Fit to Be Tied [Marshals: 2] (6 page)

He had no idea.

“Ching and Becker are eighteen minutes out. Do not move from that bathroom.”

“Did you just tell me to stay in the bathroom?”

Apparently I was too annoying for words, as evidenced by him hanging up on me. I was going to explain to Lozano and Donatella that these were their tax dollars at work, but as they probably didn’t pay taxes, the observation would be lost on them. Also, they wouldn’t have heard me anyway because they were much too busy making out. I would have made them stop, just to be a dick, but I felt lips on the back of my neck.

“Get off me,” I complained, not meaning it.

“I told you I shot the car,” he murmured in my ear.

Yes, he had.

“We should go to the shooting range, and I can give you some pointers.”

I stalked away from him and went to the bathroom door, making sure no one could come in.

“You want me to come over there and protect you since I can shoot straight?” he teased.

“I have the Uzi,” I volleyed.

“Yeah, but what can you hit with that?”

“Fuck you, Ian!”

He lost it.

I
T
TOOK
the whole night and into the early morning before we were done processing Lozano and Donatella, and when we finally got home, I was not only hungry and sober, but tired and prickly, having been rubbed raw by the ribbing from every single person on my team, including my partner.

I was surprised when I was seized from behind and shoved down on the couch. Ian followed fast, curling over me, grabbing hold of my legs and wrapping them around his hips.

“What’re you—”

“Kiss me,” he demanded huskily, rubbing his groin against mine before bending to capture my mouth.

I evaded his lips. “That teasing was brutal, Ian.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“You were an ass.”

“Yeah, but you love me when I’m like that, so who cares?”

He was right, I did. I loved him like crazy.

“So,” he said, his voice cracking as he gripped my thighs, making sure I stayed there, “could you get over being annoyed and kiss me already?”

“You know, that was pretty great what you did earlier.”

“What was that?” he asked as he shifted over me.

“Just the way you followed me, no questions asked.”

“Always,” he said, smiling at me. “So… about that kiss?”

“Yeah,” I sighed, taking hold of his tie and easing him down to me. “I think I can manage that.”

O
CTOBER
IN
Chicago was already cold, so as we sat outside in the car on the moderately busy city street, I turned the heater on. The problem was, though, that once Ian got warmed up, he was out like a light. Because of his military training, if Ian wanted to sleep, he could do it on command. It took maybe a minute for him to be dead to the world, and it was annoying as hell, because I had to power down my brain to reach that same REM sleep he could achieve so easily. Even sex wasn’t a certainty for knocking me out, and I was frankly more than a little resentful.

“Will you wake up?” I growled, jabbing him with my elbow to roust him.

“What?” he complained, sitting up, scowling at me. “Don’t be jealous.”

I went back to checking the street with the binoculars as he got situated again, leaning his head against the driver’s-side door. We were a street over from the house we were monitoring, our fellow marshals, Eli Kohn and Jer Kowalski, were across the street, and Chicago PD was there with cars on the other three corners of the block. It wasn’t for our case, or even a fugitive the marshals were looking for, but instead another task force op.

“Hey.”

My gaze flicked over to him.

“Why don’t you just tell me already?”

I had no idea what we were talking about. “You lost me,” I said, again glancing around the perimeter to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

“We both know that ever since Altman was here you’ve been even weirder than usual.”

This wasn’t the marriage thing. This was something else, and I really didn’t want to get into it. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Stop,” he ordered. “Spill.”

His Army buddy, Sean Altman, was one of the guys in the twelve-man team Ian was a member of, and whenever Ian was away on a mission, Altman was with him. He was in charge of communications, while Ian was a weapons specialist. Altman had expounded, because I’d asked, what kinds of tasks Operational Detachment Alpha did. He talked about training, and that each member of the team had an insertion specialty—which of course made me snicker, because no matter how old I was on the outside I was still a little boy in my head—but didn’t give me more details about the group. And while I understood, I felt like he shouldn’t have asked what I wanted to know if he really couldn’t say.

I had excused myself to give the two men time alone, but I got annoyed that Ian didn’t stop me, didn’t want me there. Upstairs in bed, I realized how possessive and idiotic I was acting, made peace with the fact that I was being an asshole, and let it go. They stayed up into the early morning hours talking, and I finally fell asleep around two. When I woke up to make coffee, I was surprised that Altman wasn’t passed out on the couch where he’d been the day before.

“Where’s your buddy?” I asked Ian as he walked up behind me and planted a kiss on my bare shoulder.

“He had to go,” was all he said.

But there had been more to it than that, because another week later, Ian had to report to training because Altman had been replaced with a new guy in their group. When I prodded him, he told me he wasn’t sure why Altman had transferred but he was certain the man had his reasons.

“Everyone has reasons, Ian. Don’t you care what they are?”

“It’s none of my business?”

“He’s your friend.”

“He is.”

I was confused. “So I could go ahead and request a new partner, and you wouldn’t want to know why?”

“That’s different and you know it,” he husked, leaning in, hand on my cheek to keep me still as he kissed me. He put his coffee cup down and used his free hand to divest me of my sleep shorts. When he dropped to his knees, I forgot why I cared that Altman hadn’t stayed in my house.

As the weeks wore on, my mind kept returning to Altman, and now, in the car on a stakeout, I had no way to tiptoe around the subject.

“Miro?”

I was good and caught. “What?”

“Don’t do the what, just ask your fuckin’ question.”

I coughed softly. “I want to know why Altman left that night and then later left your group.”

Ian let his head roll sideways so he could see me. “He wanted to fuck me.”

I accidentally inhaled the water I was drinking and nearly drowned right there. “Jesus Christ, Ian!” My roar was loud in the car. “Are you tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me?”

“Nope,” he sighed, “only answering the question.”

“Ian!”

“Stop yelling,” he said with a yawn.

“Then explain.”

Quick shrug. “He told me he was gay.”

“Why? Why would he do that just outta the blue?”

“It wasn’t like that. He trusted me ’cause I came clean with my team the last time I saw them.”

“You did?”

“Sure I did,” he explained. “I couldn’t have them find out by themselves down the road. It wouldn’t be fair. So I told my CO first and then the rest of the team.”

I was overwhelmed. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“You have to be honest with the men you serve with—they have your back.”

“And do they still have yours?”

“Of course,” he said irritably, like how dare I doubt them. “They know me. They’ve been in combat with me. What would have changed?”

“People are stupid sometimes, and the gay part freaks them out.”

“Yeah, okay, but not—you know, my guys. They’re soldiers first. The only thing that matters is do you carry your weight.”

I understood that too.

“But so I told them, and that night Altman was here, he propositioned me.”

I tried hard not to sound defensive. “And what’d you say?”

“What the fuck do you think I said?”

It was the niggling fear in the back of my head… what Ian could have or could do with someone other than me. I wasn’t the only man able to tie him down; he knew others.

I stared at him. He stared back.

I relented. “You trust those guys too.”

“Meaning what?”

I shrugged.

“I’m that easy to give up?”

“You know that’s not how it is.”

“Oh yeah?” he taunted. “How is it, then?”

I leaned into him, close, my mouth hovering over his so we were sharing breath. “I want to know what you told your friend.”

“And I wanna know what’s going on in your head.”

I went to ease back, but he slipped his hand around the side of my neck and held tight, making sure I stayed where I was.

“I’m not the only one who could be in bed with you.” It was true. “We both know it.”

“There are other guys,” he agreed. “There’s no doubt.”

My mouth went dry because this was another fear that rode me, along with him thinking that marriage was not for him.

When we’d started, I’d thought it was only me who could give Ian what he needed physically, but if the men he entrusted his life to were also vying to fuck him… it would be hard for me to compete.

He asked the question I didn’t have the balls to. “So why you, then?”

I pulled away, hating the conversation, mad that I’d brought anything up and wanting it to all just go away. Why I always had to push, I had no idea. I didn’t need to know this badly what had happened with his friend.

“M.”

The streetlights had all my attention.

“Look at me.”

I did as he asked, slowly, reluctantly.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“That’s helpful,” I muttered, letting my head thump sideways against the window.

“Kohn,” Ian said softly, and I realized he was now on his phone. “Miro and I are out for twenty. We gotta eat.”

“Where the fuck are you eating out here? This is Englewood.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning just stay in the fuckin’ car. It ain’t safe.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“The hell it’s not,” he scoffed, and I could hear Kowalski chuckling in the background. “Is your vest on?”

“Could you shut up already and cover our position.”

“10-4,” he said snidely.

I needed air, so I shifted to get out of the car, trying to remember what was close, but Ian grabbed the front of the wool hunting jacket I’d changed into at the office and held tight. “What’re you doing?” I muttered.

He yanked me forward, framed my face with his hands, and kissed me hard, rough. I opened for him as he shoved his tongue inside, seeking mine. It was a hot, brutal onslaught, and I whimpered in the back of my throat as he reached around me to lower the seat so that once he leaned over the console, I was under him, taking what he was giving.

He loosened the long, gray cashmere scarf I had on and made me jolt under him when he suckled the side of my neck.

“Ian—”

He kissed me again, biting my bottom lip to shut me up before his lips settled hungrily, possessively, on mine.

Not much of a talker, my boy, but I heard him anyway, loud and clear.

“I trust you,” he panted in a broken whisper before he went back to mauling my mouth. “Only you.”

Only me.
There was only me.

So yes, he could have other lovers, but he only trusted
me
, and because he did, that translated to a singular desire.

I needed air, so I shoved him back enough to gulp some.

“If I fuck someone else,” he rasped, “I’ll lose you, and I can’t have that.” He looked good all excited and hot for me, with his blown pupils and swollen lips and flushed face. “When Altman said what he did, all I could think was—if I fuck him, Miro’ll leave me, and then he’ll be lookin’ for a new guy to take home and put in his bed, and I wanna be the only guy who ever gets to be there.”

He was the only one I wanted. I didn’t even
see
anyone else but him.

“And besides, you’re way prettier than Altman.”

I snorted out a laugh. Having Ian—the man who was physical perfection himself with his sculpted body and gorgeous eyes; the smoky, seductive sound of his voice and his wicked grin—think I was beautiful was overwhelming. Him wanting me did fantastic things for my ego.

“Miro,” he rumbled, bending to kiss me again, “I’m yours.”

And I knew that, I did.

“Don’t second-guess me. Don’t think stupid shit anymore, all right? I don’t stay ’cause you’re the only guy who
could
hold me down or tie me up or whatever. I stay ’cause it’s us and we’re real and I’m safe, so”—he growled—“stop.”

He was safe because I made him feel that way. There was nothing else he needed and nothing else I wanted. I had an opening there, because in that moment he was vulnerable and I could’ve pushed. It would be easy to bring up the marriage thing again, say that if he felt the way he so obviously did, then there was, in fact, a logical next step. But it was nice between us now, and I didn’t want to screw it up by returning to an already sore subject.