Tied Up in Knots (Marshals 3)

“That’s great news,” I whispered, smiling up at him.

He bent and kissed me once, then again, and finally stretched himself out on top of me and kissed me long and deep. I wrapped my arms around his neck so he couldn’t move.

“I love you so much, and thank you for retiring and planning to marry me, and I just don’t want you to have any regrets, okay? Not any.”

“No,” he whispered, kissing along my jaw. “No, baby, no regrets.”

Man… “honey” and “baby” added to “love.” I was really crazy about the new, solid, confident Ian Doyle I had in my arms. His demeanor, everything was different. Like he felt good in his skin, not worried about what anyone else thought, just grounded and secure. He’d decided who he was going to be, and the happiness was simply rolling off him.

“You look so good.”

“Well, I feel good,” he rumbled before he kissed me again.

I managed to roll him to his back right before Aruna and Janet came up the stairs.

“And people wonder how gay porn could be hot.”

“Who wonders if gay porn is hot?” Janet asked her seriously.

Ian got up—to much whining from all of us—and explained to the girls that we were not there to entertain them and told me he’d be back.

They got in bed with me, on each side, and we cuddled as I promised I was fine, just exhausted. I really wanted to go downstairs as soon as I could stand and not get dizzy. I could sit up, but that was as far as I could get.

Ned showed up around three, came pounding up the stairs like a pissed-off rooster, found me propped up on pillows talking to Liam, and got on the bed and hugged me.

“You’re in bed with him,” Liam remarked as he himself was sitting in the chair that had come up with Kohn’s mother and never moved.

“I’m a man confident in his own heterosexuality,” Ned told him. “And besides, it’s really comfy, and I had a long flight.”

We ended up taking a nap together as Liam kept vigil while watching a football game on my iPad.

Margo Cochran, Norris’s wife, whom I hadn’t seen since he and I stopped being partners, came over about four and brought me her special carrot cake that I’d always loved. It was my favorite, not too sweet, moist, and the frosting was thin on the top.

“Why?” I asked as I sat up in bed and looked at her. Becker’s wife, Olivia, had taken it from her when she came upstairs. Olivia was there thanking me for backing up Becker the night of the traffic stop, and I said of course; he was my brother. We were hugging when Margo was allowed up by Aruna, who had made herself guardian of the stairs.

“Because if you hadn’t made Nor pay for what he did to you, he would’ve been home, and my kids would have no father and me no husband.”

I nodded because there was no doubt in my mind. Hartley had stopped first for Cochran, to end things with him.

“We’re moving to Boston when he gets back. I didn’t give him no choice.”

It wouldn’t matter. If Hartley wanted Cochran, he’d get him eventually. But I would put money on the fact that with Hartley changing his mind about killing me, his desire to gut Cochran might also have fallen by the wayside.

“So, uhm, can I….” She lifted her arms in question.

“Yeah, come on, let’s go.”

She dived onto the bed and hugged the hell out of me.

“Oh, he looks like a good hugger,” Olivia commented and she was next—after passing the carrot cake back to Margo—which was how Becker found us a few minutes later.

“I’m not even gonna ask,” he sighed, and then pointed at the baking dish Margo was back in possession of. “Is that carrot?”

She beamed up at him. “It is.”

“Carrot’s my favorite.”

“Well, let me cut you a piece.” She sighed, turning for the stairs. “Come with me.”

“I think another woman tempted your husband away with food,” I informed Olivia as I watched them go.

“They all do try, but I have a secret weapon.”

“Which is?”

She arched a sinful eyebrow for me.

“No, no, no, don’t tell me.”

Her cackle was just the right amount of evil and fun.

Ian led his father and stepmother up the stairs to the loft sometime around six. She took a seat in the chair and Colin stood next to his son. It was awkward, but they talked about Chickie and what a good dog he was, and then about Lorcan and when his trial was and how much they’d love it if Ian and I could come for a Sunday dinner sometime soon. Ian promised that we would, without committing to a specific date, and then led them back downstairs so they could eat. He was back a few minutes later.