Tied Up in Knots (Marshals 3)

“No. You’ve been through more than most people I know.”

“Really?”

“Do you know that most people don’t get kidnapped in their lifetimes?”

“That’s probably true.”

“Where are you?”

“I told you, at the vet.”

“Why?”

“Barrett shot my dog.”

“He shot Chickie?”

“Didn’t anybody at my house tell you that?”

“I just got here! Ryan and Dorsey went to the hospital because that’s where we thought you were going to be.”

“Oh.” That made sense.

“Miro!”

“God, stop yelling,” I groaned, lying down sideways across the seat. “Fuck, it’s cold. I think I need a shirt.”

“Why don’t you have a shirt?”

“I had to use it to help save Barrett.”

“And you forgot to put on another one?”

“Chickie had to go to the vet.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think the truck’s on.”

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Tell me the address of the vet.”

I told him, and then I hung up and closed my eyes. When my phone rang a few minutes later, I answered but didn’t open them.

“Hey,” he said softly, gently, just the sound of him utterly thrilling. I’d miss him when he was gone.

“Ian,” I almost moaned.

“What’d you do, fall asleep?”

“No.”

“You sound like you’re in bed.”

I exhaled. “We need to break up.”

Silence. It went on for so long I almost drifted off.

“What?” He sounded angry and frantic.

I took a breath so I wouldn’t need to take another for a bit. “I miss you too much, and I know it’s shitty and needy and whiney and everything ’cause hundreds and thousands of people wait on soldiers every year, and they’re so strong and awesome, and I’m weak. So weak. You deserve better. You deserve the kind of person who can be strong for years on end if need be, and that ain’t me.”

“Love—”

“And I don’t just wantcha ’cause you keep the demons away, because I don’t need you to do that anymore. I mean, if I can kiss Hartley, I think the fear factor is kinda gone, right?”

“I’m not—I don’t—what?”

“And you were jealous of Barrett, but you shouldn’t have been, because he was never my friend. He was in love with Kerry Lochlyn, and his brother Eamon—Kerry’s brother—he was the one who killed the other guys on your team. He’s dead now, though. Eamon. And Barrett’s in the hospital. So you don’t have to worry anymore, and you should tell the other guys so they can leave Fort Bragg.”

“What?” he asked breathlessly.

“Call Kohn. I gotta take a quick nap,” I said and hung up because I really needed the rest.

The rain bouncing off the truck’s roof was soothing, and I tried to imagine my life without Ian. It would be hard to stay in Chicago, and maybe this was a signal to move. Ian could get the Greystone and Drake and Cabot, and now Josue too. I wondered if he’d let me have Chickie. I couldn’t lose everything all at once. It would be too much.

I was having a dream that I was fishing with an alarm clock, which made no sense until I woke up enough to answer my phone.

“Miro.”

“You have the best-sounding voice,” I told him. “Has anybody ever told you that?”

“Yeah, you. All the time,” Ian assured me, and it occurred to me he was breathing strangely, fast, and I could hear the crackling in his tone.

“So Barrett shot Chickie, but Hartley saved me, and he had a gun and I kissed him, and when I was kissing him, I thought—Ian would be pissed ’cause if you kissed anybody else, I’d fuckin’ kill you, and then I thought that’s sorta hypocritical of me since I went all needy on Hartley, and even though that was bad, I realized that I’m not being fair to you. I’m lying and saying that it’s okay that you’re gone, but it’s not. I’d rather be by myself than miss you all the time, and if I kiss anybody else, then I won’t have to feel guilty about it.”

“You’re at the vet, you said?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Every word, yes.”

“It’s not fair of me to ask you to change,” I said, opening my eyes and watching the rain pelt my window. “And it’s not fair of you to ask me to need you less.”

“Neither of those is fair, I agree.”

“I’ll sell the Greystone and give you half.”

“Just wait.”

“We gotta clean it though, since there’s blood in the kitchen right now.”

“We’ll clean it.”

“Chickie tried to save me.”

“But he got hurt and you got hurt, and Craig Hartley had to save you both from a man who wanted to kill me.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” I said, my eyes fluttering shut. “How funny.”

“Miro—”

“I didn’t get hurt,” I corrected.

“Oh, I think you did.”

“I’ll never be clean again, you know.”

“What?”

“I kissed Hartley. I’ll never get that off.”

He hung up then, which was a little rude since we were breaking up and everything, but I understood. Maybe it wasn’t that important to him.

When my phone rang again, I answered.