by Mary Calmes
“He’s got some serious lungs,” Ian remarked, eyes big for a second.
Aruna chuckled, patting his face for a moment before moving around me to reach Janet.
“You guys,” she whimpered, back to crying.
“What took you so long?” I asked Ian. “You go there, you kick down the door, you grab the kid—what the hell?”
“Oh no,” Aruna corrected me. “We went to the police station first.”
I looked at Ian.
“What?”
I crossed my arms, waiting.
“New job had me thinking,” he said, reaching up to brush my hair out of my eyes. “That going in by the book, doing things with a handshake instead of a fist—I mean, that’s the way to do it, right?”
“It is.”
“Oh, you should have seen him,” Aruna sighed like she was smitten with him, sliding one arm around Ian’s back, one hand on his abdomen. “He was so calm.”
“Were you calm?” Catherine asked as Janet rocked the baby.
“No,” Aruna admitted, “but I kept my mouth shut while Ian talked to the desk sergeant and then the police captain, and showed them the approved restraining order and explained the situation. Then when we got to the house, he knocked, and when Ned came to the door, he showed him the order and asked him to give Cody to him.”
“And?” Catherine prodded.
“And when he said they couldn’t come in, one of the policemen stepped in front of Ned, served him the restraining order, and told him that they were there to take the child into protective custody, and to step aside or they would make him.”
“But Ned has as much right to the baby as Janet does, then,” I said, glancing at her.
“Yes,” Aruna answered. “Except that he had Janet placed on a seventy-two-hour psych hold that was bullshit, and he’s going to have to explain that to try to reverse the restraining order, as well as during the divorce.”
“Divorce?” I asked.
“Oh hell yeah,” Janet said, starting to cry again.
“So we all packed up?” Ian wanted to know, trying to change the subject, crying having always been hard on him. He’d watched his mother cry herself a river after his father left, and then go silent and dead inside. He had an aversion to it that, somehow, did not include me. When I did it, it brought out every protective instinct he had. Fortunate for me it worked like that.
Janet nodded quickly before passing me Cody and launching herself at Ian. He rocked her with as much gentleness as she had her child.
We caravanned back to the airport, and after we checked the bags, paying a mint because they were way overweight, we got out the stroller and car seat for inspection, let them wand the baby and Janet, and then Janet and Cody together checked Catherine over because she kept beeping, finally figuring out it was probably her diamond tennis bracelet—even with all that, the girls made it through before Ian and me with our guns.
“Holy crap.” Janet was amazed, finally smiling, feeling truly safe and untouchable on the other side of the security checkpoint. “I thought they were going to strip-search you guys.”
“I’ve had that done. It’s not enjoyable,” Ian told her.
“I could have lived my whole life without knowing that,” Aruna told him.
As we sat in the boarding area and Janet prepared to breastfeed Cody while Catherine draped his baby blanket over the top of baby and boob, Janet started to shake.
“What?” I asked, seeing the fear flood her features.
“I just—what if cops come and surround us, and Ned gets them to take Cody, and—”
“That’s why I took the cops with me when I picked him up,” Ian explained. “That way if any new paperwork comes across their desk, they know that the restraining order trumps it, and they have my contact information for questions. They’ve also got the number for Min’s lawyer friend who filed the papers for you.”
She inhaled quickly. “Okay. Okay.”
“So a divorce?” I asked Janet. “You’re sure?”
“It feels like the only answer right this second,” she said, taking a breath. “But I guess thinking about it from his perspective, he might truly think that me not wanting to leave the baby for even a dinner out is me being depressed.”
I was quiet, just listening.
“I mean, he might actually be worried about me, and all of this was him showing his love,” she conceded. “But if you guys could have seen him yesterday, looking at his mother instead of me, taking his prompts from her…. I can’t… I can’t have that. I’ve always known I was second to her, but when I saw her nodding, and then the way she smiled at me as they were dragging me away from my baby—there’s no way.”
“Don’t worry anymore,” Ian murmured, and we all looked at him because his voice had gone cold in a way that was a little scary. Every now and then, I was reminded Ian was trained to kill because… every now and then… it slithered to the surface, and it was there in the slow blink of his eyes, the sneer on his lips, and the languid sprawl of his body that could come, instantly, to deadly movement.
“Okay,” Janet agreed, eyes big as she stared at him.
On the plane, Janet passed Cody to Aruna, took a shuddering breath, lifted the armrest between us, leaned into me, and was out seconds later. Aruna gave Cody some water during takeoff because we needed his ears to pop.
“I think we should go into business doing this,” Aruna said brightly. We sat three and three, Aruna and Catherine next to a stranger who appeared pleased to see Catherine until he saw the ice rink on her ring finger. “Rescuing people, saving kids.”
“Miro already does that,” Ian said hoarsely, sliding a hand up my thigh.
“Oh? What are you doing?” Catherine wanted to know.
So I explained about Custodial WITSEC on the ride home, and I noted Catherine’s huge smile along with Aruna’s.
“What?” I rumbled.
“Oh, honey,” Catherine almost squeaked, all choked up, “that’s like the perfect job for you. You’ll be so good with the kids because you’ll totally get where they’re coming from.”
“I know,” Aruna whimpered. “He’s gonna save all the babies.”
“It’s not gonna be all sunshine and roses,” I protested.
“Wow, that boss of yours,” Catherine went on, completely ignoring me. “Can he spot talent or what?”
“I know,” Aruna agreed. “And he’s yummy too. Remember how great he looked at their wedding in that suit that fit like a glove?”
“Ohmygod, that’s right,” Catherine agreed, nodding, eyes wide. “So hot. If I wasn’t married, I’d tap that.”
It was horrifying to think of Kage in any kind of sexual anything. “That’s disgusting,” I assured them, and when I glanced over at Ian, he looked just as revolted.
“Oh, Ian got a new job too,” Aruna announced. “He’s in charge now, aren’t you, bunny?”
“Bunny?” Ian repeated, looking pale.
“Tell me all about it,” Catherine purred, elbow on the armrest, looking at him like he was the second coming.
And Ian, who always found Catherine overbearing, found that being the center of her attention really wasn’t all that bad.
WHEN WE got to O’Hare and exited the terminal, Aruna pushing Cody in his stroller—the way it all hooked together was beyond me, but apparently Ian had it down after having only done it once before—we found Min waiting. She was looking for us, and when we got closer, she put her hand over her mouth and started crying. Janet was a go with the waterworks then too.
They ran to each other, arms out, and collapsed to the floor together, sobbing, laughing, hugging the daylights out of each other, and generally making a spectacle of themselves in public as people had to walk around them.
I saw Jensen standing off to the side, and when I waved, he returned the gesture but moved for Ian, hand out, ready to shake. I was surprised Ian hugged him instead, though briefly, before they turned to watch the wailing women.
We clustered around th
em, and then Jensen lifted Min while I lifted Janet. There was more hugging then; Min hugged us all one by one and then went into Ian’s arms and stayed there, shivering, content not to move as he bent and whispered to her as she nodded furiously.
“She really likes him,” Jensen said, shoulder-checking me.
“The feeling’s mutual,” I told him and then turned to really look at him. “I thought she wasn’t getting here until later tonight.”
He nodded. “I have a plane.”
“Huh.”
“I flew to Mexico and then here.”
“That’s handy.”
“Yeah,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
He was a handsome man. I wasn’t sure about the beanie inside, but I liked the Crossroads Gin T-shirt, the vintage jeans, brogue boots, leather jacket, and the chunky Pierre DeRoche watch. The fact that he paired the timepiece with beaded bracelets and a silver cuff on the opposite wrist was a bit too hipster for me.
“So,” I said, “you rich?”
He turned his head. “Yeah.”
“I thought you restored cars.”
“I do, but, yanno, for celebrities and on TV and stuff.”
I nodded. “Min wouldn’t care about that. The rich part, I mean.”
“I am aware,” he agreed.
I cleared my throat. “Not that I’m not glad you’re here, but… why are you here?”
“Because,” he said, his eyes on Min as he answered, “there’s going to be a moment when she’s gonna come undone, and when… that… hap… pens….”
She turned from Ian, took two steps, saw Jensen, and reached.
He was there fast, sweeping her up off her feet, into his arms, hugging her tight, and she cried into his shoulder, howled. She’d been a rock and put her faith in us because it had to be Catherine going, and me, had to be Aruna and Ian, not her. She was the general. We did what she asked; we were her minions. But now in her moment of need, of total breakdown, Jensen was there to pick up the pieces, and I had to give it to him—it was damn smart.
I stepped close and swatted his back as he crooned to his girl. “Did you meet her mother?”
“Nailed that,” he said, lifting his head and giving me a superior smirk.
Ass.
I would have to grill Min later about how much her mother, who hated me and Catherine, liked the man who looked like a bad boy but was, in reality, the complete opposite.
When I glanced over at Aruna, I realized she wasn’t paying any attention, and I quickly understood why. She was smiling at Liam and Sajani, who had come to the airport to see her.
Liam, who realized when Aruna was graduating from college that letting her go back to her family in Dallas would be a huge mistake, was still smitten with his wife. And Aruna felt the same about the six-foot-five lieutenant in the Chicago Fire Department. They had always been my idea of what a good relationship was, the trust, the communication, and the humor. I’d been so glad to share them with Ian.
“Let’s go eat,” Liam suggested, and everyone agreed that was a fantastic idea.
Jensen had rented a car, and between that and the Honda Odyssey Liam brought, we were ready to caravan for the second time that day. I was just happy we were all together.
Chapter 12
JANET WAS going to stay with Aruna and Liam for the foreseeable future; she could do her job from there just as well as she could from Georgetown, and now she would have lots more people to help her. She was also considering moving to LA to be close to Min, and since Min still owned her condo in Santa Monica, she could move Janet in there easy with, she said… her mother.
“Your mother?” I asked Min, horrified.
“What?” Min was defensive. “My mother would love it, and so would Janet.”
“Ohmygod, I love your mother,” Janet almost cried, “and she would love to take care of Cody.”
“Yes, she would,” Min agreed, smirking at me.
I looked to Catherine for help.
“Oh, I’m with you,” she said, hands up. “I’d rather be lobotomized.”
Jensen stuck up for Min’s mom, but she patted him and told him he didn’t have to work so hard. “They all know her, honey. Don’t worry about it.”
He was certain Catherine and I just needed to be more open-minded.
“Uh-huh,” I said, only to find Ian scowling at me. “What?”
“Min’s mother is lovely,” he asserted. “Jensen’s right. You need to give her a break.”
I glanced over at Min.
She coughed. “The last time Ian and I were on Skype, she was over, and they got to talking,” she explained. “Did you know Ian is, like, a Korean food savant?”
I turned back to Ian.
“What? I like Korean food. What do you think I ate when I was stationed in Seoul?”
“I’m outta here,” I announced, getting up from Aruna’s huge dining room table. “I’m leaving my husband here to do dishes.”
And suddenly I was being smothered with hugs and kisses, and there was no way I was getting out of the house anytime soon.
Eventually Min and Jensen took Catherine downtown with them to the Four Seasons for the night. We all agreed to reconvene for breakfast the following morning before the three of them flew out.
Ian and I cabbed it home with Chickie and had the driver drop us a couple blocks from home so we could get our werewolf’s walk in.
“So who were you talking to before we left this morning?” I asked as I walked beside Ian, his arm around my shoulder.
“Kage. I needed to let him know we were flying.”
“And he must’ve let you tell people that you were there on official business.”
“He did.”
I grunted.
“What?”
“It’s not like him to break the rules.”
“It wasn’t rule-breaking, though, right? It was just being able to say, ‘I’m here as a federal marshal, not just as Ian Doyle.’”
“Still, that was nice of him.”
“I’m in his direct chain of command now. He has to do stuff for me; it’s part of picking me in the first place.”
I chuckled.
“What? It is.”
“I guess you—Ian?”
He had stopped walking and didn’t let me take another step forward. As I looked down the street toward our house, four other houses between us and it, I saw a man sitting on our front stoop.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“I don’t—”
“Oh no, wait,” I said as the man stood up and waved to me. “I know him. That’s Efrem Lahm from Homeland.”
“Who?”
“Efrem Lahm,” I repeated, waving back. “I met him in Phoenix at the hospital when I went in the ambulance with the Guzman kids.”
“And what is he doing here?”
“I don’t know, baby. Let’s go ask.”
Ian wasn’t thrilled, but the closer we got, and when Efrem came down the steps and stood on the sidewalk, looking crisp and polished in a cashmere trench coat, dress pants, and Prada wingtips, but not in any way threatening, Ian calmed. Seeing also, up close, that Ian had easily fifty pounds of muscle on the smaller, more delicate man, helped put him even more at ease.
“Efrem,” I greeted when we got close, hand out, reaching.
He took my hand, shook warmly, and then repeated the motion when I introduced him to Ian.
“It’s nice to see you,” I said as he pet Chickie. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“This is going to sound odd, but I need you to bear with me.”
“Course.”
With that he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a beautiful antique gold pocket watch and passed it to me.
I turned it over in my hands, opened the case, and saw the inscription. It was simple, just the words For Miro with the initials CH underneath. I took a breath before I lifted my head to meet his green gaze.
“The fuck is this?” Ian asked coldly, on edge,
there to protect me, glancing around the street, scanning for a threat.
“Efrem?” I questioned, squeezing the watch in my hand, not about to let it go and wanting to at the exact same time. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“What you have there is an eighteen-karat-gold Phillippe Patek chronograph pocket watch that has a matching eighteen-karat-gold watch chain with the key to Doctor Craig Hartley’s safe on the other end.”
“His safe?”
“Yes.”
“Explain.”
He cleared his throat, pivoted, and waved to someone on the other side of the street.
A moment ago Ian and I had just scanned the street for other people, and there was no one else there. But evidently there had been, and that someone managed to evade our notice until now, obviously put Ian on edge. Briefly he looked scared, almost panicked, but just as quickly, he squinted and his expression grew irritated. “Harris?” he said after a second.
“Doyle,” whoever Harris was called back from the shadows. I couldn’t see anybody at all, but apparently Ian could.
“What’s the deal?”
“I wasn’t sure what you’d heard. I didn’t want to spook you, plus your husband knows Ef, so I figured that was the best way to make contact.”
“We were in Afghanistan together,” Ian said, hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “We’re good.”
And with that, a stunning man stepped out of the darkness he’d blended so well into, looked both ways, and then jogged across the street to us.
He had warm eyes of the most unusual color, like a spring green with gold all swirled together. When he got close, he held out his hand for Ian, who took it quickly.
“I apologize for the subterfuge,” Harris said, addressing me. “I just didn’t know if your husband would shoot me on sight.”
I glanced at Ian. “Why would you do that?”
“Because this man used to be a CIA operative, and the last I heard, he was a contract killer, so I would have assumed that Hartley’s last request was to put you in the ground.”
“Which couldn’t be further from the truth,” Harris informed us both. “He left that in my care with orders that it be delivered to you the moment he died.”