Tied Up in Knots (Marshals Book 3) Page 19

  “It’s not forever,” I reminded him. “Really.”

  He nodded instead of crying.

  “It’s only for a while, and whatever you do as Morant will be reinstated to Hess as soon as you’re out of the program. Or you could fall in love with Morant because it’s all yours and keep it forever. It’s up to you.”

  Another quick nod as he wiped under both eyes.

  “But whatever you want.”

  “Okay.”

  Dorsey went on to explain about the furnished apartment he’d be living in until we found him a permanent one that would be his to do with as he saw fit.

  “You’re starting a brand new life, and that takes a fuckton of stuff,” I said, interrupting for maybe the tenth time.

  “Do you wanna do this?” Dorsey groused.

  I shut up because reading through the titanic document, pointing out where to sign, and giving the whole spiel was not something I was up for at the moment.

  It took another two hours, and then Sharpe and White went with me to show Josue where he’d be living in the interim.

  The federal safe house we took him to was a suite in a high-rise downtown close to our office, in a scary security building with a guard at the door and another behind the front desk. Sharpe gave Josue the key fob that gave him access to the elevator, showed him how to use it, and White gave him the laminated instructions Josue would need once we got up to the suite. White watched him change the key code for the floor, as well as the one to get into the apartment. It was a whole ordeal of punching in digits and then using the lock on the door, which also had one of those special computer keys that couldn’t be copied at Walmart or wherever. It was all state-of-the-art crap that, as far as I knew, no one had ever tried to bypass.

  Josue was not a high-threat target; he was a low-risk one. High-risk assets were not kept downtown close to the federal building like he would be. They were not kept in cabins in the middle of nowhere like on TV, or in quaint little beach towns. They were kept in bunkers underground or in prison. Informing on the mob or our government or a foreign power was not at all glamorous, and that kind of security was suffocating. Regular people, like Josue, were normal everyday people who if, and only if, they were geographically accessible, would get capped. But once we moved them out of state, gave them new lives and new identities, the possibility of someone finding and killing them dwindled down to zero. As far as I knew, no one in the protective custody of the marshal service had ever been harmed.

  Josue would be heavily guarded when he was being escorted to pretrial meetings or trial itself or during any other court-related appearances, but that would be the only time. The rest of his life was his own. We checked in after all court appearances had concluded and during the asset’s entire time in WITSEC. Some of us even after the witness left the program. But for Josue, as it had been for Drake and Cabot, the threat was tiny, so what we were doing at the moment was overkill. Still, I watched him pick codes for the alarms and tried not to yawn.

  “Won’t you need a code, Miro?” He was worried about this.

  “I have an override, kid,” I told him.

  Once he was in and his stuff was on the bed, we left again because I had to take him back to the office to fill out bank account information that could only be done after the witness was shown his domicile. Normally, because I was a little lazy, I would take the daily fund allotment out in cash and give it to the witness and tell them to go wild. The thing was that I had not placed anyone alone in years. Josue needed friends, and at the moment I was it, so based on how I would have wanted things to work, I was getting him as set up as possible. His questions were killing me, though.

  “But I don’t get it. How do I get money to buy stuff? I mean—I should make something and bring it with me for dinner, right?”

  “No. Don’t bring anything but yourself.” We were sitting at my desk forty minutes later with White, who was typing because I couldn’t get my eyes to focus anymore. I needed to sleep. So did Josue. He didn’t have that much more rest than I did, but I guessed newness and adrenaline were powering him.

  “Hey.”

  Turning, I looked at Sharpe.

  “Come here.”

  I rolled away from White’s desk and over to his. “What?”

  “My buddies in Jersey got back to me on that guy Ian needed checked out.”

  “Oh, okay. And?”

  “He committed suicide like a month or so after he got back home from that tour four years ago.”

  It was sad and scary at the same time because Kerry Lochlyn had been dead a long time, and if he wasn’t the one getting revenge on the other men in his unit, who was? “What about his family?” I asked.

  “His parents were killed a year ago in a car accident,” Sharpe said, reading the information on his computer screen. “There’s only his sister and brother now.”

  “Where’s the brother live?”

  “That they don’t know. He’s estranged from the family and has been since Kerry’s death.”

  “How estranged?”

  “Like changed his name, never heard from him again estranged.”

  “Why?”

  “According to Kramer, who talked to the sister who lives in Albuquerque now—he never forgave his folks for his brother’s suicide. He thought they drove him to it.”

  “Jesus.”

  He shrugged. “Family’ll make you put a gun to your head faster than anything else.”

  I would have to take his word for it, as I had none.

  “Jones,” White barked over at me, and I realized that while Sharpe and I were talking, he had Josue’s total 110 percent focus on him and only him, and the questions were still coming fast and furious.

  Ten minutes later, with all the information he needed for the following day—who to see at the bank, for instance, to claim bankcards—I had Josue back at my desk.

  “But how do I get to see this”—he pulled the business card I’d given him and read the name off it—“Lillian Doss tomorrow if I don’t have cab fare to get there?”

  “That’s why I said that there will be a marshal there in the morning to take you. There’s a whole checklist in that packet you got, along with the laminated cards in case of emergency and the app that only works with your fingerprint on the new phone we just gave you.”

  “Yeah,” he said in a very small voice, and then he lifted his big dark eyes to me. “Are you gonna pick me up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why don’t you just sleep over and we’ll wake up early, have breakfast, and then you don’t have to drive.”

  “Listen, it’s—”

  “Or I can go home with you, and the same plan applies.”

  I shook my head.

  “Why?” His comical silent scream, with his head back, eyes closed, hands curled into rigor was funny, and he got a smile out of me, but we were not going to be girlfriends.

  “Because with me hanging around, you’re never gonna fit in.”

  He made a noise like I was just so irritating.

  “You have to give this a try, starting now.”

  “No, you know, I really think I should stay with you because you’re the one I trust, and trust goes a long way, and… yeah,” he said, deciding something, getting worked up, nodding a lot. “Yeah… yeah, I think so. I’m sticking with you.”

  I took a deep breath. “Hold on, kid.”

  “Oh man,” he whimpered. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

  “That’s not what the cards said,” I reminded him as I took hold of his shoulder, not hard, but firm, keeping him with me as I found the contact I needed on my phone. “You just need a little support.”

  “I think I should live with you.”

  He was so not living with me.

  “Hey,” I huffed, talking to one person while I concentrated on the guy in front of me having a nervous breakdown. “I need a favor.”

  “Anything” was the answer from the other end.

  Since Drake and
Cabot were now officially out of the program, I could treat them like lackeys and no one could say a word to me. And they both knew all about WITSEC, and even though it was not protocol… I did it anyway because it was in the best interest of my witness.

  The boys were in my office an hour later, both with visitor badges on, smiling and ready to help. By then I’d fed Josue again, explained how things worked—again—and realized that even though he was way more together than Cabot and Drake had been, he was still very young and very alone, and when I presented myself as a life raft, I had to be prepared for people to climb on and never want to leave. Sometimes I forgot the choices weren’t mine. They belonged to those I was trying to help. No one could tell you to walk; you did it when you were ready. I needed to make Josue ready, which meant the allure to jump had to be greater than the safety net I was offering.

  I saw the boys come in and told Josue his new friends had just shown up.

  He looked up and saw them crossing the floor, and Drake smiled and Cabot waved, and I saw Josue breathe like maybe everything was going to be all right.

  “Hi,” he sighed when Cabot walked right up and gave him a big hug.

  “Hey,” Drake greeted him happily, hugging him the second Cabot let go. “Did Miro adopt you too?”

  Josue nodded, and I rolled my eyes because they were all annoying, but it was good. They started talking about the shirt Josue was wearing that was from some band they all liked.

  I wasn’t listening. I didn’t care.

  “Hey, Miro, Josue draws a webcomic, isn’t that awesome?”

  “Not anymore, he doesn’t,” I informed them, because his online presence had been deleted. He had no links to digital portfolios, no Facebook account, no Twitter, nothing. He was gone from any and all social media.

  “Well, yeah, no, but Cab’s working on starting one, so maybe they could do it together,” Drake said, all excited.

  “Great, fabulous, go away now,” I commanded, using my hands to motion them toward the elevator. “I’ll see all you all on Thursday.”

  They were talking again and I was thankfully forgotten as they walked slowly, noisily out of the bullpen and toward the hall. I went around them to go get a bottle of water out of the fridge in the break room. By the time I got back, they were gone.

  When I sat down, I had a moment of bliss because it was quiet and still, and then I got a weird feeling, like something was off, hinky, and when I looked up, all eyes were on me.

  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?”