Tied Up in Knots (Marshals Book 3)
Page 20
“I seem to remember that she’s cooking for her in-laws this year, and I didn’t wanna get in the way.”
“So just the two of us, then? That sounds cozy.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Dude,” I began—a word I only used when I was really tired—“I got sucked into cooking for every-fuckin’-body. You gotta help me.”
I could hear her nearly swoon on the other end. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Can I ask?”
“Of course.”
“Where’s Ned?”
“He said that he couldn’t handle my hormones, and he went to spend the holiday with his mother.”
“Fuck.”
“Uh-huh.”
I cleared my throat. “Not to take his side in any way,” I began slowly, carefully, delicately, “but…” Oh God, it was like walking out onto new ice over a pond. “…were you maybe, possibly supposed to take the train after work on Wednesday and go over to Alexandria to spend the holidays with Ned and his family?”
Silence.
Yep, that’s exactly what she was supposed to do. “So… Janet… sweetie… he didn’t actually leave, right? I mean, he went up early to help his folks do all the shopping and everything.” Her husband, Edward, Ned for short, was the middle child, sort of, if there was a middle of eight, so when everyone descended on his parents’ home in Alexandria, Virginia, for the holidays with all the wives and husbands and kids, the parents needed help. Because Ned and Janet lived the closest, right there in Washington DC, it was normally the two of them who got there first. “He loves you and he loves the baby.”
No answer.
I knew Ned Powell fairly well. We weren’t as close as Catherine’s husband, Eriq, and me—I was one of his ushers when they got married—or Liam and me, but Ned and I were friends. I knew if she left, he’d lose his fucking mind. He worked for the NSA, so it took a lot to fluster him, but having his wife go missing would do it.
“You wanna call him, maybe?”
“If you were straight, I would have married you.”
I knew that. I felt the same. She was the one. We got along like two halves of one whole. The only place we weren’t compatible was in bed. It bugged the hell out of guys I fucked and guys she dated until Ned. He didn’t care one bit because we were only ever going to be friends, and he got to make her his wife. “Yeah. And?”
“It’s easy with you. It always has been. I need some easy.”
I sighed deeply. “Then come on, kitten. Let’s snuggle.”
Her whimper was adorable.
“For crissakes, you know I want you here.”
“I’ll be there in the morning. I’ll text you the flight information and I’ll call Aruna.”
“No, don’t call—shit,” I swore when I realized she’d hung up on me.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked as he closed in on me, Kohn right beside him.
“Nothing,” I muttered, standing up. “What the hell’re you guys still doing here?”
“You know,” Ryan told me. “We gotta know where you’re goin’ and what you’re doin’ before we ditch you.”
“Yeah, I know, sorry. Family crisis.”
“Doyle?” Kohn guessed. It was a good one.
“No, my friend Janet. She’s coming for Thanksgiving.”
“The more the merrier,” he assured me.
They were being weird, standing there, doing nothing, and it finally hit me. They had things to do, people to see, but they were waiting on me.
“I’m getting a cab and going home,” I announced.
“Swear?” Ryan hedged, concerned and also, it was his job to ask, to know.
I crossed my heart for him. “I swear. No more drinking, straight home to bed. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
They both looked skeptical.
“Remember, men, if you can’t be good, be careful.”
That got the middle finger from both I was waiting for, but they still didn’t leave until I got into a cab. It was nice that even though I’d been flipped off, I got a wave good-bye as well.
I HAD the driver dump me off a block from home so I could get some groceries, but when I got close to the store, the idea of going in under all the fluorescent lighting was daunting. I had coffee at home, and creamer, half-and-half, and ramen. I was good.
It started to rain really hard, and only then did I realize I’d left my leather jacket at work on the back of my chair and the bag I brought back from Vegas under my desk. I’d spaced on it when I left, the alcohol had warmed me in the club, and the driver had the heater going full blast in the cab. But now in the deluge of water, I could drown, but I would probably die of hypothermia first.
I was jogging toward my door when the call of my name stopped me. Barrett was standing in his doorway, letting other people in and waving at me.
Diverting since there was no one at home waiting for me anyway, I darted up his steps and stopped on his welcome mat, which burped with the water I squeezed out of it even as it absorbed more.
“You need the kind with holes in it like I have,” I teased.
“Jesus, get in here,” he insisted, taking hold of my bicep and dragging me inside, closing the door quickly behind me. “You’re soaking.”
I grunted my agreement.
He looked at me like I was nuts. “Are you all right? Your pupils are huge.”
“I think I just killed my Alexander McQueens, and that’s a damn shame.”
He glared at me. “We’re worried about a pair of shoes right now?”
“Boots,” I clarified, nodding, not liking my chances of them living through all the water in them. The noise they were making when I walked, that sort of a squelchy, soggy sound, was not good.
“Take off your boots and I’ll get you a towel.”
I shook my head, which sent cold rivulets down the back of my neck and into my eyes. “Home is right there. I just stopped to say hi.”
“You’re soaked to the skin.”
“I am,” I agreed.
He studied my face a moment before he reached out and put a hand on my cheek. “Not that you don’t look good, but what’s with the all-black ensemble?”
“It’s a long fuckin’ story,” I said, smiling at him, lifting free of his touch, roughly putting my hands through my hair, pulling out the water, squeezing the small ponytail that told me it was more than time to get it cut. Now I was surprised Kage hadn’t reminded me earlier in the day.
“Do you want to stay here?” he asked softly, taking a step closer to me. “You could take a shower, and I’ll run over to your place and grab some of your clothes. I’ll send everybody else home and make you a real dinner.”
“Real?”
“Yeah,” he croaked, giving me a trace of a smile. “All I’ve got are burgers and hot dogs right now.”
“That sounds good,” I said. “How about I run home, shower, and then come back and meet your friends and eat.”
His face lit up. “That would be great.”
“Okay.”
“Is Ian gone?”
“Yeah, he was deployed.”
“Wow, that’s fast. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “It’s his job.”
“Yes and no,” he let slip. “But go home and come back.”
“If I don’t it means I passed out, all right?” I said, turning for the door.
“Then don’t go yet. Eat first. Let me get you a towel. I’m afraid you’re going to pass out with only alcohol in you.”
“How do you know I drank tonight?”
“Miro, my friend, you smell like smoke and beer.”
“Gross,” I said, chuckling. “I really should go home then.”
He studied me. “You’re not drunk, though.”
“There’s still a bit of a buzz left, but not much. Any food will soak up the remainder.”
“Well, then let’s get you fed, and after you eat, you better strip down and take a nap in my guest room. I think you need a keeper tonight.”
He grinned slightly. “Ian should be afraid, but not of me, per se.”
“Afraid?”
He put an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. Can you walk?”
“I was running,” I quipped. “You just saw me.”
“Yes, but I think you’re fading just a bit.”
I scoffed even as I felt my knees wobble ever so slightly. Eating was not the worst idea ever.
Barrett’s friends were nice. They were a few guys from his gym, and some people from work who brought their husbands/wives, another partner at his firm and his husband, and a friend from college who’d come in from New Jersey and was staying with him through the weekend—like Janet would be with me—upstairs on the phone at the moment. He’d apparently been there since Monday.
“So you must be the hot guy who lives next door that Barrett’s been telling us all about at work,” a woman said as I inhaled my burger, far hungrier than I’d realized.
“I think he was probably talking about my boyfriend,” I teased with a wink.
She smiled back. “Perhaps.”
Barrett coughed, clearly uncomfortable. “You know you can have another one, right?”
I nodded as I chewed.
“Jesus, Miro, you need someone around to make sure you eat.”
Not normally.
As I stood in the kitchen, damp but drying, close to the vent pumping out warm air, one of the men coming in for another beer stopped in front of me.
“I know you,” the guy said.
“Wow, that’s a great line,” another of Barrett’s friends said, smiling at me. “I think I know you too.”
I shook my head, swallowing and tipping my head at the handsome man in front of me. “You don’t, but he does. He was my doctor a few years back when I was in the hospital. What was your name again, Doc?”
“Dr. Sean Cooper,” he offered with a smile as he got closer. “But just call me Sean, all right? And you’re Miro, I heard Barrett say.”
“Yeah.”
“Here,” Barrett said as he put a large glass of ice water down in front of me. “Drink this, let’s get you hydrated.”
The last of my buzz was slipping away. “I swear I’m good.”
“Drink the goddamn water.”
So I did as I hoovered down the burger.
“Dr. Benton is your friend,” the movie-star handsome man said, returning my attention to him, as he very gently lifted my chin. “And you were shot in the line of duty.”
“I was,” I replied with a shrug. “And I’m sorry if she came off bossy that day. She gets that way when she’s scared.”
“She’s a phenomenal surgeon.”
“And bossy,” I reiterated.
“In the line of duty?” the other man asked, having latched on to those words. “What kind of law enforcement?”
“Miro’s a deputy US marshal,” Barrett answered absently, tucking a piece of hair around my right ear. “You have bruises all along your jaw here.”
I grunted.
“Yeah, I was noticing that,” Sean admitted, trailing his fingers down the side of my neck to the collar of my Calvin Klein dress shirt and lifting it so he could see the skin underneath. “Oh, Miro, you’re bleeding.”
I shook my head, shoving chips in my mouth now that the burger was gone. “It’s old,” I said without swallowing. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not at all fine.” Sean glowered at me. “How much have you had to drink?”
I came clean. “A lot, but it was a while ago now. I’m 90 percent sober.”
He nodded. “Okay, I think we need to go to the hospital.”
“I just need to go to bed.”
“How about if Barrett comes with us?”
“Nope. I’m going home now anyway. I just came to eat and run.”
Sean’s eyes flicked to Barrett. “I think you need to insist.”
“Miro,” Barrett began, slipping his hand around my bicep. “Were you in a fight?”
“Deputy US marshal,” I apprised him, cocking an eyebrow for his benefit. “It comes with the territory, right?”
He took a breath. “Could Sean just look you over?”
“I think he did already.”
“How about you go upstairs, shower, and you can borrow a T-shirt and sweats from me, and then he can—”
“I’m just gonna go.” I yawned. “I don’t wanna take off my gun holster till I get home.”
“You have a gun?” another friend of Barrett’s asked.
I was going to say “marshal” again, but I let it go. “I do, yes.”
“You’re drunk,” Sean said sharply. “And you’re carrying a gun?”
“I’m not drunk at all, and yes, I’m carrying a gun. Not firing it.”
“Maybe you should give the gun to me,” Barrett offered with not quite a condescending smile, but close. It was like he thought I was simple or too stupid to understand what he was saying to me. Thing was, I followed all too clearly. I was sleep deprived, yes, but as I’d just said, not drunk.
“Miro, I think—”
“I gotta go,” I informed Barrett, because now I was irritated. How dare they question me? I’d never put anyone in danger on purpose. How many other people could say that?
He caught me at the front door.
“Stop, don’t leave because you’re mad.” He chuckled behind me.
I had it opened a crack before he banged it shut.
“Miro—”
“No,” I barked, rounding on him, pointing into his face. “How dare you second-guess me or how I perform my job. You and your doctor friend don’t know shit about the training that any agent of the federal government goes through because we carry a gun twenty-four seven.”
“No, I—”
“I’ll have you know that I was on my way home and the guys on my team made sure I was. They would never leave me alone. We all have each other as a safety net, so you questioning me is you questioning them, and I don’t fuckin’ like it.”
This was why, beyond the four women who were more family than friends, I didn’t have people in my life beyond the guys I worked with. No one else understood that you could never let yourself completely go, never let your guard all the way down, and never take off the holster until you were home.
“Miro, come on, I—”
Leaving him while he was still talking, I walked back through the living room toward the kitchen, moving fast.
Sean stepped into my path. “Hey, Miro, I really think that—”
I went around him and got to the back door, unlocked it, and went out on Barrett’s back patio, down the steps to the cobblestone path that led to the small garden the last owners had put in, and then off into the lush, wet grass.
I bolted to my back steps that simply ended in the grass, went up them to the deck that was the second thing I had built when I moved in, and was fumbling for my keys, thankful for the porch light that went on automatically at dusk, when I heard Barrett yell my name.
I didn’t turn. I just kept trying to get my keys out but the pants were tight anyway and now they were sticking to my sides like a second skin.
“Miro,” Barrett said, arriving at my side. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not capable or that you would ever do anything foolish. Please, I’m just worried.”
“I don’t need you to worry about me,” I almost snarled, finally getting the ring out of my pocket. “I have Ian for that.”
“Oh? Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right!” I flared, glancing over at his covered back porch and seeing the crowd clustered there. “And you should go back to your party.”
“I don’t want to go back to my party, I want to fix this with you,” he insisted, grabbing my bicep and yanking hard to get me to turn to him.
“It’s fine, it’s fixed.” And it was. He a
nd I were done except for me to wave at him as I passed his house or saw him on the street. No one got to second-guess my job or the guys I worked with or how I conducted myself.
“No, it’s not, you’re mad because I questioned you and now because I’m questioning Ian’s commitment.”
“Don’t worry about Ian,” I warned him. “Ian and me are great.”
“You’re not great, because he’s never here.”
“He’s here more than enough,” I said, slipping the key into the bottom lock, opening it and then going to work on the dead bolt with another key.
“What do you expect?” he asked curtly. “Here you are all alone night after night, this handsome, sexy, dangerous man who needs a keeper more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life, and I’m just supposed to do what? Never say anything? Never put the idea in your head that you have other options, that you deserve a better one?”
“Fuck you, Barrett,” I spat, disgusted. “You’re supposed to be my fuckin’ friend! You don’t tear Ian down when he’s not here, that’s total shit!”
He shoved me back against the door… or tried to. I had no idea what he was thinking, but I had a lot of muscle on him and there was no way I was moving.
“Go home,” I said, pushing him off me.
“Miro, just listen to—”
But the door opened, which cut him off and startled me as we were suddenly both looking at a very beautiful, very angry man standing in the doorway.
“Yes,” Ian ground out, his tone dead and flat. “Go home.”
Barrett’s eyes were huge as he regarded the man I loved, but Ian’s focus was solely on me, as evidenced by the way he fisted his hand in my wet shirt and yanked me into the house. He slammed the door so hard behind me that the glass rattled.
“You’re home,” I breathed out.
The way he was looking at me, predatory and hungry, should have really scared me, but a shiver of anticipation ran through me instead. “Where the hell have you been?” was the first thing out of his mouth.
It wasn’t warm or loving, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care. He was home.
Chapter 14
I STOOD there dripping in the living room, smiling like an idiot and wiping the water out of my face and eyes. “I’m so happy to see you!”