdown; it wasn’t something he was going to get over so Delaney made the call.”

“Did he have to?”

He turned in his chair to look at me. “These are people’s lives at stake, M. Lochlyn’s carrying a big-ass gun and walking through towns with kids and old people. What if his paranoia got the better of him and he killed someone?”

“But what if all he needed was a little help?”

“No, it was more than that. You get to a place where you can tell the guys who are gonna make it. He wasn’t, and Delaney knew it too.”

“Did you ever see him again after that night?”

Ian was quiet a second. “No. I never did.”

“So it’s very possible that if this guy, Lochlyn, had a hard time when he got home and blames Delaney for sending him, that he also blames you for not sticking up for him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he agreed with a grimace.

“What?”

He glanced at me. “That’s kind of a stretch, isn’t it?”

“How?”

“Delaney sent Lochlyn home, and now he’s out to get us?”

“You said he was unstable.”

“Yeah, but once he got back here to the world, maybe everything righted itself.”

“Or not,” I said, playing devil’s advocate. “And if he never saw you again, he would assume that you’re still in that unit.”

“Probably.”

“You’re not buying it.”

“Not really, no.”

“Why not?”

“Lots of guys have a hard time over there, and I’d say most of them come home and get help.”

“But you don’t know what he came home to.”

“No, I don’t, and—shit,” he growled before leaning back in the chair and gesturing at the screen. “This certainly isn’t helping.”