All Kinds of Tied Down

by Mary Calmes

  I arched an eyebrow in warning. “Your faith in me is heartwarming.”

  “Shut up.”

  It was nice. The fire was really warm, and after a while, Cabot turned, curling up in Drake’s arms, and fell asleep after thanking Ian for the fire again. Drake wasn’t far behind. Jenner said he was only going to rest, but he was out as well, minutes later.

  “I can feed the fire,” I insisted. “Why don’t you try and sleep a little. If I need you, I’ll wake you up.”

  “Okay,” Ian agreed, lying down with his head in my lap. He was out in seconds.

  “So,” Holley said, jolting me, which was good because I was dozing. “Tell me about being a marshal.”

  “Tell me why you’re divorced?”

  He smiled. “I think you can figure it out.”

  I studied him.

  “I really wanted to take you to dinner.”

  “I’m very flattered, Chief, thank you.”

  He grunted. “Though I would not have even entertained the thought had I known you were involved with your partner.”

  It didn’t occur to me to deny it, to deny Ian. “It’s that obvious?”

  “It wasn’t at first,” he mused, glancing at Ian with his head in my lap and my arm across his shoulder. “But once we got here, how protective he is, how gentle you are with him—it became apparent. And,” he said with a chuckle, “frankly he’s a bit too comfortable in your personal space.”

  He always had been.

  “You’re very well suited.”

  “Thank you,” I said honestly, because I would take that observation all day long. “You should try and sleep too.”

  “Thank you for saving my life, Marshal.”

  “Sorry to have dragged you and your men into our mess.”

  “It’s Mr. Jenner’s mess, Marshal, and everyone will know that come morning.”

  When Holley, too, was asleep, I put some more wood on the fire to make sure we all stayed warm and toasty throughout the cold, dark night. I tried not to get used to having my partner sleeping on me, but I had a sneaking suspicion the damage was already done.

  Chapter 15

  THE SOUND of thunder woke me the following morning, and when I lifted up, I realized I had been sleeping in Ian’s arms. We had switched places in the early morning hours, and I had lain beside him, next to the fire. But when my eyes opened to the gray day, I saw I had used his chest for a pillow.

  There was no time to say anything, though. What I had thought was thunder was actually a helicopter that landed in the clearing a hundred yards away. First one off was Kage, and Ian and I got to our feet to greet him.

  “Who’s that?” Cabot asked as he and Drake moved up beside me.

  “Our boss,” I answered, watching Kage stride toward us.

  “He’s big,” he remarked.

  “And kinda scary looking,” Drake continued.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, smiling suddenly. “I’m really happy to see him.”

  “Me too,” Cabot sighed.

  Sam Kage reached the stairs and climbed up, stopping in front of us.

  “Sir, I—”

  “Good job, Marshals,” he said, turning to lift a walkie-talkie to tell the others to bring a fire extinguisher.

  He turned then and gestured us all down toward the helicopter. Inside, even the small change in temperature was comforting.

  “Are you their boss?” Jenner snarled at Kage, the night not having mellowed him even a bit.

  “I am,” Kage answered flatly, scowling.

  “Well, I want them both in jail for kidnapping my son and—”

  “Actually, it’s you who’ll be going there, sir,” Kage returned tersely. “Your actions led to the deaths of ten men, you kidnapped Drake Ford from federal custody, placed your own son in jeopardy, as well as an officer of the law—Chief Holley—and two of my marshals. You’ll be lucky to be back outside. Ever.”

  “No, you—”

  “I would take a moment and breathe the fresh air.”

  Holley, Drake, and Cabot all looked to me with wide eyes.

  Well, yeah, my boss was all kinds of scary.

  IT WAS a blur. We went first by helicopter to the chief’s car and collected our bags, then to Drake’s trailer, where he and Cabot hurriedly packed one bag of clothes and Drake’s most prized possessions, including a sketch Cabot had done of him. We were then flown to Wellmont Hancock County Hospital.

  All of us suffered from a bit of hypothermia, but once we had fluids and glucose, we were ready to eat. Kage culled the pack, putting Jenner in federal custody, turning him over to the FBI agents. They took kidnapping very seriously. It was sad that even then, Jenner had to spit some more poison at his son, calling him a disappointment and an abomination. Drake folded his boyfriend in his arms as the agents, more than a little disgusted by Jenner’s vitriol, if the looks on their faces were any indication, took his father away.

  We said good-bye to Holley, who thanked Ian and me for saving his life and hugged Drake and Cabot and wished them well. Two large Chevy Suburbans were parked at the entrance of the hospital, and Kage gave one set of keys to Ian and four plane tickets to me.

  “You’re all flying back to Chicago tomorrow.”

  “And you?” Ian asked.

  “I have to fly to Arlington to bring charges against Mr. Jenner. I need your full reports no later than 0600 tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yessir,” I said.

  “Yes sir,” Ian echoed.

  “And the rental car that you drove to the police station in Bowman is being returned as we speak.”

  Big or small, my boss never missed anything. “Thank you, sir.”

  Kage gave me a pat on the arm. “Good job, gentlemen.”

  FBI agents accompanied him, and one held the door open so he could get into the SUV. They drove away quickly through the lightly falling snow.

  “Who wants food?” Ian asked.

  I raised my hand, with Drake and Cabot following.

  “When does a shower happen?” Cabot wanted to know.

  “You want that first?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head at the same time his stomach growled. “Food is definitely number one on my list.”

  It was the same for all of us.

  “After we eat,” Ian said, gesturing at the car. “We’ll all get nice hot showers.”

  It sounded heavenly.

  I called shotgun, and everyone thought that was funny, because really, who else would it have been with Ian driving?

  “We should eat on the way,” Drake suggested. “It’s like an hour and a half to the Tri-Cities airport. That’s Blountville, right? Tennessee?”

  “Yeah,” Ian said, fidgeting, like he wasn’t comfortable in his seat.

  “You want me to drive?”

  “No,” he snapped.

  I suddenly had the oddest compulsion to take hold of his hand, but since I wasn’t sure how he would take that, I just looked out the window instead.

  “What do you guys wanna eat?” I asked Drake and Cabot.

  “Yes,” Cabot said, chuckling.

  Meaning anything and everything.

  “Okay,” I said playfully, patting Ian’s leg. “Drive.”

  He caught my hand and held it against his thigh, taking a breath at the same time. “Who wants a steak? I feel like steak.”

  Cabot whimpered.

  “And all the fixins?” Drake asked hopefully.

  “You got it, buddy.”

  I turned to look at Ian, and after a minute, he let my hand go and put his on the wheel. “You all right?”

  “Fine,” he answered softly.

  “So get us steak, man.”

  Moving my hand, I checked my e-mail on my phone, and when I put my phone down, leaned sideways and took hold of the back of his headrest.

  Every now and then, out of the blue Ian smiled, and I could look at him and see the little boy he must have been. It was all sunshine and happiness and heartbrea
king vulnerability. The smile annihilated me and also made me almost murderously protective. So when he turned his head and gifted me with it, I smiled stupidly back.

  Fucking Ian.

  We stopped an hour later at a place that Yelp said was good, and at three in the afternoon, since it was just us and two older couples, we were guaranteed focused service.

  The amount of food we ordered was ridiculous, and our waitress, Jill, was funny and sweet and thrilled with every new menu item requested.

  Cabot ate his filet rare and smothered in mushrooms, Drake had a porterhouse I didn’t think a wolf pack could have finished, Ian had a T-bone named the “cowboy cut,” and I had a ribeye. We shared sides—ordered eight of them—and then had dessert.

  “Someday, when Drake and I are done with witness protection, will you guys drink with us?” Cabot asked hopefully.

  “Absolutely,” I promised.

  “And we’ll be staying in Chicago, right?” Drake wanted to know. “I mean—you and Marshal Doyle are—”

  “Make it Ian and Miro,” Ian corrected. “After everything, I think we’re done with titles, yeah?”

  Drake smiled wide, and I saw Cabot looking at us hungrily as well. They were both starved for male authority-figure friendship. “Yeah,” he agreed happily.

  “So,” Cabot hedged, “we’ll be in Chicago, and you guys will check up on us and stuff?”

  “Yes,” Ian promised.

  Nice to see the relief wash over both of them, Cabot even more so, and I understood why. His whole life had changed in a twenty-four-hour period.

  “You both have to go to college,” Ian informed them.

  There was lots of nodding, and I heard Ian cackle under his breath.

  As soon as we were on the road again, our two witnesses passed out in the back.

  “Normally transport marshals don’t do check-in,” he reminded me.

  “Yeah, but I think this is a special circumstance.”

  “I agree,” he rumbled thickly, twisting his head back and forth.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I dunno,” he said too fast.

  Okay. “What do you think?” I prodded.

  He shook his head.

  I would have to figure it out later.

  “Boss has us with a reservation at the La Quinta Inn & Suites near the airport.”

  “All right. I’ll navigate us to there.”

  “Let’s actually get a suite, okay? Not just a room with two beds and two cots.”

  “Why would you make the boys sleep apart?” I baited him, to which there was no reply.

  Nothing.

  “Ian?”

  “Where am I going?”

  “You’re staying on US 23 going south. It’ll turn into I-26. You’ll be on it for another ten miles.”

  He grunted.

  Something was wrong. “I was thinking that I could start typing up our incident report, since I don’t get carsick.”

  “Good idea,” he said as he checked the mirrors.

  It was like pulling teeth; the man was back to being his normal laconic self. “Are you pissed at me?”

  No answer, which basically let me know that he was, in fact, angry. Since I had no hope of figuring out what I’d done, I gave up and pulled out my laptop.

  The thirty minutes of drive time went by quickly as I wrote the report, making sure to include the notes I’d e-mailed Kage and the ones I’d made on my phone. I talked to Aruna when she called to let me know that Chickie was having a very good time playing with the kids as well as Liam. I reported the news to Ian, who merely nodded.

  “You’re quite the conversationalist,” I informed him.

  He made a noise in the back of his throat.

  “You’re being a dick.”

  His gaze flicked over to me and then back to the road.

  My phone buzzed. A text message from Kage.

  “What is it?” Ian asked.

  “Apparently twelve members of the Malloy crime family were murdered last night. Orson Malloy is in the wind.”

  “Okay, so what does that mean for Drake?”

  “Nothing. While he’s been in custody, Fisher’s been talking, and it turns out he doesn’t only do cleanup for Malloy, but for several different families. He stopped talking because he said he had a feeling that Drake might not be around much longer.”

  “What does the message say about that?”

  “To watch out for Drake and Cabot until we get them on the plane. Once we’re back in Chicago, no one will know who they are.”

  “Right. Does he say who he thinks might be coming after them?”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” he said on an exhale. Then after a few moments of silence: “Were you worried last night?”

  “What?” I asked, turning to look at him, ignoring my laptop.

  “Last night? In the woods? Were you scared?”

  “No.” I yawned. “You were there.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “No, I don’t mean, like, you were there, so you saw I wasn’t freaked out. I mean, you were there, you were with me, and so I was fine.”

  “Oh.”

  “If you and I are together, I don’t worry.”

  He grunted and I went back to my report.

  Ian found a drugstore where we stopped for toiletries for the guys before heading over to the hotel. At the front desk, we had to wait a bit as there was a family reunion happening and a lot of people were checking in. When it was my turn, I advised the clerk that I needed a specific layout for our suite and I had checked them on the Internet.

  In the room, Cabot was confused.

  “There’s only one bedroom.”

  “Right,” I agreed. “Now walk with me.”

  We passed through a short hallway and saw a bathroom on the left that led to a bedroom. But if you walked by the bathroom, there was a couch that opened up into a bed, and on the other side of the bedroom wall, a dining room table and chairs.

  “You guys will be in there,” I directed. “You close the bedroom door here, and the one that leads from the bathroom, and you’re completely enclosed. Ian and I are out here, and anyone who comes in has to come through us first.”

  “You have kind of a sucky job,” Drake said bluntly. “I mean, you guys just protect us ’cause you have to.”

  “Normally, yes.” I agreed with his summation of the facts. “But I’d protect you guys even if I didn’t have to, at this point. I’m interested to see what happens.”

  “We’re like an experiment,” Cabot said, grinning at me.

  “Yes,” I agreed, flashing him a smile.

  “I’m taking a shower first,” Ian grumbled, walking toward the bathroom with his backpack. “Somebody call down and get more towels.”

  He slammed the door behind him, and Drake took his and Cabot’s bags into the bedroom while Cabot turned on the television. Of course, the first thing he saw was his old home on the news.

  “Jesus Christ, it looks worse than it did this morning when we flew over it.”

  The house was basically gutted. Between the grenades and the bullets, the remodeling would have been extensive. But the inside had been blasted as well. I was glad I had insisted on Cabot taking anything of value when he ran with us, because his bedroom had been completely destroyed.

  “I’m sorry you won’t get to say good-bye to your mother,” I said gently.

  Cabot shook his head. “Don’t be. She never gave a crap about me. At least my father knew I was alive. Every time he hit me, at least he saw me.”

  I couldn’t help it. He was so young, so sad, and at that moment, he needed me. Stepping in front of him, I hauled him to his feet and into my arms.

  “You think I’m weak because I’m gay, and—”

  “I’m gay, idiot,” I told him, squeezing tighter until he broke down, going boneless against me. “Gay doesn’t have shit to do with anything, and never let anyone tell you different.”

  His
breath caught as he started to cry, his arms wrapping tight around my waist as he buried his face in my chest.

  “You can get married in Chicago if you want. June would be perfect since you’ll have graduated high school by then. People’ll think you got yourself knocked up.”

  The dam broke, and the sniffling and laughing turned to all-out ugly sobbing in seconds. He had only just turned eighteen. He was still so young, had been through an ordeal, and was now basically an orphan with no one but my partner and me to give a crap about him and his boyfriend.

  “You’re gonna be all right,” I promised. “You’ll see.”

  He clung so hard, and I rocked him and soothed him, rubbing circles on his back. When Ian walked into the room, Drake spoke up.

  “Cab,” he said softly. “Baby, do you want to take a shower next or—”

  Cabot tried to wedge tighter, and I motioned for Drake to go ahead.

  “Did you call down for towels?” Ian asked.

  “No, we didn’t get that far,” I said, smiling, leaning my cheek on the top of Cabot’s head.

  “Okay,” he mumbled, crossing the room to the phone.

  I stood with Cabot, and eventually he calmed. The crying became panting, stuttering breaths, and finally hiccups. I had him drink water fast, and when Drake got out of the bathroom, he smiled, big.

  “Oh, there’s my baby,” Drake sighed as Cabot charged over to him. As he wrapped the smaller boy up in his arms, Drake looked over at me and smiled.

  “Get in the shower, Cabot. Drake’ll bring your towels in when we get them,” I said.

  He did as he was directed, and I pulled out my laptop, got myself situated at the table, and plugged it in. We had to use our phones for Wi-Fi hotspots because of all the classified data we transmitted, and once I got that working, I went back to typing up the report.

  The towels arrived, and when Cabot came out looking better, definitely smelling better, and beaming at me, I told him and Drake to order room service if they wanted anything.

  “Read over the report,” I said to Ian next. “Add anything I’m missing, okay?”

  “Sure,” he muttered, not looking at me as he sat down in front of my laptop.

  Something had crawled up his ass, but for the life of me, I had no idea what. But I needed a shower more than I needed to make nice with him, so I left him—sulking or pouting, I wasn’t sure which—and disappeared into the bathroom.