Fit to Be Tied [Marshals: 2] (14 page)

“All right.”

“Thank you, sir,” I croaked, my voice faltering. “It means everything to me.”

He grunted.

“I really appreciate—”

“Go collect your partner, Jones, and get home to pack. You’re on a plane in the morning.”

I realized that just because he saw things my way didn’t mean we’d had a breakthrough and were going to be friends.

I turned and left him as fast as I could but miscalculated the corner at the end of the corridor and clipped my shoulder. It hurt more than I expected, and I had to wonder where my head was. I might have been just a bit overwrought.

T
HE
PROTOCOLS
for being on loan to another district were daunting, and even more so when going in undercover, so we had to sit with Kage and basically go through a binder of paperwork. I felt bad for Ian because it was a huge waste of time since he wasn’t going to end up going, but there was no way around it. Kage would talk to him alone; that was the way of it. Ian couldn’t argue with Kage over the phone, but he could in person. Kage would wait until we were home to call.

Once we were finally done, I made a call about Chickie. Aruna was, of course, giddy to have the werewolf stay with her, and when I drove him over to her at one in the morning, even tired as she was—full-time mom plus working from home—she was cognizant enough to explain to me yet again that if Ian wanted to gift her with his dog, he could come over and see Chickie whenever he wanted. I ignored her, told her to stay away from our Greystone for any reason, and promised to call from the road.

“Why can’t I go by your place?” she asked as I stood in her doorway. She’d hugged the daylights out of me, as usual. For a teeny little thing she was really strong.

“Because I’m telling you not to,” I ordered. “It’s not safe. My place will be under surveillance.”

“Surveillance?” She was instantly suspicious and her eyebrows furrowed dangerously.

“Don’t worry about it. Just stay clear.”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “You’ll be safe, right?”

“Of course.”

“You’re a godfather now,” she reminded me. “For crap’s sake, Miro, you need to stay in one piece.”

“Come on, don’t get all—”

“Miroslav Jones!” she yelled, whacking me on the arm for good measure.

Ugh, my full name. “Sorry, sorry.”

“I need you to be careful!” she insisted, adding a foot stomp.

“Yes, dear, I will,” I promised and then left before she could interrogate me any further.

When I finally got home again, at all of 2:00 a.m., Ian was packed, sitting on the end of the bed and texting someone.

“Who’re you talking to?”

“Kowalski and Kohn,” he said, chuckling. “They want to know how much luggage you end up leaving on our reassignment with.”

“You’re not supposed to tell anyone where we’re going,” I snapped.

He was scowling as he looked up at me.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I groaned, realizing that I’d just lectured the black ops guy on keeping a secret. “Where’d you tell them we’re going?”

“I didn’t,” he said with a shrug. “Kage told them we’re going undercover, and that’s the end of it.”

I hadn’t thought of it like that, but really, that was all anyone needed to know. Whenever Ian was deployed, I never questioned him.

“What?”

I glanced over at him, unsure what he was talking about.

“You made a noise.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, tell me what you were thinking,” Ian demanded.

“Just that I guess it’s easy for guys like us to disappear for no reason, and no one would be the wiser. It would make it really easy to cheat.”

“That’s where your mind goes?”

“Small brain.”

“Clearly,” he agreed, his attention back on his phone.

“So what’s with Kohn and Kowalski?”

“They have a bet,” he snickered. “Kohn says four bags, Kowalski says six.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He laughed at me. “A month away, M. I mean, I’m a little curious myself.”

Flipping him off, I walked into the bathroom.

“Wait,” he said, laughing, following me in. “Don’t get all—”

I rounded on him. “You should stay here.”

“Because I’m giving you shit about what you’re taking to Phoenix? Am I being grounded?”

“No, I—I don’t think it’s safe, and the longer I think about it, the more worried I get.”

His glare was dark. “What’re you talking about?”

“If Hartley comes for me, I don’t want you in the way.”

He nodded but said nothing, and after a few moments of the lingering silence, I understood that he was thinking.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Ian, come on.”

“Okay, well, I’m just trying to decide if that’s the stupidest thing you ever said to me or the second stupidest. I’m weighing it out.”

“Ian—”

“No!” he exploded, drilling a finger into my collarbone. “The only place I want to be is with you, and getting between you and Hartley is my entire plan.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt!” I yelled back.

“Then don’t do anything stupid and make sure you fuckin’ protect me,” he growled. “There’s no way I get hurt with you watching my back.”

We both went silent, eyes locked on one another.

He had such faith, and I realized it was the same I had in him. “I’m—” I took a breath. “I’m scared, is all.”

“I know,” he said, stepping into me, into my space, hands on my sides, over my ribs as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “But it’s gonna be okay. I’m not gonna leave you.”

“That’s very comforting, marshal,” I said before I kissed him.

His arms slid around my back as he leaned into the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance that I happily conceded.

The doorbell ringing was the only thing that kept us vertical. It bothered me that, on the way down the stairs, Ian drew his gun and called through the door instead of just opening it. I hated that we had to be on guard in our neighborhood, in our home.

“It’s clear,” Ian let me know as he opened the door. “Finish packing.”

I did as I was told, and minutes later Ian thumped up the stairs, chuckling.

“What’s funny?”

He lifted his head to look at me, and I was struck by the sight of my beautiful man and his crinkly-eyed smile. Sometimes he simply took my breath away.

“Your alias,” he said, laughing, holding up the ID for me.

“Smith?” I read indignantly.

“Because you’re Jones now!” He broke into raucous laughter, finding the whole thing much funnier than it was.

“Who has the small brain?” I asked pointedly.

He would have responded, but his phone rang. I went back to packing while he answered, realizing it was a bit more difficult than I’d thought it would be. After a second I caught a scrap of the conversation.

“I’m sorry. Would you repeat that, sir?”

Kage.

Shit.

I swallowed quickly and then turned to Ian. Even from across the room, I could see him staring daggers at me.

Fuck.

“I understand, sir,” he said as his free hand balled into a fist.

I really wouldn’t have to worry about Hartley anymore, because Ian was going to be the one to kill me. He pivoted to face the wall and drove his fist into it like a sledgehammer. It rattled the armoire beside it.

Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion because I didn’t want him to run after me, I started backing out of the room. As I heard him wrapping up, I quickened my pace.

“Miro!” he roared the second the call ended.

It was not a “run for cover” yell or in any way cautionary. He was pissed.

I decided the better part of valor was to lock myself in the bathroom and was actually impressed that the door held when he kicked it. Although all the doors in our place were solid wood, so I should have had a bit more faith.

“Open this fuckin’ door!” he demanded, kicking it again for emphasis.

“Why’re you mad?”

“Because you talked to Kage and asked him to make me stay here!”

“As I said,” I replied softly, hoping that if I sounded calm, he would become so. “All I was thinking of was you getting hurt, and it kills me even to think about.”

He banged the door. “The only time I don’t wanna be around you is when I’m deployed, yeah? Otherwise, asshole, I wanna be with you.”

“I feel the same,” I said, loud enough so he could hear me from where he was on the other side.

“Well, then,” he coughed, “stop trying to ditch me.”

“But that’s not what we’re talking about,” I qualified. “I cannot, will not, have you hurt, and I don’t see how you expect me to change that.”

It got quiet, so much so that I would have thought he’d walked away if I didn’t know better.

“Miro.”

Even through the barrier between us, I heard the change in his voice. He wasn’t mad anymore. The emotion was gone, replaced by something else altogether.

“Love, open the door.”

Love.

It was crazy. Every drop of air should not have left my body just because Ian Doyle called me something that wasn’t some part of my name.

And mean it—
love—
because he did.

I heard it in his tone; it was gentle and possessive and I knew I was being oversentimental and vulnerable because a psychopath was after me, but still… Ian called me his love, and it was dear and sexy and very, very hot.

It was a wonder I didn’t combust.

Love.

God, who knew I was such a sap?

“Please.”

The growl with just a hint of delicious, seductive evil, the languorous timbre of curling smoke and slow-poured whiskey made me whimper in spite of myself.

“Please, love, open the door.”

“You’re not playing fair, and since when?”

“Since when what?” he answered, his voice so decadently gruff that it was no surprise at all that my dick responded before my brain kicked in.

“Love—” I repeated, “—I doh-don’t—” Shit. “You’re not—you… no endearments.” I gave up. Talking was not happening at the moment.

“I’ll call you whatever I damn well want to. Now open the door.”

 “Ian,” I managed to get out, fingers splayed on the wood as I tried to focus on what I was trying to do and not what I wanted.

“Do you know what it’ll do to me if you keep me from going with you?”

That had actually never occurred to me. I’d been so wrapped up in wanting to keep him safe that I had not considered how he felt.

Not once.

“What if—”

“Is that what we do?” he pressed, and I heard him bump the door. “We sit around and think about what could happen?”

No, we didn’t. That would be the death of us as lovers, partners, marshals—everything. Worrying led to a life of static and I didn’t want that for either of us.

“So because you’re scared, we’ll be apart.” It was a statement, but the sound of him, seductive, silvery, sent a throb of need rushing through me. “And on top of everything else, you’ll miss me, and it’ll be you deciding, finally, what I will or won’t do.”

I wanted to see him, but I didn’t dare open the door. He had me if I did. “That’s not what this is.”

“Oh no? Because it feels like you exercising power over me.”

Shit.

“And you’re not like that,” he concluded softly. “How could you be?”

“Ian—”

“It’s how I know you really love me,” he said, clearing his throat. “You don’t try and change me.”

I scoffed.

“Except for that one thing,” he chuckled.

I smiled wide, alone in the bathroom because, yeah, I wasn’t about to let the marriage thing go. “Okay,” I agreed. Being without him when I didn’t have to be was just plain stupid. I was a lot of things, but not that. Plus, saying no to Ian had always been next to impossible.

A moment ticked by.

“You gonna open the fuckin’ door?”

“Don’t sound so smug,” I shot back.

“Open the door,” he demanded. “I wanna kiss you before we gotta catch the red-eye.”

I couldn’t say no to that, either.

“H
OLY
SHIT
,”
Ian groaned as we got off the shuttle that had taken us from the airport terminal at Sky Harbor International in Phoenix to the one where all the rental car companies were. It was only a circle of pavement, a stone sidewalk, and a glass building, deserted at this time of the morning. We were the only ones out there after the shuttle dropped us off. It was also hot, and I was surprised the temperature was already so high. “This is like fuckin’ AT out in Twentynine Palms all over again.”

I chuckled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and what is AT?”

“Annual training,” he muttered before he put on his aviator sunglasses.

“And Twentynine Palms is what?”

“It’s a hellhole in California towards Nevada, but the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center is there, and that’s the important thing.”

“Oh, you train there with them.”

He nodded. “Sadly, yes.”

“So, what, the temperature reminds you of it?”

“Everything does,” he grumbled. “The dirt I can see over there, the rocks, the cactus—God, I hate the fuckin’ desert.”

“You didn’t have to come.”