“No-no-no.” I stopped him, hooking my hand on the collar of the Henley and trying to yank him down to me. “Stay hot for me. Focus on that, focus on me.”
“M—”
“Ian,” I begged, hand around the back of his neck, slipping up into his hair. “Don’t get so caught up in what could have been that you lose track of what is.”
“No, I know.”
“I’m here, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re happy?”
“That’s a stupid fuckin’—”
“Tell me,” I demanded.
He took a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’m happy.”
“Well, then,” I said before I drew him down to me.
I made enough noise after he ravished my mouth, with endless pleading and suggestions about how he could draw the curtains and lock the door, that he had to stuff a pillow over my face to get me to be quiet. It wasn’t my fault. I really wanted to go home.
WE FLEW home on Sunday, and by the time we made it to the townhouse, people were there.
“Shit,” I grumbled, and Ian snickered behind me.
“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” I said as I followed behind him on my crutches. “You ain’t gettin’ laid either.”
He laughed harder, and when he opened the front door, Chickie came bounding over to me and tried to take the crutch away. I waved at the crowd crammed into our living room as they all applauded.
Aruna was holding her daughter, Sajani, and when I reached her, I stopped before hugging her because I got distracted with what was going on in front of me. Having been shooed away from me, Chickie was now sitting patiently in front of Aruna, his entire focus riveted on the baby in her arms. Sajani was squealing, kicking her feet, and cooing down at the dog.
“What happens if you put her on the floor?” I asked.
“Oh Miro, you’re home and—”
“Lemme see,” I interrupted, smiling because Chickie’s tail was thumping so hard and fast that it sounded like a motor.
Aruna rolled her eyes and put Sajani on the floor, much to Chickie’s obvious glee. He danced a few feet away, turned, crouched down, and whined at her.
Sajani was laughing as she crawled over to him. The second her teeny hand gently brushed his nose, he repeated the motion, darting away, but not far, got down and waited again.
“She crawls now?” I was amazed.
“Quite well, yes,” she sighed, leaning into me, arm around my waist, head notched underneath mine. “And she loves that stupid dog.”
“So what do you do when they’re doing that?”
“I sit on the couch and eat Godiva,” she said snidely.
Hurt or not, I was treading on thin ice. I knew she was a new mother who now also worked from home. “I’m just giving you shit.”
“Yes, dear,” she said, kissing my cheek. “I know.”
Minutes later, I flopped down on a corner of my sectional, and the members of our team were fast to take the other spots: Kohn on my left, Kowalski on his, then White on my right, and Sharpe on his. Becker and Ching sat on the rustic, industrial coffee table, which I was lucky was very sturdy, and Dorsey and Ryan hovered beside them.
“So, you good?” Ching asked what no one else seemed able to.
“Yeah.”
He pointed at me. “He took a rib?”
I nodded.
He leaned forward. “When we catch him, I’ll take one of his.”
It meant a lot coming from him, and when I patted his knee, he covered my hand for a second before nodding.
“Did they tell you about Wojno?” Becker asked me.
“Miro, I made shepherd’s pie. I’m serving you some!” Aruna called from the kitchen.
I twisted in my seat to look over at her. “Do you even know how to make that?”
Her gaze could peel paint.
“Oh, for crissakes, I’m sorry.”
“Liam’s mother taught me, you asshat,” she snapped at me. “Just sit there and look pretty, will you?”
I threw up my hands, much to the enjoyment of my fellow marshals, their peals of laughter making me smile in spite of myself.
“Hey,” Becker said, snapping his fingers to get my attention. “Listen.”
He then had all my attention, as well as Ian’s. He was lingering behind me, leaning on the console table behind the couch.
“Wojno’s dead.”
“What?” I barely got out.
“Yeah. Hartley—and we know ’cause his DNA is all over the body—he took out his rib cage and left him on the side of the road.”
I processed that, everything becoming clear. “That was supposed to be me, right? I mean, that was his plan. I just didn’t hang around long enough.”
“No,” Kohn argued. “He was careful with you.”
“Because he didn’t want me dead that fast. It was gonna be a long, slow painful process.”
“Stop,” Aruna ordered as she approached the coffee table, pushing by the men, reaching for my hand. “Get up, come sit at the table and eat and visit and talk to me and your friends. Once I go, you can talk about all the horrors you want.”