Tied Up in Knots Page 18

  I took a few more sips of the water and found that my stomach was actually settling. And maybe it was the water, or maybe it was the barfing, or simply Josue’s calming demeanor, but whatever it was, I felt human again.

  Turning to him, I grabbed him and hugged him hard. “When my partner’s not here, there’s no one to watch out for me, so I appreciate it.”

  He gave me his weight, leaning heavily, and I knew that he was scared too. His whole life was up in the air, and I needed to remember that.

  “You’re gonna make someone really happy,” I said.

  “It could be you, marshal. Keep it in mind.”

  I pushed him out to arm’s length. “I thought I was taking you to your love.”

  He squinted, clearly giving that some thought.

  “Come on,” I prodded, spinning him around and shoving him toward the door.

  After dropping him off back in the conference room, I took my water with me and returned to Kage’s office. Closing the door behind me, I walked to the couch, took a seat again, and put the glass down on the end table, making sure I used a coaster.

  It was odd. No one in the room said a word. It was like they had all been frozen since I left, except Kage, who was now leaning against the edge of his desk, looking at me.

  “Sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he assured me. “Let us know when you’re ready.”

  I waited another few moments, and then when my gaze met his, Kage gave me a faint, almost imperceptible nod.

  “Okay.”

  Everyone started talking at once until Kage raised his voice, which thundered over everyone else in the room.

  “As far as the FBI has been able to piece together, he became ill on the trip from the prison to the Denver airport. They stopped at a hospital on the way, and the version of events becomes somewhat convoluted from there.”

  I glanced at all the suits sitting in Kage’s office until one of them leaned forward after clearing his throat.

  “We’re unsure where the breakdown in communication was, but as you know, Hartley presents not as a violent offender, but as what he is: a meek, nonthreatening physician.”

  My laughter was sharp, caustic, and it happened before I even knew it was going to explode out of me.

  “Marshal Jones?”

  “Oh, that’s such bullshit,” I barked. “But begging your pardon, sir, I’ve never known Craig Hartley to be nonthreatening. We originally put him in prison because he killed nineteen women.”

  “I know that he—”

  “Nineteen!” I yelled. “Dead. Murdered.”

  “Marshal—”

  “How can a man who’s killed nineteen people ever be considered nonthreatening?”

  “We—”

  “When he escaped last time, he killed a female friend of his who aided him in his flight from custody, murdered an elderly couple and FBI Special Agent Cillian Wojno, kidnapped Saxon Rice, and kidnapped and tortured me. He also murdered every man who worked for him, ten in all, who aided him in my kidnapping and torture. The words ‘meek and nonthreatening’ are not appropriate!”

  No one said a word for a minute, until Kage.

  “You need a minute?”

  I concentrated on calming down. “No sir. I apologize.”

  He lifted his hand. “It’s not necessary.”

  After a moment of regulating my breathing, I gave him a nod.

  “They have confirmed sightings of Hartley crossing into Mexico one week ago, and had him flying out of the Monterrey International Airport two days after that aboard a private plane owned by Javier Aranda.”

  “Aranda is the head of Vicario Capital,” the agent I’d yelled at told me. “He’s based in Nuevo Leon, that’s the front for the Salazar Cartel out of Tamaulipas.”

  Everyone but Kage was looking at me like I should have an opinion. “Okay,” I said to get them to continue.

  “When did Aranda and Hartley become friends?” Kage asked the agent.

  No answer from them so he turned to me. “Jones?”

  I cleared my throat. “I had no idea it was Aranda, but Hartley told me that he flew to Mexico with his team a few years ago to operate on a cartel boss’s mother.”

  “He did?” the agent asked me.

  “Yeah.”

  “And saved her life, of course,” Kage surmised.

  “Yessir. He told me he’d gotten a report and she was the picture of health.”

  “Jesus,” the lead agent let slip.

  I leaned forward and put my face in my hands, not wanting to break down again, feeling the burn in my stomach and the flutter of panic in my chest. It was terrifying to be the expert on all things Hartley, to know more than anyone else since he’d shared so much on my biannual visits to him in prison because he wanted me to know him.

  Everyone wanted to talk to him, all the psychiatrists and psychologists, everyone writing a book about him, every branch of law enforcement. They all yearned for insights into the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind but he was stone-silent except with me.

  Only me.

  I was the one he wrote to and wanted to see and begged to visit. The warden at Elgin had once told me that Hartley had to be in love with me, there was no other explanation. He was wrong, of course, they all were, and I knew that because I knew Hartley. He didn’t love me. In fact, he wanted to kill me, but it had to be done on his timeline, at his pace. When he was in jail, without power, the only weapon he had in his arsenal to hurt me with was his memories. So he’d talked and I’d listened and learned and sadly committed it all to memory. Now Hartley had in me a living, breathing record of his life. I was the authority on him, and it had just been proven again. The FBI had no idea how Hartley and Aranda connected until I told them.

  “Jones?”

  I lifted my head to look at Kage.

  “He knows he’s going back to the supermax to rot if he ever comes back to this country,” he informed me. “Interpol has his name. It’s only a matter of time before he’s captured.”

  “Yessir,” I replied automatically.

  “I’m sorry, Jones.”

  “Why’re you sorry? You did everything in your power to keep me and everyone else safe. This is on the bureau. Squarely.” All eyes on me. “Did he kill anyone?”

  “No,” the lead agent answered. “A nurse was killed by our agents when she got between them and Hartley.”

  “At least he stopped killing his friends,” I muttered, standing up. “I need to process my witness, sir, if I may.”

  “Don’t leave the office until I speak to you.”

  “Yessir,” I said before I got up and left.

  As soon as I closed the door behind me, the room erupted in noise. I caught enough of it to hear something about questioning me about where Hartley might have gone and Kage forbidding it absolutely and in perpetuity and he wasn’t fucking around. They were never getting another shot at me.

  My heart ached, and the need for Ian, in that moment, nearly drove me to my knees. I wanted to be held and to lean and to be protected, and it was stupid and needy but I couldn’t help it. I wanted him more than anything.

  “So?” Becker said as I began moving toward my desk.

  I shoved it down—the pain, the craving for my man—and forced a smile because watching me break down, crumble, did nothing for anyone, especially me.

  Looking around, I noted the whole team was there, only Ian not in attendance. “So,” I announced to the room, using Becker’s word. “Guess who gave the Feds the slip on his holiday from the supermax?”

  “The hell you say,” Sharpe gasped. “How?”

  “Does the bureau not get that Hartley’s a bad guy?” Dorsey wanted to know.

  “That’s insane,” Kohn spat.

  “Hartley asked for a miracle, but he doesn’t need them,” I teased, breaking into an exaggerated grin. “He’s got the F… B… I.”

  “Him and Hans Gruber,” Ryan groused.

  I laughed but
it sounded too high, too fake, and almost shrill. “Get in there and process my witness intake, monkey.”

  “Don’t,” Ryan said, getting up and crossing the room to me. “You don’t have to be all how you’re being. This is us.”

  I glanced around the room, and the looks I got back were not judgmental. Instead they were concerned.

  “Let’s go get the paperwork done,” Dorsey offered, walking over to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. “The quicker we do, the quicker you can get home and get some rest.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “You’re not,” Kohn argued. “I wouldn’t be either. Just get your witness taken care of so we can all go get some dinner or something.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” I groused.

  “You’re arguing when you should be taking care of the mountain of paperwork,” Kowalski chimed in. “You know it’ll take hours.”

  I did know that. People thought there were a lot of documents to sign when you bought a house. A mortgage company had nothing on WITSEC. The Justice Department knew how to create a paper trail, and it started with chopping down a big-ass tree.

  “Come on,” Ryan prodded, hand on my bicep, tugging on me like he never did. “Let’s go get your new kid processed, all right?”

  I followed obediently, okay with him piloting me along. It was nice that they all cared enough to be worried. I went with him and Dorsey back to Josue, and when I took a seat beside him, Josue bumped me with his shoulder and said he’d missed me.

  “I see.” Dorsey yawned, nodding. “You just got two of your kids out of the house, and you’re moving this one in.”

  I made a noise and put my head down on the table. “You know me,” I whined, closing my eyes. “I’m a caregiver.”

  “I know,” he agreed which kind of surprised me with how nice he was being.

  “You need to sleep,” Ryan stated.

  Everyone always told me that. “I will tonight.”

  “See that you do.”

  KAGE CALLED me away from the conference room about an hour and half later, and surprisingly, instead of dragging me into his office, he took me downstairs. Not to the coffee and bagel truck always outside our building, but around the corner to one I’d never seen because I always stopped at the first one. As we got into line, I was going to ask what was good, but he started talking before I could get the question out.

  “Just so you know, Carrington Adams’s family really appreciated all you did in bringing them closure.”

  I hadn’t done anything beyond report what I’d been told. “Were they happy with his award?”

  “They were, and his pension is going to fund a scholarship in his name at his old high school.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It is,” Kage agreed, tightening the scarf around his neck. “And we have the final separation paperwork for your two witnesses.”

  I grunted.

  “Something funny?”

  “Just that, that makes it sound like Doyle and I will never see them again, when the opposite is true.”

  He nodded. “They’re young. It makes sense that you’d stay in their lives.”

  Of course he understood, I would have assumed no less.

  Years ago, when I’d first started working for Kage, I’d thought he was cold but fair and not sentimental at all. But over time I’d learned so much more about him. Like he was stern, but only because he worried, and when he yelled it was normally because one of us, his men, had scared him. He was loyal, dependable, and always kept his word. I hoped to someday measure up to him. He was what I wanted to be.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “For?”

  I cleared my throat. “Understanding that not everything has to be exactly by the book.”

  “We get as close as we can.”

  “Yessir.” I exhaled, feeling how down deep in my bones tired I was. “My plan is to have the new kid over for turkey as well.”

  “Again I have no issue with that. You and Doyle are very professional in the bulk of your dealings with witnesses. The young ones without families, the orphans.… I didn’t have any of those. All the kids I dealt with had parents.”

  “Well, Doyle and I get all the fun stuff, sir.”

  “Oh yes, you do,” he said snidely, stepping up to the window and smiling wide, which I never saw him do normally. “Good afternoon, Iris.”

  The young woman there absolutely melted, but not in the way a woman would over a handsome man. It was more like he was just too dear for words. “Uncle Sammy, your regular?”

  “And one for him too.”

  Her eyes flicked to me and now there was interest, which was nice since lately I’d been feeling like yesterday’s leftovers. “Hi there.”

  I smiled up at her. “Hello back.”

  “I’m Iris,” she said, offering me her hand. “Do you work for my uncle?”

  “Miro, and yeah, I do.” Her hand was delicate and warm in mine.

  “You must be special. He never brings anyone around.”

  “Enough of that,” Kage grumbled.

  The warm chuckle told me he didn’t scare her one bit. “And are you a fan of Vietnamese coffee too?”

  “Sure,” I said, because I did not want to disappoint the cherub with her dark-auburn hair, great big long-lashed emerald eyes, and alabaster skin. She should have been modeling somewhere, not working on a food truck.

  Kage gave her a twenty, which she shook her head over, and then his brow furrowed and she took the money. We then walked over to one of the stone benches and sat down.

  It was funny, us being there together, because there I was with my boss and I couldn’t remember the last time Ian and I had just taken a walk out to the food truck in the middle of the day. We were either working or he was gone. When was the last time we just hung out? Went to a quiet dinner? I also couldn’t recall the last time we just sat together and watched football or soccer or went to see a baseball game. All we did was work and argue when we weren’t. How had that happened? How did everything become so hard?

  “Jones?”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I just wanted to tell you that Cochran and his partner are both being loaned out to a DEA task force in Plano for the next month.”

  “Where is that?”

  He squinted at me. “That’s in Texas, Jones.” The way he said it, like I was just too stupid for words, was not nice. “So do you want to be reassigned to another city due to Hartley’s escape?”

  I shook my head. “No thank you, sir. It didn’t work that well the last time.” And I didn’t want to go anywhere without Ian being there to discuss it with. If he got home and I was gone…. “If he wants me, he’ll find me, but maybe this time he’ll actually stay away. He might be ready to get back to something other than revenge.”

  “Is that what you think it is?”

  “Sir?”

  “You do realize that Hartley has never come after you for revenge.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “He admires you, Jones. You caught him, and then you saved his life. He worships you.”

  “It’s not that I doubt you, sir, but he keeps trying to kill me.”

  “And you keep eluding him. Again there’s a lot to admire there.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “In his own sick, twisted way, he might even love you.”

  “Where are you getting this?”

  He shrugged. “If he wanted you dead, couldn’t he simply have shot you?”

  That was true.

  “Instead he took a rib from you. He needed something from inside your body, that’s how much he needed to have a part of you.”

  “He’s a psychopath. Nothing he does makes any sense.”

  “Yes, it does,” he argued, straightening a bit as Iris walked over with filled paper plates and napkins and delivered one to Kage and the other to me.

  “I’ll grab the coffee,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “And Dad says
that the lure he wants is on sale at Park, and you better get over there soon.”

  He cleared his throat. “You tell your father that it’ll be a cold day in hell before I replace that lure.”

  She giggled. “Seriously. What was it, like, six bucks?”

  “So not the point, little girl.”

  Shaking her head, she left to get us the coffee.

  “That girl is your niece, sir?”

  “She’s my buddy Pat’s oldest. She just graduated from college and already she owns four of these things. She started it with her boyfriend when they were freshmen, and they added a truck a year.”

  “Holy crap.”

  “I know. She’s an entrepreneur at twenty-two.”

  “Can she cook?”

  He tipped his head at me, and I took a bite of the messy sandwich and found out quickly that yes, God, she certainly could.

  “That’s amazing.”

  “That’s her mother’s hot and spicy chorizo recipe, with a fried egg and enough cheddar cheese on it to stop your heart.”

  It was heaven on a plate.

  “Her mother must be an amazing cook.”

  Kage nodded as he ate, and Iris brought us two large clear cups with lids, filled with coffee mixed with milk, but it wasn’t a latte. It was different.

  “It’s a dark-roast coffee poured on top of sweetened condensed milk,” Kage explained. “That’s why it tastes that way.”

  “It’s good.”

  “Eat your sandwich.”

  “Yessir.”

  Chapter 13

  I WAS exhausted. I hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours in the past forty or so, but I got my second wind after I ate and even remembered to bring back a sandwich and coffee for Josue. He was very appreciative of the food but made sure Dorsey knew he was still listening attentively to all the facets of witness relocation he was going over for him.

  Social Security card, driver’s license, school enrollment—which Josue was certain he wanted no part of—and job placement.

  “We’ll be here every step of the way,” Dorsey assured him.

  Josue would go from being Hess to Morant, and we had new documents ready to go. It made him sad to give up his name; I could tell from the quick inhale of breath and the bite down on his bottom lip.