Fit to be Tied (Marshals 2)

All of that I found out once I was outside in the dirt. I had to thank God it was Arizona. If I was home in Chicago, I would have gotten hypothermia. As it was, at eighty degrees or so at night, I didn’t freeze my balls off, even naked as I was, waiting for the cavalry that the lovely Gloria—the 911 operator—told me was coming.

When I saw lights in the distance, because I heard no sirens I moved faster, hobbling, and after Gloria confirmed that her guys were still ten minutes out—I was up in the foothills somewhere—I got down on my hands and knees and crawled as fast as I could. I didn’t care how much it hurt with the rocks cutting into my skin because nothing was as bad as putting any weight on my ankle. I got torn up scrambling over rocks and between bushes and through thorns and branches, and it was dark out there in the desert. I would have used the flashlight app on the phone, because who didn’t have that, but I was still on the emergency call, so it was me feeling around blindly and soon bleeding. Again. More.

I fell down a short ravine and decided to wait there. My adrenaline was shot, my muscles were done, and I could barely get any air moving in my lungs. At least I still had the gun, so whatever got near me I could kill, even a rattlesnake or wild boar or whatever other kind of animal was out here waiting to prey on me, and that included the kind that walked on two legs. I really hadn’t meant to pass out.

AFTER ALL the trouble I went to to get out of the trailer, I was horrified when I woke up with lights in my eyes and Hartley greeting me.

I jolted hard, struggled against the hands helping him hold me down, and shouted at him to let me go.

“I’m not him, marshal! Please,” the voice gasped, and it hit me that maybe we’d been going over this more than this one time I was aware of. “You have to believe me! Open your eyes! Please! Open them!”

If I could just get up….

“Marshal Jones!”

My name… not the fake one, the real one.

“Open your eyes!”

But what if I was dreaming?

Someone brushed my side and the pain was excruciating. I couldn’t hold in the scream.

“Let me in!”

I instantly stilled because I thought I heard—

“Move!”

I was straining to hear, trying to smell him if I could, anything to not open my eyes.

“I swear to—fuckin’ move!”

“Ian!” I shrieked.

After his frustrated roar, I was released. Everyone let go at once, and I would have fallen off the cot or whatever I was on if Ian hadn’t been there to take my face in his hands and kiss me.

I had no idea that one simple kiss could warm my entire body so thoroughly and fast.

His lips pressed to mine before moving to my cheeks, nose, eyes, forehead, and then made the quick trip back. I wanted to put my tongue in his mouth; I wanted to taste him and remember everything that had been taken away in the past few days.

“I’m so glad he didn’t hurt you or—”

“Quiet now,” he ordered.

“Ian,” I whined, my hands on his wrists, holding on for dear life as his breath mixed with mine.

I opened my eyes a slit. I had to see him.

He was tired, I could tell. There were dark circles under the red-rimmed blue eyes I loved; the normal stubble would be better described as a beard given a couple more days, and his hair was a riot. It was clear Ian Doyle had missed me terribly. It was all over him.

“I need you to stay still so they can check you out and run a tox screen and see what the fuck is under this bandage on your side.”

“He bit me.”

Ian cleared his throat. “I can see that.”

“And he choked me.”

“I know.”

“And he operated on me, too, I think.”

Ian bent close to me. “M—”

“It was Wojno, he was the leak!”

“Yeah, the Feds figured that out already.”

“They did? How did—”

“Could you please stop talking and let these nice people do their jobs.”

“Yeah, but you won’t—”

“I won’t what? Go?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“But what if you get a call?”

“Deployment call, you mean,” he said solemnly, leaning in close to me, nuzzling my cheek, my ear, and kissing along my jaw.

“Yeah.”

“I will not move from your side.”

“Promise.”

“Oh yes. Not on your life.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

I had to ask, as much as I didn’t want to. “Did they catch him?”

“No, love, he’s in the wind.”

I took that in. “How long was I with him?”

“Four days.”

It had felt like so much longer.

“Breathe,” he whispered.

I nodded.

“I’m here now. You know I’ll protect you. I’m not going anywhere.”

It was good enough for me.

IT WAS later when I heard him speaking soft and low, the tone lulling and resonant, and it wasn’t enough. I wanted to see him so I opened my eyes slowly, carefully because I wasn’t sure what the light situation would be. But the room was dim, it was dark outside and there was only a small bedside lamp on. Ian was at the window looking out as he spoke on his phone.