Fit to Be Tied [Marshals: 2] (26 page)

“He took a rib.”

“And no one can see that from the outside, but scars they could,” she said adamantly, and I could see how upset she was getting. I really had scared her to death, and she hated that. She liked things she could control; it was why she was a neurosurgeon. “Now it’s your story to share or not, as you see fit.”

“Okay,” I soothed her, squeezing her hand tight.

We were quiet a moment.

“So how come they let a neurosurgeon operate on me?”

“Because I’m good,” she snarled.

“Okay, okay.” I chuckled “So am I gonna live?”

“Of course,” she assured me with a glare.

“Good,” I sighed as I closed my eyes. “Tell me before you go home, okay?”

“Yes, dear.”

I felt her lips on my forehead again before I fell asleep.

S
HE
STAYED
three days and then had to go home to her job and husband. It was for the best; she was driving my physician bonkers and annoying the crap out of Ian. Catherine had a way of getting under your skin, and even though she was really trying with him, she blamed Ian for not being with me on the op. Had he been closer, maybe I wouldn’t have been taken. It was nuts because it was no one’s fault, particularly not his, but she needed someone to blame and he was handy. But really, he blamed himself enough as it was, not missing even one opportunity to berate his own actions.

“So,” I began, because my friend was gone and we could talk freely. “Any news on Hartley?”

“He’s still at large,” he answered woodenly.

“Ah.”

“You like that? It’s how the FBI announces shit. Dr. Craig Hartley is still at large.”

“And?”

“He’s considered very dangerous though not armed.”

“I see.”

“You know how we know he’s not?”

“Not what?”

“Armed, idiot.”

I snorted. “Tell me.”

“Because your gun was recovered at the scene.”

“No shit?” I was happy for some ridiculous reason. “You have my gun?”

He nodded. “I have your gun.”

“Why is that such good news?”

“Because it’s one more thing he didn’t take.”

Exactly. “Yeah.”

He stared at me a moment and then stalked over to the window. “You know this whole thing… Phoenix—” Ian fumed as he turned and paced my room, “—was a disaster from the beginning. We should have stayed home.”

“Which would have worked if there was no big-ass scary leak the size of Cleveland in the mix,” I countered.

“This is the furthest from funny that something could be.” His voice was dark and the accompanying snarl warned that he should not be teased.

I went ahead and baited him. “You didn’t have to come.”

“This is fuckin’ serious.”

“I know.”

“You could have died!”

“I know,” I agreed, waiting for him to get closer.

“You were—I couldn’t—” he rasped, pacing closer to the bed. “You were gone. You just disappeared. It took a minute to lose you.”

“I wasn’t lost. I was taken.”

“Don’t you think
I know
that?” His voice got big.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Don’t say that to me,” he warned.

“You didn’t have—”

“I’m not kidding!”

“You didn’t—”

“Miro!”

“You—”

“This is
funny
to you?” He was incredulous, and it showed in his flushed face, furrowed brows, and hands balled into fists.

I shrugged with one shoulder, since the other one was covered in bandages and tape.

He moved fast and hovered over me, hands on either side of my head. Up close, I saw the pain in his eyes, how puffy they were, raw and red, and the slight tremble in his lower lip, the muscles cording in his jaw and neck. I heard how rough his breathing was.

“Miro,” he rasped.

I slipped my hands around the sides of his neck and slowly lifted toward him.

“It’s not—I can’t—you’re not replaceable.”

“I know,” I said, smiling as I brushed my lips over his.

“It’s not funny.”

“No,” I agreed, coaxing, my voice husky as I kissed him again, longer the second time, my tongue running over his bottom lip.

He shuddered, the full body kind, and I felt the roll of desire tumble through me. His need was obvious; he had to be shown that I was okay, and me holding him down was necessary. The problem was, at the moment, I couldn’t.

“I was gonna give up,” I confessed, and when he leaned back, I saw how focused on me he was, listening. “But then I thought, that’s not me. I don’t do that, and Ian, you, would miss me. I’m not just your partner at home, in bed. I’m your partner on the job and I have your back.”

He nodded slightly.

“So there was no choice. I had to get back to you.”

His eyes filled. “There was nothing I could do.”

Oh, he was hurt down deep. “Are you sorry?”

“What?”

I had to dig it out of him or it would fester and become something we couldn’t get past. “Are you sorry you started up with me?”

He squinted, obviously lost.

“If you
didn’t
love me, it wouldn’t have felt like that.”

He searched my face.

“But… if you didn’t
love
me,” I repeated, slower, “it wouldn’t have felt like that.”

It took him several breaths to answer as I petted the sides of his neck and kissed his left temple and his right cheek and nuzzled the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.”

I lifted both eyebrows, questioning. “Yeah, what?”

“Yeah, it’s worth it,” he growled. “Yeah, I felt like I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe, but—I wouldn’t change it or… even if I could go back, I wouldn’t.”

“You could change it now,” I apprised him. “We could go back to being—”

“That would be easy for you?”

“That would fuckin’
kill
me,” I swore, gripping him tighter. “But you have to know what you can do, what you can gamble on and what you can live with. I do it whenever you’re deployed. I hold my breath the whole time you’re gone.”

I saw it hit him, the reality of what I was telling him, the truth of it. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah,” I said, letting him go. “You think it’s your job and it sucks being away from me and your life, but for me—it’s like that.”

“’Cause you don’t know.”

I nodded. “I never have any idea when you’ll be back.”

“Or if.”

“I don’t do ‘if,’” I retorted, suddenly annoyed. “I never do ‘if.’”

We were silent, staring at each other.

“Okay,” he finally said.

“Okay, what?”

“Don’t be so quick to offer me an out next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Make sure,” he grumbled as he leaned in and kissed me, tipping my head back and opening my mouth.

Dominant Ian full of hunger was a huge turn-on, and my dick noticed, hardening fast.

“Miro?” he asked before he kissed me again, continuing his lazy, decadent assault, each drugging kiss becoming another and another, sucking on my tongue, feasting on my lips, pressing me down, his warm hand on my chest. When he tried to pull back, I fisted my hand in his Henley and held him where he was. “Oh, you want me,” he said arrogantly, breaking the kiss to grin at me, bumping my nose with his.

“Could you—” I had to swallow hard to get my voice back. “Get in my lap?”

His chuckle was deep and sexy, and I couldn’t stifle my groan. “I’m sorry, what did you need?”

I squirmed on the bed, which made him smile, and to see it with how wrecked he looked made me deliriously happy. It was clear that Ian Doyle loved me very much. I could see it all over him.

“Just lay there and be good and don’t tease me. You have at least three more days until you’re even out of here, let alone ready to engage in any sexual intercourse.”

“What if I get a note from the doctor?”

He shook his head. “That fuck took a rib out of you,” he finished, and I saw the pain flicker across his face.

“No-no-no.” I stopped him, hooking my hand on the collar of the Henley and trying to yank him down to me. “Stay hot for me. Focus on that, focus on me.”

“M—”

“Ian,” I begged, hand around the back of his neck, slipping up into his hair. “Don’t get so caught up in what could have been that you lose track of what
is
.”

“No, I know.”

“I’m here, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re happy?”

“That’s a stupid fuckin’—”

“Tell me,” I demanded.

He took a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“Well, then,” I said before I drew him down to me.

I made enough noise after he ravished my mouth, with endless pleading and suggestions about how he could draw the curtains and lock the door, that he had to stuff a pillow over my face to get me to be quiet. It wasn’t my fault. I really wanted to go home.

W
E
FLEW
home on Sunday, and by the time we made it to the townhouse, people were there.

“Shit,” I grumbled, and Ian snickered behind me.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” I said as I followed behind him on my crutches. “You ain’t gettin’ laid either.”

He laughed harder, and when he opened the front door, Chickie came bounding over to me and tried to take the crutch away. I waved at the crowd crammed into our living room as they all applauded.

Aruna was holding her daughter, Sajani, and when I reached her, I stopped before hugging her because I got distracted with what was going on in front of me. Having been shooed away from me, Chickie was now sitting patiently in front of Aruna, his entire focus riveted on the baby in her arms. Sajani was squealing, kicking her feet, and cooing down at the dog.

“What happens if you put her on the floor?” I asked.

“Oh Miro, you’re home and—”

“Lemme see,” I interrupted, smiling because Chickie’s tail was thumping so hard and fast that it sounded like a motor.

Aruna rolled her eyes and put Sajani on the floor, much to Chickie’s obvious glee. He danced a few feet away, turned, crouched down, and whined at her.

Sajani was laughing as she crawled over to him. The second her teeny hand gently brushed his nose, he repeated the motion, darting away, but not far, got down and waited again.

“She crawls now?” I was amazed.

“Quite well, yes,” she sighed, leaning into me, arm around my waist, head notched underneath mine. “And she loves that stupid dog.”

“So what do you do when they’re doing that?”

“I sit on the couch and eat Godiva,” she said snidely.

Hurt or not, I was treading on thin ice. I knew she was a new mother who now also worked from home. “I’m just giving you shit.”

“Yes, dear,” she said, kissing my cheek. “I know.”

Minutes later, I flopped down on a corner of my sectional, and the members of our team were fast to take the other spots: Kohn on my left, Kowalski on his, then White on my right, and Sharpe on his. Becker and Ching sat on the rustic, industrial coffee table, which I was lucky was very sturdy, and Dorsey and Ryan hovered beside them.

“So, you good?” Ching asked what no one else seemed able to.

“Yeah.”

He pointed at me. “He took a rib?”

I nodded.

He leaned forward. “When we catch him, I’ll take one of his.”

It meant a lot coming from him, and when I patted his knee, he covered my hand for a second before nodding.

“Did they tell you about Wojno?” Becker asked me.

“Miro, I made shepherd’s pie. I’m serving you some!” Aruna called from the kitchen.

I twisted in my seat to look over at her. “Do you even know how to make that?”

Her gaze could peel paint.

“Oh, for crissakes, I’m sorry.”

“Liam’s mother taught me, you asshat,” she snapped at me. “Just sit there and look pretty, will you?”

I threw up my hands, much to the enjoyment of my fellow marshals, their peals of laughter making me smile in spite of myself.

“Hey,” Becker said, snapping his fingers to get my attention. “Listen.”

He then had all my attention, as well as Ian’s. He was lingering behind me, leaning on the console table behind the couch.

“Wojno’s dead.”

“What?” I barely got out.

“Yeah. Hartley—and we know ’cause his DNA is all over the body—he took out his rib cage and left him on the side of the road.”

I processed that, everything becoming clear. “That was supposed to be me, right? I mean, that was his plan. I just didn’t hang around long enough.”

“No,” Kohn argued. “He was careful with you.”

“Because he didn’t want me dead that fast. It was gonna be a long, slow painful process.”

“Stop,” Aruna ordered as she approached the coffee table, pushing by the men, reaching for my hand. “Get up, come sit at the table and eat and visit and talk to me and your friends. Once I go, you can talk about all the horrors you want.”

Kowalski and Becker lifted me to my feet, and Kohn helped me around the couch until I could reach Ian. Putting my hand on his shoulder, I hobbled over to the kitchen table and took a seat on one end of the bench. It was a picnic-style setup, so we never had to go hunting for chairs.

The food was good. Everything Aruna ever made was. The loaded shepherd’s pie—apparently Liam’s mom gave hers a little kick—grape, avocado, and arugula salad; homemade yeast rolls with cinnamon butter; and chocolate peanut butter brownies for dessert because Aruna knew they were Ian’s favorite. Watching her hug him was particularly endearing.