All Kinds of Tied Down (Marshals 1)

He looked uncomfortable. “And then what?”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be playing pool tonight with some guys from my gym.”

His face lit up.

“No.” I snickered. “Bad. Your girlfriend does not want to play pool with strangers.”

His glare was ridiculously hot. “How do you know?”

“That’s not a date, Ian.”

“Well, you shouldn’t go either.”

I wondered vaguely if he had any idea how petulant he sounded. “I broke my left wrist, not the right. I can hold a cue just fine.”

“You should go home and go to bed,” Ian said, glowering as he walked around the car to the driver’s door.

“No, man, I gotta work through the pain,” I teased before I got in.

“What’re you talking about?” he asked irritably after he slammed his door and turned to me. “You broke your fuckin’ wrist.”

“But isn’t that your mantra or some shit? The Green Beret code and all? Screw the pain?”

“Playing pool isn’t work. You don’t hafta do it.”

Throat clearing from the back seat. “You know, you guys could just leave me here,” the Cleaver suggested cheerfully. “Then nobody has to do paperwork at all, and maybe you guys could double date.”

Ian twisted around in his seat. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you shut the fuck up before I get you back out of this car, take off the cuffs, and make you run away so I can shoot you.”

“Maybe you’ll miss.”

Ian scoffed.

“I’ll take that deal. What’re you carrying, a nine millimeter?”

“Again, not cops. Marshals,” Ian explained. “You ever get shot with a forty caliber?”

I couldn’t contain my chuckle at how contrite the Cleaver appeared.

“Maybe I’ll just stay put.”

“And shut up,” Ian barked.

“Yeah, okay.”

He turned around and gripped the steering wheel, and I realized how tense he was.

“Shooting people is bad,” I stressed playfully, poking Ian’s bicep.

I got a derisive sound back, but that quickly, he seemed better, the edge gone.

“Move this crate. I need to get this guy processed fast, because I really have to change.”

“At least your shoes, huh?” Ian teased, the tip of his head and the eyebrow waggle really annoying.

I did my best to ignore him.

Chapter 2

GRANGER’S WAS an older pub downtown, close to The Loop. I had fallen in love with it over the many times Ian dragged me there. It had good cheap beer, great hotdogs, and a haphazard floor layout that sort of meandered from room to room, making it feel bigger than it really was. Ian and I normally staked out a spot between the pool tables and the dart boards where we could still see whatever game was on the TV above the bar as well as the door. Checking who came in was always important to law-enforcement types and was something that couldn’t be turned off.

So I wasn’t thrilled that the table where my gym cronies gathered was toward the back, but I made my way through the crowd to them anyway after stopping at the bar to get an IPA I liked.

“Miro you made it,” Eric Graff, my occasional racquetball partner and one-time fuck buddy, greeted me as I reached them.

The other men and women were also pleased to see me, all except Eric’s new boyfriend, Kyle, who, I was guessing, didn’t love Eric’s arm draped around my shoulders. I would have told him not to worry—I never went back for seconds unless either my mind was challenged or there were fireworks in bed. Neither had been the case with Eric.

Giving his arm a quick pat, I extricated myself and moved through the group until I reached Thad Horton, who was more than an acquaintance but not quite a friend.

“Hey,” I greeted the pretty man who I had swam laps with many a time. He was a tanned, tweezed, manscaped twink, always quick with a smile and a kind word.

“Miro,” he almost squeaked when he saw me, which alerted the gorilla standing beside him.

“Babe?” he asked, checking on Thad before focusing his attention on me. “Who’re you?”

“Just a friend from the gym,” I said quickly. “You must be Matt. Thad talks about you all the time.”

He took my hand, clearly relieved, shaking fast. “Matt Ruben.”

“Pleasure.”

“Oh, are you the FBI agent?”

“Marshal,” I corrected him, watching Thad grimace behind him and mouth the word “Sorry.”

Quick shake of my head to let him know it was no big deal.

“That’s right. Marshal,” Matt went on. “Thad was very impressed.”

“It sounds far more glamorous than it is.”

“Doubtful,” Matt said kindly. “You wanna break, man? We’re just starting a new game.”

“Yeah, sure.”

It was fine, and everyone was nice enough, but I’d made up my mind to leave when the game was over. I was bored, as was the usual with me unless either Ian or one of my very best friends was there. I really was lousy at casual interactions. When my phone buzzed a few minutes later, I leaned back against the exposed brick wall to answer.