The Griffin Marshal's Heart (U.S. Marshal Shifters Book 4)

by Zoe Chant

  To her surprise and delight, her mention of a wizard apparently summoned a pegasus.

  Martin barreled into the break room.

  No one could make an entrance like a worried pegasus shifter, but the sudden explosion of him coming through the door jangled her nerves to the point where her hand twitched towards her gun. She made herself calm down, which was a lot easier to do once Martin had wrapped her in a tight hug.

  This whole day had left her way too antsy. She was safe. She was with Cooper and Martin, and she was in a well-lit, perfectly ordinary hospital.

  She hugged Martin back firmly. “It’s good to see you too.”

  “I don’t like any of my people getting shot at,” Martin said. “Especially the one who’s supposed to take over for me when I retire.”

  “Don’t worry, chief. I wouldn’t dare get killed and deny you your peaceful years of taking Tiffani on round-the-world tours.”

  Though she still had a hard time believing Martin would ever voluntarily retire, honestly. He loved the job just as much as she did. She would happily settle for a whole career of just being the person who covered for him while he was on vacation.

  He let her go, and Gretchen saw the contentment in his eyes that only the mention of his beloved mate could ever put there. “Speaking of Tiffani, she sent you something. I bolted the second Keith called in his shots fired report, and she basically threw these at me as I was on my way out the door.”

  He passed her a Ziploc bag full of Tiffani’s signature terrible cookies, which had become a team inside joke by this point. They were slowly approaching edibility as she got more practice, but no one wanted to tell Tiffani that. She’d grown to take a perverse pride in her seeming inability to bake.

  “These aren’t even rock hard,” Gretchen said, shaking her head. “She’s slipping.”

  “I know, but let’s not hurt her feelings.” His expression evened out, becoming much more cautious and neutral. “Hello, Cooper. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

  Cooper stood up, wincing a little as his sore muscles contracted. “So do I, sir. But it’s good to see you looking well.”

  Martin nodded and turned back to Gretchen. “How’s Keith?”

  She gave him a brief outline of Keith’s condition, including the concern that he might have post-concussion syndrome, but made sure to emphasize that the nurse had clearly been optimistic. “I think he should be back on his feet soon. And you know he’s... strong,” she added, obliquely trying to talk around the shifter aspect.

  Usually it was dangerous to even bring shifters into the ER, but Keith had been hurt badly enough that Gretchen had decided it was worth the risk. And it had worked out perfectly: they had examined him quickly enough that his accelerated healing hadn’t been obvious. He would probably check out early and against medical advice to better protect his secret, but for now, the shifter world could breathe easy. Their secret was still safe.

  “That’s good,” Martin said, exhaling. “I’ll stay here until he’s out of the woods.”

  “So will I.”

  He shook his head. “I’m calling you back in, Gretchen. You don’t have any backup now, and gunmen on your trail means this job’s too dangerous to do on your own. Cooper, when the time comes to complete this trip we’ll want a heavily armored transport van and a couple of Marshals riding shotgun. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I do,” Cooper said quietly. “I want Gretchen to be safe.”

  But it was like a light had gone out somewhere in those clear green eyes. It almost broke Gretchen’s heart.

  Maybe that was what made her argue with Martin when that was something she hardly ever did.

  “Chief, I don’t know that that’s the right call.”

  Martin wasn’t the kind of boss to get angry at his opinion being challenged. He just looked curious. “All right. What are you thinking?”

  “Whoever shot at us was after us because of Cooper. They could have hit me—they had a perfectly good opportunity—but they didn’t. They barely cared about me at all. In fact, I think they even wanted me and Keith alive, just so they wouldn’t have the hassle of the investigation they’d get for killing two federal Marshals. You know that brings down the kind of heat that leaves scorched earth behind.”

  Martin nodded. “We’d hunt them to the ends of the earth.” His voice was somber and absolutely sure, and Gretchen had no doubt he meant it.

  For Martin, though, that loyalty wasn’t because she was a Marshal. Not entirely. Gretchen knew that to him, she was one of his herd. To Colby, they were a pack. To Theo, they were a village, a better one than the snobby, claustrophobic place he’d left behind.

  To Gretchen, they were purely and simply family. And it was time she started trusting this family the way Martin trusted his herd. It was time she started trusting their faith in her.

  She said, “They were after Cooper, period. And if we wait on getting more secure transportation, that means that for right now, we’re seeing him back to either the prison that’s already proven they can’t keep him safe or a small town jail guys like this could get into without breaking a sweat. He’ll be a sitting duck.”

  “And if you keep hauling him cross-country, all you’ll be is a moving duck. They’ve already shown they can hit one of those just fine.”

  “True. But they have to be expecting us to split up at this point. If they’re watching the hospital—and I almost guarantee you they are—they’re going to be looking for a van hauling Coop back to the Stridmont Penitentiary.”

  She realized she’d slipped up and called him not only Cooper but Coop, but Martin hadn’t flinched or looked disapproving at how informal she’d gotten with a prisoner. He only looked quietly thoughtful, like he was taking all this in.

  “If Cooper and I leave together and keep heading west to Bergen, we’ll have the element of surprise, at least.”

  “But whoever’s chasing us has unusual tools at their disposal,” Cooper said.

  Martin didn’t act like Coop throwing in his two cents was that weird either. He just said, “What do you mean?”

  “They have some way of putting people in a hypnotic state. Making them confused, messing with their memories and perceptions. We’ve been seeing things.”

  “Some kind of gas, we’re thinking,” Gretchen said. She wasn’t letting the phrase “fear gas” cross her lips this time. Martin would take her seriously no matter what, but there was no reason to make it hard for him.

  “But maybe not,” Cooper said. “Whatever it is, it’s strong enough that it should make us all nervous.”

  “But at least Cooper and I know that it’s out there. We know a little bit about what we’re dealing with. We’ve come face to face with these guys, and we’re still alive. We’ll be more prepared next time.” She took a deep breath. Absolute trust, she reminded herself. Absolute truthfulness. “Let me stay on the road with him, chief. I feel like it’s the right thing to do.”

  He studied her. “You won’t make it to Bergen tonight, you know. You still have the same problem you had before: they can track you to a small town jail, and Cooper’s vulnerable there.”

  “We can spend the night in a motel,” Gretchen said. “I’ll find one of those cheap roadside places, and I’m sure they’ll be happy to take the government stipend for housing a prisoner overnight.”

  Martin winced. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to fill out the budget request for that.”

  “There’s a supplementary form you can use,” Cooper said unexpectedly. “12D. You just attach it to the travel voucher, and it’s a lot easier than filling out a separate room requisition request.”

  “12D supplemental, huh?” Martin looked thoughtful. “I’ll try that. Thanks, Cooper.”

  “Then it’s a deal?” Gretchen said.

  He nodded. “I trust your judgment. But if you’re going to do this, you need to get on the road as soon as possible, and I saw your car in the parking lot. It looks lik
e Swiss cheese.”

  “I promise I’ll fill out the report on that one,” Gretchen said.

  “Damn right you will. But that wasn’t what I was thinking.” He tossed her his keys. “Take my car. I’ll fl—flag a taxi to take me home.”

  That was a nice last minute save. She knew he’d been about to say that he would fly back.

  She took the rest of his keys off the key-ring and passed them back to him. As her hand clenched tight around the car key, she felt something in her throat close up a little, like she was about to cry.

  She’d been agonizing over whether or not she could trust her instincts, and Martin—the man she respected more than anyone else in the world—had just said, matter-of-factly, that he trusted them. He’d just turned the decision over to her, turned his car over to her, and he didn’t even look like he was regretting it.

  Cooper trusted her. Martin trusted her.

  Those were two really good reasons to get better at trusting herself.

  She could feel tears shining in her eyes, but she blinked them back.

  “And be careful,” Martin said.

  “I won’t make you have to change your retirement plans.” She tucked the Ziploc bag into her coat pocket. “And thank Tiffani for the cookies. Tell the guys I’m all right, okay? It’s supposed to snow tonight, and if it turns into a bad storm, I might lose signal. Tell them not to worry.”

  “I will,” Martin said. “They’ll still worry, and so will I, but I’ll tell them. And I’ll deal with all the cleanup on this—talk to local law enforcement, check out whether or not anyone knows anything about your chemical weapon. You two get going. If you want the element of surprise, the sooner you leave, the better.”

  She didn’t know how to thank him for all this, and she said so.

  “You already have,” Martin said. “You got me the answer to a question.”

  He had to mean Cooper’s guilt or innocence, didn’t he? She hadn’t even mentioned it.

  He smiled. “It’s written all over your face,” he said softly. “I’m glad to know I was right. We’ll figure out what to do about it later. In the meantime... you two just keep yourselves alive.”

  9

  Martin’s car had no reinforced plastic barrier between the front and back seats. It was his personal vehicle, not one designed specifically for prisoner transport.

  Cooper froze in place, unsure what kind of decision Gretchen was going to make.

  What would he have done in this situation? The sanest choice would probably be for her to put him in the backseat on the passenger side and cuff him to the door.

  But where he had frozen, Gretchen didn’t even hesitate. She moved with graceful intent, like a stalking cat.

  She crouched down in the slushy parking lot and began unlocking his leg shackles.

  His voice came out strained, sounding like it was ready to crack. “What are you doing?”

  She looked up at him, her bright honey-colored eyes resolute. From this angle, he had even more of an appreciation for the dark fringe of her eyelashes.

  “I’m doing exactly what you think I’m doing, Coop. You’ll be a lot more comfortable without these.”

  She finished undoing them and straightened up. She applied a separate key to his handcuffs, wrapping one hand lightly around his wrist to steady the lock.

  He couldn’t get over the feel of her skin against his. He still couldn’t believe that she could touch him without flinching back like she was going to catch something. It was even more surprising than the cuffs coming off.

  “There,” Gretchen said briskly. The shackles dangled from her hand, the blued steel gleaming in the low winter light. “That’s better, right?”

  “How do you know I’m not going to run?”

  “Are you going to run?”

  Yes, because he had no other choice, not if he wanted to find out who had really killed Phil and set up his witnesses. Yes, because if he had to lose her anyway, he wasn’t going to combine that pain with the horror of sitting out the rest of his life in prison.

  No, because it would hurt her. No, because it would break the trust she’d shown in him.

  No, because he couldn’t stand to leave her any sooner than he had to.

  Too many answers to choose from. He couldn’t get the words out.

  He said, “What did Martin mean when he said something was written all over your face?”

  “He meant I’m a bad poker player. I always have been.” She exhaled, her breath a white cloud in the freezing air. “He meant that he knew that using a personal car wouldn’t be a problem.” Her eyes met his, and he felt another unbelievable jolt of connection, his soul clicking against hers like a magnet against steel. “Mostly, he meant that after all this is over, after we get you safely to Bergen, he and I are going to look into your case and see what we can do to help your appeal.”

  “I don’t have an appeal,” Cooper said automatically, too stunned by everything else to even process it. “No one else wanted to take my case.”

  “Then we’ll get you a lawyer. A good one.” She scanned the horizon, and he recognized the tension in her body: she was keeping calm for his sake, but she was worried about them being out in the open. “We should get going.”

  A few hours ago, if he’d even imagined sitting in the front seat of a civilian car, his hands and ankles both unchained, Cooper would have pictured himself luxuriating in every single detail.

  He could roll his shoulders back, working out a crick that had been there all day. He could stretch out his legs. He could enjoy the almost-forgotten pleasure of being somewhere that didn’t have that stale prison smell to it, that fug of unwashed bodies, cramped living conditions, and bad food. Even the regular transport car had had that smell: it had worked its way into the upholstery, with only Gretchen’s fresh scent alleviating it. All Martin’s car smelled like was clean laundry: there was a cotton-scented air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror.

  But he couldn’t focus on any of that.

  All he could think about was that Gretchen had just said she would help him.

  She believed him. Not only did she believe him, she believed that the possibility of getting him set free would be worth her time and effort. Appeals could be a long, heartbreaking process, with no certain outcome, and there was no way Gretchen didn’t know that just as well as he did. She would have been dragged up to testify at appeals before, some with good grounds and some with only the flimsiest of justifications; she knew how slowly the machinery of the law could grind. But she was willing to sink herself into that.

  For his sake. For him.

  He said hoarsely, “Thank you. For everything.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing.”

  He disagreed, but either way: “I want to thank you for believing it is the right thing.”

  “You trusted me,” Gretchen said, and he knew that she was talking about the black car—the black car that had stopped being black, with its gunmen who had somehow been able to mask their faces in confusion and distraction. He had believed her, even though it had all seemed to fly in the face of logic. “It’s only fair for me to trust you back.”

  But that wasn’t the same thing. Gretchen was so obviously trustworthy that only an idiot would ever think she didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “You really think I’m innocent?”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t take her eyes off the road, and for some reason, that made him trust even more that she was telling him the truth. She wasn’t trying to convince him of her sincerity. She was as confused about all this as he was, and she was staying focused on the one thing she was sure of: the job. “I know none of this would stand up in court, but I just can’t see you doing anything like that, not in a thousand years. You could have run back during the shootout, but you didn’t.”

  “They were shooting at me, to be fair.”

  He didn’t want to argue against his own innocence, but he didn’t want her to co
me up with these objections later, on her own. He wanted her to be sure. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand it if he really accepted that she believed him... and then she decided she thought he was guilty after all.

  Gretchen did turn around to look at him then, her mouth curved up at one corner in a kind of playfulness he hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. “So in this scenario, the scenario where you’re guilty, you didn’t run back there because you didn’t want to get shot?”

  “Somebody could argue that.”

  “Kind of a weird choice to try to shield me with your body, then. A little counterproductive.”

  He barely even remembered that. It had been pure instinct, even more elemental and primal than any protecting he’d ever done on the job. He couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt.

  “You’re good, Coop,” Gretchen said softly. “You wouldn’t have sold out your witnesses for a little extra cash. I can’t believe that.”

  No one had said that to him, not once since all this had started.

  Roger had been his chief for years, and he had never said that. Monroe, another Marshal in their office, had worked with Cooper all that time too, and he’d disappeared from Cooper’s life completely as soon as the cuffs had clicked around Cooper’s wrists.

  It had mostly been radio silence from everyone else he’d known, too. He had hopped around too much over the years to have anyone who really knew him. No family, no real friends.

  He hadn’t had anybody on his side in so long that he barely even remembered what it felt like—not just to have someone believe him but to have someone believe in him.

  When Gretchen said she knew what kind of person he was, it was the only confirmation he’d ever really had that he was the person he had always hoped he was.

  He didn’t know if he could ever explain all of that to her, but he had to try. She deserved to know what this meant to him.

  “No one—” He had to clear his throat. “No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

  No one had ever even called him Coop before, for that matter. They’d never gotten familiar enough with him to nickname him.