by Mary Calmes
“Yeah, okay,” he snarled. “I shouldn’t give you any grief about Doyle since you’re moonin’ over him and all.”
My eyebrows lifted, and he swore under his breath.
“Just—why don’t we go to Starbucks and get some fruity coffee you like.”
I snorted out a laugh, because it was only getting worse.
“Fuck you, Jones!”
Letting him off the hook, I peeled out, which he liked, and drove to the parking structure. As we walked together after I parked, I stopped and checked my boots.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just don’t wanna get these wet. The bottoms are leather.”
He rolled his eyes. “Jesus. You and Kohn, why do you wear your good shit to work?”
It was a very good question.
I WAS at my desk later in the day finishing up paperwork to close the Tolliver case, when my phone rang. I picked it up without checking the display, preoccupied with looking for my mouse, at a loss as to where it could be. I started rifling through my desk drawers.
“M?”
I froze. “Ian?” After close to two months, he sounded really good.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, buddy,” I said, smiling stupidly, I was sure. God, I was so happy to hear from him. “Are you safe?”
“Yeah.”
“All in one piece?”
“I am.”
“S’good to hear you.” It was like I could suddenly breathe, up from the deep drowning place where I’d been struggling for air since he’d left. “Back to civilization, huh?”
“Almost. I’m in Honolulu and I’m on the next flight out for Chicago in like half an hour. I’ll be there sometime in the morning, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You should sleep in, rest up.” I sighed. “Me and Becker are flying out to Tennessee tomorrow to drive a prisoner back.”
“Oh, so you’re working this weekend.”
“Yeah, and because your old man is out of town, I sent your dog to the mountains with some friends of mine.”
“Well, he’ll love that. Who’s got him?”
“My friend Aruna and her husband. You’ve met them a ton of times.”
“Yeah, sure, they’re real nice.”
Something was wrong. “You sound weird. You okay?”
“Yeah, no, just tired.”
“Okay,” I said, relieved, exhaling my worry. “Well, I’m bummed I won’t get to see you sooner, but it’ll give you time to sink back into your life a little. I can give you Aruna’s number if you want to go get Chickie before I get—”
“No, that’s okay. You can bring him on Monday.”
“Okay, good.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
“You missed me, huh,” he said, like, of course I had. He was so arrogant.
“I did,” I confessed, because that was my place in the partnership. I said it so he didn’t have to. It was how we worked. “I really did.” It was so good to hear his voice, to be able to talk to him whenever I wanted. “You think you’ll have to go again right away?”
“I hope not.”
There were no guarantees with Ian. “Okay.”
He cleared his throat. “So, you do anything more exciting than leaping off balconies while I was gone?”
“Actually,” I said playfully, “I’m saving that for you. We can do that again when you get home.”
Silence.
“Did I lose you?” He was in Hawaii, after all, maybe some hot girl in a bikini had walked by and he bailed on me.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“What?”
“You said you’re saving that for me?”
Oh, he was listening. “For us, yeah. I think it should be our thing now. I’m sure the boss’ll be thrilled.”
“Yeah, no. That should not be our thing,” he said, all serious.
“Hey, so you know, White’s okay too.”
“Pardon?”
“Well, ’cause he was in a coma.”
“He was—what?”
“I, however, was not in a coma, merely sleeping. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“I’m—you were… what?”
“What’re you doing?” Kowalski asked as he rolled his chair over to me. “You need to get that done so we can go pick up our witness.”
“I can’t find my mouse.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Kowalski,” I answered Ian.
“Who’s that?”
“Doyle,” I answered Kowalski.
Kowalski motioned for me to give him the phone, and I handed it off as I checked my wastebasket. Why the mouse was in there, sitting on top of the paper, I had no idea.
“Who keeps fuckin’ around at my desk?” I yelled out to the room.
The denials came fast and furious. A whole room of people who’d never even sat in my chair. Right.
“Shot,” Kowalski said gruffly. “Twice. Yeah, him and White. Ching too, but you know Wes. You’d have to, like, run him over or something. He was out of the hospital while your boy and White were still in surgery.”
I got the page I needed opened and started to type while Kowalski kept talking to Ian.
“He lost a fuckton of blood but he saved the witness. I think all four of them—what? Oh, yeah, Kohn, too, he was good with the diversion, gave Jones time to get the witness out.”
“What was the name of the auto shop Nina and I ran into?” I asked Kowalski.
“Like I would know. Look it up.”
Silence.
“What?” He was still talking to Ian. “Yeah, he’s good, all in one piece except for his boots, apparently. I swear to God, Kohn’s the same fuckin’ way. How do you deal with all the whining about the clothes?”
I snickered as he passed me my phone and rolled away. “Hey, so—”
“Shot?” He sounded like he was going to hyperventilate. “You got shot? Again?”
“Yeah I—”
“Were you wearing your vest?”
I nearly choked. “Me? Of course I was wea—”
“Why didn’t somebody call me?”
“Uhm,” I began, chuckling, “how were they supposed to do that, Mr. Green Beret, sir?”
“Fuck!”
“It’s fine, I’m fine, all is well with the world, except, ya know, I was stuck at home for a week and then riding my desk the next, but in all that time, I still haven’t finished this paperwork. Don’t get shot, it’s a fuckin’ nightmare.”
“Miro—”
“And before that I had to go out to Elgin and—”
“You had to go see Hartley?”
“Yeah.”
“When was this?”
“Before I got shot,” I repeated. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, I’m—did anyone go with you?” He sounded pained.
“No.”
“Shit.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
“Ian—”
“Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”
I was so confused. “Sorry?”
“Do you or do you not need me there?”
I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me, and so there was the possibility that we were talking about two completely different things. Like maybe I was trying to make him feel better about not being there, and all he wanted to hear was that I missed him and wanted him home. Without looking into his beautiful eyes, it was difficult to guess. “Yeah,” I husked, letting the wave of aching, devouring need infuse my voice for a moment. “I need you here.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, so I gotta go get on the plane, but, uhm, I’ll see you in the morning, all right?”
“Ian, don’t do—”
“I wanna see you!”
It took a bit for his words to sink in. He wanted to see me?
“Okay? Is that fine?” he snapped irritably.
It was so much more than fine. “Yeah, that’s good.”
We were both
quiet a moment.
“It was weird.”
“What was?” I prodded, wanting to hear whatever he was thinking about. Whenever he opened up about anything, I wanted to know.
“I kept looking at the guys that were with me and thinking: if Miro was here, he would’ve done this or said that or whatever.”
“Oh yeah? I’m easy to anticipate, am I?” I laughed softly.
“Yeah. Yeah, you are.”
“What can I say, I’m a simple guy.”
“I guess.”
“Hey,” I said cheerfully. “My cast is off, so I can throw you around.”
“What?” he gasped.
“When we square off during practice,” I teased. “You had the advantage when you left, man, but I can hold you down again.”
His breath hitched, and I heard it even over the phone line.
“E?” I said, shortening his name to its first syllable, which I barely ever did, but he was scaring me all of a sudden. “You didn’t get hurt or something, did you?”
“No, I—”
“Remember that time you got paralyzed and they weren’t sure how long it was gonna last and you—”
“That was two years ago, Miro. I barely knew you.”
“Do you remember or not?” I demanded, my voice rising.
“Of course I remember—why you always gotta bring that up?”
“Because you lied to me,” I pointed out.
“And I apologized!”
“Well, is this like that time or not?” I asked, my voice rising.
“Not!” he barked. “It’s not like that at all.”
“Okay, that’s all you had to say.”
He had lied about where he was, and I’d tracked him to a VA hospital in Providence, Rhode Island. I had been so angry at him for pushing me away, thinking that he had to be by himself until he either got better or didn’t. I was livid that he’d thought he had to handle everything alone. He was my partner and I deserved to be thought of better. He should have known that whatever it was, I would be there. I always had his back. There should never have been any doubt in his mind.
“M?”
I coughed. “Sorry, I was just thinking about the last time you were in the hospital.”
“Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t there when the roles were reversed.”
“It’s fine,” I said dismissively. “But you’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I swear, I’m in way better shape than you.”
“I’m in great shape,” I defended myself.
“Except for your shoes,” Kowalski chimed in with a laugh.
“What’s wrong with your shoes?” Ian wanted to know.
“They’re getting wet from the snow.”
He sighed heavily. “What’d I tell you about that?”
“Yeah, I know, me and Kohn both shouldn’t be wearing our good stuff to the job.”
He was quiet.
“You still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, so—”
“Miro?”
“I’m fine, I promise.”
“Where were you shot?”
“Once in the right shoulder and another in my left collarbone,” I reported. “But nothing serious or life threatening was hit either time. There was just a lotta blood.”
“You’re sure?”
“Listen,” I said gently. “I’m fine, E. Cross my heart. Get your ass home and you can check for yourself, all right?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, all right.”
“So I’ll see ya when I get home from picking up—” I had to check the paperwork on my desk. “—Drake Ford.”
“He sounds like an actor or something, huh?”
“Yeah, he does.” I chuckled.
“Okay, well, I gotta go.”
“All right, be safe.”
“Always,” he grunted and the line went dead.
“I think that was the most words we’ve ever said to each other,” Kowalski commented, glancing over at me.
“Well, that’s Ian, Captain Communication.”
Apparently that was damn funny. Kowalski choked on his coffee.
Chapter 11
BRENT IVERS had lied.
He’d said he was on a business trip and only visiting the Windy City from Florida. But it turned out the new job was a bust, so he’d moved back. All of that was in a message he’d left me when, as he explained, “that coven of yours wouldn’t let me in to see you after you were shot.” Apparently he’d called when I was in the hospital, and after Aruna informed him I’d been hurt in the line of duty, she went on to clarify that under no circumstances was he allowed to see me. She threatened him with bodily harm, and he reported all of it in his second message. He was still ranting on the fourth one he’d left.
“He sounds nuts,” Kowalski said as he dealt the cards.
I was explaining it to the table at our regular Thursday night card game, this week at Becker’s house. Originally we’d held the game on Fridays, but me, Ian, Kohn, and Ryan were all single, and Friday was the night we were usually out getting laid.
“Maybe you need a restraining order,” Kohn suggested before taking a long drag on his beer. “I can get one tomorrow since you’ll be on a plane with Becker.”
“You don’t need a TRO for your ex,” Mike Ryan—tall, dark, and built like the swimmer he’d been in college—explained to me. “Gimme his address and me and Sharpe’ll go over there and have a talk with him. He won’t bug you after that.”
“Yep,” Sharpe agreed from where he sat across from me.
I laughed. “I can fight my own battles, thank you, gentlemen. And it’s not like that, just funny, is all.”
“Yeah, it’s a riot,” Jack Dorsey said as he walked back into the room from the kitchen and passed Becker a Corona. “But if you see him hanging around, polishing a knife, you let us know.”
I scoffed. “Absolutely. Hey, Jack, I have a question.”
“What?”
“I was meaning to ask, what happened to your brother and his partner? I haven’t seen either of them here in months. I miss taking money off the nice ATF agents.”
He grunted. “Elliot’s partner moved to this little asscrack of a town in Kentucky with his boyfriend and—”
“What?” I blurted in surprise.
“What?” he parroted.
“That guy I met, Pete… he’s gay?” Holy crap, maybe the girls were right to give me shit about being oblivious. All I’d seen when I met agent Peter Lomax and his partner, Jack Dorsey’s little brother Elliot, was two very alpha guys. They both came off as swaggering douchebags in the nicest way possible. It had been obvious that Jack had a good relationship with his brother, and by extension, Pete. But I had no idea Pete was gay; he hadn’t pinged my gaydar even once.
“I thought all you gay guys knew each other,” he said seriously.
“You did not just say that,” Sharpe remarked dryly.
“What?”
“Finish your damn story,” Ching directed.
“Well, whatever. He’s gay, and so he moved to be with his partner, and so two months later when another opening came up in Louisville, my brother and his wife moved there too.”
“No shit.” Kohn sounded surprised too.
“Yeah, I mean, I thought for sure his wife Felicia would be upset about it, but her family ain’t here, they’re in Cincinnati. So it’s actually closer for her to see her side.”
“That sucks that your brother’s not here anymore.” I said sympathetically.
“Yeah, but he’ll visit in the summer, and me and Sandi are going for like a week around Labor Day,” Dorsey said, and he sounded okay with it. “And then he’s coming home for Thanksgiving. So it won’t be like it was, but it’s okay. I mean, I get it, right? I love my family but I spend more time with Ryan than I do with my wife.”
Sharpe nodded. “Yeah, I mean, if your partner moves, you’re supposed to do… what? Just get a new one? How would that work?”
At least that was how it worked for me.
“What the fuck is this?” Ryan complained loudly from the kitchen.
Glancing over at him, I saw him holding up a thinly sliced piece of meat.
“It’s prosciutto,” Kohn called over.
“What is that?”
“It’s like fancy super-thin sliced salty ham,” Kohn continued.
“Why does it have a whole other name?”
Kohn huffed. “Why are you asking me? I’m Jewish; I don’t even eat that crap.”
“Just eat it,” Kowalski ordered Ryan.
Ryan growled, and I would have said something, but Dorsey joined him in the kitchen to try it.
“It’s good whatever the fuck it is,” Ryan said, shrugging.
“I want a sandwich,” I announced.
“Well, get the fuck up and make it,” Ching instructed.
I snorted out a laugh, folded my 2 and 7 off suit, and got up.
“Oh, oh!” Becker said, his phone in one hand. “It looks like boss man says that I ain’t makin’ the trip to Tennessee.”
“Then who’s going with me?” I asked, glancing back to the poker table.
Everyone checked their phones and no one else had a text.
“Oh man,” Ching groaned. “Tell me we don’t have a newb.”
Kohn cackled. “I bet we’ve got help since White and Doyle are both still out.”
“Yeah, but White should be back next week, and Doyle’ll be back… when?” Becker asked, glancing toward me.
“Monday.”
“Yeah, see?” he said, looking at the others. “There’s no room at the inn. We got everyone we need.”
“Don’t be an elitist pig,” Ryan warned. “If the team never grew beyond the first guys, it would still only be me, White, Sharpe, Dorsey, and Kowalski. You wouldn’t even be here. Change can be good.”