Tied Up in Knots (Marshals 3)

Had he seen my badge?

“Sorry, I’m freaking you out. I apologize. I read my cards this morning, and the Knight of Swords was crossing me, and I read that as protective,” he explained before grimacing and nodding to Callahan and Redeker. “These two—not so much with the inspiring faith and loyalty, but you… I get.”

Cards? “I’m still not following.”

He cleared his throat. “The reason I know that things are happening and that I would be okay up until this point is that I’m a medium.”

Oh no. I looked over his head at Callahan and Redeker. “No one briefed me on the fact that he’s psychic.”

He tapped my chest, bringing my attention back to him. “I’m not crazy. My father had the gift, so I have the gift.”

Had. Shit. Orphan trumped whatever my feelings were on psychic ability. “You’re all alone, huh, kid?”

He nodded.

I could see the pain of his past written in those dark, too serious eyes, and I personally knew how it felt. My reserve melted, and I sighed as I realized what was going to happen—what I couldn’t help but do. I decided right then and there. I was taking him back to Chicago whether he wanted to go or not. I was putting his life before mine; I was ready to take a bullet for him.

“Let’s go pack your shit.”

“Okay,” he sighed, smiling at me.

“I thought I’d have to spend a lot of time convincing you.”

“No. Like I said, the cards said you were coming, and I had the Tower card a few days ago, so I told the band I was done, to get ready since, yanno, my life is about to change, and fighting it is just futile.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s why we let everyone know that this was our last gig. My cards are never wrong.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

He rolled his eyes. “Believe what you want, marshal, but I trust you because all the signs say I should, and the path you’re leading me on promises happiness and love.”

“Love, huh?”

He nodded.

“I’m taking you to your love? Is she pretty?”

“He,” I was corrected, “and yes, he is very beautiful.”

Lord. “Show me where you live, kid.”

Callahan and Redeker were looking at me like I had horns growing out of my head. The whole plan of going into the lounge and scoping it out and finding an opportunity to get Hess alone was moot in ten minutes flat. Hess was ready to go, and it couldn’t have been easier. No arm twisting necessary.

Since nothing was ever that simple, it made sense that as soon as we got outside and the bullets started flying—centering on Josue—that things changed quite a bit.

I heard the squeal of tires before I heard the pop-pop-pop of gunfire and a bullet hit the doorframe beside me. I shoved Josue up against the wall, bent over to pull my gun, shielded him with my body, and shouted for everyone to get down, wishing Ian was there with me. Not because I wanted bullets whizzing by his head too, but because he was good in life-and-death situations and always kept me grounded. Like now, I didn’t return fire; I couldn’t. Ian wouldn’t have either. The street was too crowded, so I was hoping that between me yelling and the obvious threat, everyone would use their brains and hit the ground.

As was usual, the opposite happened, and chickens without heads would have been smarter. People never ceased to amaze me with their lack of self-preservation. They ran into the intersection instead of away from it, so I had no choice but to dart out—after warning Hess not to move—into the line of fire and direct the chaos.

“Stay there!” I roared at a woman who thought a better option than remaining crouched down behind a parked car with her daughter was to make a mad dash for a nearby restaurant.

Jesus.

When I pointed at my star, she nodded that she understood and would remain still. A young couple was going to do the same thing—dart out into the open—but I threatened to put them in jail if they moved. They looked horrified.

“He’s trying to save your lives!” Josue yelled.

And of course they listened to the gorgeous aspiring rock star, lifting their hands to let him know they understood. Forget about the badge I’d tucked my shirt behind so it was visible; being law enforcement carried no weight in the face of his cult status.

“Jones!” Callahan yelled as he joined me.

“Cover him!” I ordered, waving at Josue and then bolted into the street with Redeker right on my heels. “Keep them off me!”

“Done!” Redeker thundered back.

The guys in the car shot at us, but we were flying and the distance was sprint short, not what I did in San Francisco just days ago. So the fact that I was able to get to the car and dive inside, on top of the guy sitting there, was not that big of a deal. Redeker being right there with me, launching himself through the driver’s side window and wrestling for the steering wheel, was.