Tied Up in Knots (24 page)

Literally everyone in the room was staring at me.

“What?” I asked because it was creepy as hell.

“So,” Sharpe drew out the word. “What’re we having for Turkey Day?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Tell me what you want me to bring, asswipe.”

“What I want you to bring?”

“Man, how tired are you?”

Was I awake?

“What?” White called over to me. “You’re not just inviting the children over, are you?”

A quick glance around clarified it wasn’t only the two of them asking. Everybody was interested in my answer. You could hear a pin drop in the normally noisy space. “No?”

“That’s right, no,” White agreed. “Me and Pam will bring some booze and her world-famous cranberry salad.”

“Great,” I replied woodenly, because how was this happening?

“My folks are on a cruise this year,” Becker informed me as I did a slow turn in my chair to face the room. “And Olivia’s family’s in Portland, as you know.”

I had no earthly idea that his wife’s family lived in Oregon.

“What do you want us to bring?”

“I—”

“My family’s going to my brother’s place in Hartford,” Ching explained before I could answer Becker, “but Gail has an HR training to give that Monday, so we can’t go.”

I nodded.

“I’ll text her and see if she wants to make stuffing, and I make an ambrosia salad that’ll melt your face off.”

Was that a good thing?

“My mother’s cooking, and she’ll wanna pack a ton of it for you, so count on me for a crapton of sides,” Kohn promised, giving me a nod like it was all settled.

“My folks are going to see my brother Elliot and his wife this year, Jones, so after we drop by her folks’ place, Sandi and me are all yours,” Dorsey said like he was doing me a favor, and with his wife, he was. I’d take Sandi Dorsey; she was kind, funny, and down-to-earth. Her asshat husband was a whole other story. “She’ll wanna make this broccoli cheese casserole for you. It’s real good.”

I had no doubt.

“Olivia makes a pecan pie that’s to die for,” Becker chimed in. “She won’t make it for me because I’ll eat the whole thing, but I bet I could get her to make it for you.”

I glanced over at him.

“She seems to like you, for whatever reason.”

Jesus.

How many people were coming over for a dinner I’d bought nothing for?

“I make a killer green bean casserole,” Kowalski told me, “and Theresa has this recipe for crispy roasted rosemary sweet potatoes that you’ll be addicted to the minute you taste them.”

“I’ll bring leftovers from my mom’s too. I still owe you pie, right?” Ryan yawned.

I was just slightly overwhelmed.

“I think he needs a nap,” Kohn commented, and I flipped him off.

“He needs a drink,” Sharpe suggested, getting up from his desk. “And it’s happy hour.”

And that, finally, sounded like a good idea.

I PASSED
tired and hit that level sort of delirium where I was functioning outside my body and everything was brighter and funnier and more interesting than it should have been. The vodka didn’t help at all. I should have just gone home, but the idea of walking into the empty house—Aruna had Chickie, as usual—of not having Ian there did scary, twisty things to my heart. So I was scared to go home and face the lonely bed, scared to sleep and face my fears, not ready to share any of that with any other soul, so eating pub food, drinking like a fish, and playing pool with the guys were the only salvation I could find.

We were loud, obnoxiously so, and Sharpe was hustling games, not in a fun, nonserious way but in a dickhead asshole way until finally White cut him off, grabbed him and his jacket, and said they were going home.

“No, no, no,” Sharpe whined, reaching for me but missing my shoulder when White yanked him sideways. “Pam’s gonna make me sit on the couch and share how I feel and make me watch romantic comedies while we have tea.”

That was hysterical, and I couldn’t stop laughing. He looked horrified as White dragged him out of the sports bar, yelling “mañana,” which was funny coming out of him because it was probably the only Spanish he knew.

I was surprised that the others were ready to call it a night, all going home to their wives, which I envied, all except Kohn and Ryan, who actually wanted me to get lost because they were going bowling. Apparently Ryan had met a really nice girl who had a friend.

“Why Kohn and not Sharpe?” I asked Ryan as we left the bar.

“Sharpe’s still kinda mad at his ex,” he said with a shrug. “You can’t be nice to someone new when you’re still living in the past.”

My phone rang, and I told them to go ahead without me and enjoy their night, and walked down the street a little ways where it wasn’t so noisy before I even checked the display. When I did, confirmed that it wasn’t, in fact, Ian calling, my heart sank. It was stupid; he was busy with God knew what. But still, I felt like a boat drifting around without an anchor, and I needed my goddamn anchor to be with me.

I needed Ian.

“Hello?” I answered, all choked up, coughing quickly, trying to play it off for whomever was on the other end. It was probably someone I knew, but I didn’t recognize the number and I was too out of it to decipher the area code.

“Miro?”

Just her saying my name was enough to identify the voice. “Hey, Powell,” I teased Janet. “Whatcha doin’, Mom?”

She sucked in a breath.

I went from drunk to sober that fast. It always amazed me when that happened, but a sad, wet sound from one of my oldest, dearest friends did it instantly. “Oh shit,” I whispered, making the only intuitive leap I could manage. “Honey, it’s okay, you’re gonna make a great mom.”

“How do you know?”

Bingo. “’Cause you were the first person in my whole life who ever took care of me.”

And that was it. She was sobbing.

“Awww shit.”

Glancing around, in over my head, I noticed Ryan and Kohn still standing there.

“What?” I mouthed silently. Kohn made the sign for me to hang up. I made the sign for them to go. Ryan shook his head and I understood. No one drank alone; it was a Kage rule, a marshal rule, a federal mandate for all law enforcement that carried a firearm. It was why there were always two, why everyone had a partner, because there needed to be someone there to watch out for you and have your back at all times. Even if both marshals were drinking, unless they were at home, one drank far less. Someone always had to be, if not sober, then well under the legal limit. Neither Ryan nor Kohn would let me out of their sight until they talked to me and heard what I was doing and where I was going.

Putting my hand up for them to wait, I got back to my girl.

“Why don’t you come out for turkey day and stay the rest of the weekend,” I offered.

She sniffled. “Will Ian want me?”

“Ian’s not here,” I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “I think he’s in your city, actually, involved in an inquest about a guy he served with, or if not, he’s been deployed. I’ve called him a million times in the last twenty-four hours and he ain’t pickin’ up. So if you could come keep me company and hold my hand and hug me in the middle of the night when I have bad dreams, that’d be awesome.”

“You need me?” Her voice quavered.

“Yeah.”

She blew her nose. “How come you’re not going to Aruna’s?”

“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.”