Chapter 18

 

ON THE second leg of the trip home, there were six seats for us, two in first class and four in business. We sat in twos, Kage and White—who was back from leave—up in the fancy seats, and then Cabot and Drake, and me and Ian. I had been really happy to see Chandler White striding up to me beside Kage, looking all hale and hearty.

“What did you say?” he teased.

“I’m being all corny ’cause I’m so happy to see you back on the job.”

He gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You’re a sap, Jones.”

And I was, but having the team back together meant a lot to me. Like the four women in my life who loved me, they were my family.

We played musical chairs with the seating because my boss wanted to talk to everyone. I thought Cabot was going to come out of his skin when it was his turn to go sit with Kage.

“He’s just gonna ask you some questions,” I promised when he walked back to me instead of forward to sit with Kage in the last row of first class, where they had actual glass salt and pepper shakers.

He nodded, inhaled quickly, and strode forward and sat down.

“What’s he asking him?” Drake wanted to know, leaning up over the seat.

“He’s looking to get an accounting of what happened at his father’s house,” I explained. “I wrote a report, my boss is only corroborating it.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said worriedly. “But he won’t take us away from you and Ian, right?”

White did a slow pan to me from where he was sitting now beside Drake.

“Shut up,” I snapped at White before returning my attention to Drake, who appeared terrified. “It’ll be fine.”

“My mother never gave a shit about me and I never knew my father. Cabot’s folks were the same. So you and him,” Drake said, tipping his head at Ian, “are as close to people who give a shit as we have.”

I would so hear it from White later; the smirk told me so. “Yeah, kid, I know. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be okay.”

Ian leaned forward and put his hand up over the back of Drake’s chair, and Drake immediately grabbed it, squeezed, and then let go.

“Take a breath,” Ian directed.

“Okay,” he said, then turned around in his chair and got comfortable.

I had never put the armrest down between Ian and me, so once both Drake and White were facing forward, Ian slid his hand down my thigh.

Turning to him, I saw the scowl. “What?”

“You got shot at again.”

“Yeah, well,” I croaked, realizing I had to have a very serious conversation with him. “That’s gonna keep happening since I’m a federal marshal.”

His brows furrowed and the scowl changed to his normal glower.

“Stop,” I ordered, sliding my fingers through his on my thigh, flattening his hand, holding it pressed tight against me. “Listen.”

All his focus was on me, and he waited, calming simply because I was touching him. Who knew that, all those times when Ian was bouncing off the walls, all he needed was for me to reach out and hold his hand?

“You’re gonna live with me, yeah?”

Boom.

That fast, his eyes darkened with heat. “You said I could.”

“Well, then I gotta tell the man sitting in first class.”

I don’t know what I expected, but Ian thinking a moment and then nodding wasn’t it.

“Ian?”

“Yeah,” he said huskily. “Good. So that way he’ll stop asking you if you want a new partner and leave it alone.”

“You knew about that?”

“’Course,” he said as I moved my hand, letting him go.

“How come you never said anything?”

“Because you always talk for both of us.”

“You know if I didn’t love you, I’d kill you,” I grumbled, getting up after seeing Kage had finished with Cabot.

I passed the younger man, gave him a quick pat on the back, and was almost to the seat beside Kage when it hit me.

I went almost light-headed with the realization of what I’d said to Ian Doyle.

Holy shit.

“Jones?”

Looking down at Kage instead of back toward my partner, I flopped into the seat beside him.

“I actually wanted Ford next, not you.”

My gaze met his, and I noticed, as always, that meeting his stare was not that easy. He was an intense man, and being his entire focus was slightly unnerving.

“Jones?”

I took a settling breath and jumped. “I’m gay.”

Nothing.

“Boss?”

“Yes, Jones,” he said, sounding so very bored.

“You heard me, right?”

“I did,” he said patiently.

I cleared my throat. “Ian, he—he’s gonna move in with me.”

He squinted. “And?”

“I—we—thought you should know.”

“Because?”

“Well, I mean, you’ve gotta be thinking, if we’re in a relationship and it goes south, what does that do for your partnership?”

“Why would that concern me? It should concern you.”

“I—”

“If things go south, you’re the ones who have to deal with the fact that you’re partners and stuck together. I’m not getting how that’s my problem?”

It was all so… composed. Kage was acting like it was no big deal, like people came out to him at work every day. All of it perfectly normal.

“So you’re okay with—”

“Is there anything else, Jones?”

I coughed. “No sir.”

“May I speak to Mr. Ford now?”

“Yessir.”

“Excellent,” he said sarcastically as I stood up slowly.

I couldn’t stop staring at him.

“I’m aging here, Jones.”

“Yessir,” I muttered, turning and leaving, making my way back to where Cabot was sitting beside Drake. “Hey, Drake, my boss would like a word.”

He was frightened; it was there on his face.

“It’s no big deal, I swear.”

He got up, White took his spot, and I flopped down next to Ian. Immediately, his hand was on my thigh, gripping tight.

“So?” Ian prodded.

“Your boss could care less.”

His smile came slowly as I shook my head. “I knew it.”

“You knew what?”

“That Sam Kage was not the kind of man who cared about us outside of work.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

“He cares about the kind of job we do, not about who we do away from it.”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning as he let his head bump against the back of his seat.

“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “What’d Emma want?”

He turned to look at me blankly. “What?”

“I heard you say ‘Emma’ when you were on the phone back at the airport.”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t Emma. That was Jocelyn, a friend of hers.”

“And? Don’t make me dig.”

“She, uhm,” he began, his voice low and rough, “wanted to have dinner to make sure I was okay.”

“How sweet,” I said curtly.

He took my hand in his, lacing his fingers through mine. “But I can’t have dinner with her. I’m busy, right?”

“From now on, yeah.”

He squeezed my hand for a second.

“You like me saying that.”

“I do,” he growled, and the sound slithered right through me to my cock.

“Jesus,” I mumbled, shifting in my seat, my jeans suddenly very tight.

“Call Aruna when we land and see if she and Liam can keep Chickie one more night.”

“Okay,” I agreed, my body heating fast.

He leaned into me, his mouth on my ear. “I wanna move all my stuff in tonight, but we’ll just go to my place and get clothes for tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“All I wanna do is sleep in your bed.”

He’d be lucky to do any of that.

“I wanna be there, like, now.”

“You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said softly. “I’m yours.”

They were magic words.

 

 

ONCE WE landed in Chicago, we walked through one of the many enormous terminals toward the security gates, then down to baggage claim, where we could get a cab back to the field office to process Drake and Cabot.

“Daddy!”

We all looked up as a beautiful little dark-eyed, dark-haired girl came charging toward us. I was wondering where her father was when I saw Kage drop to one knee and hold out his arms. She flung herself into them, hugging him tight, her smile huge.

His daughter?

Christ.

Would it kill the man to have pictures on his desk? And I got it, we were marshals, and you didn’t want scary people perusing snapshots of your kids, but still. It was a lot to take in, Sam Kage as a father. He let her go and took her hand, didn’t turn to introduce her to us, nothing. They walked together, him looking down, her looking up, as she chattered to him about their cat that was now pink, something about food coloring and an experiment gone wrong and cupcakes. When the doors slid open and we walked outside, she waved crazily, and a boy, older, maybe nine or ten, ran up and stopped, wrapping his arms around Kage’s waist, leaning for a second as the scary man who led our team bent and kissed the top of his head.

I wondered which kid was adopted as both children left him, his son with his duffel, his daughter with his laptop bag, running to the curb where a van idled. The side door slid open sideways, and then, from the driver’s side window, a head popped out. And you could have knocked me over with a feather.

Not a woman.

Sam Kage did not have a wife.

The kids climbed into the back, and the door closed as Kage reached for the stunning blond man beaming at him. He cupped his face in his hands, leaned in, and kissed him. It was quick, but tender and a revelation to witness, because holy crap, who knew Kage had it in him? When the other man ducked back inside, Kage opened the passenger-side door and got in. They didn’t leave, though; the man popped his head out again, looked right at us, and waved.

“Glad to see you again, Deputy White.”

My teammate waved back, Kage raised a hand, and the van was gone seconds later.

I rounded on White. “You fuck!”

“What?”

“How come you never told me our boss was gay?”

He bristled. “What does it matter?”

“Because I’m gay, asshole,” I barked.

“Oh yeah,” he huffed, relaxing from his combative stance. “I forgot.”

And that was nice, that to White it didn’t matter one way or another who I slept with—I was simply another member of his team. But still! Kage was gay?

“Does everybody know but me?”

“I don’t think anybody knows but me, Sharpe, and now you and Doyle.”

“How does Sharpe know?”

He squinted at me. “Everything I know, my partner knows.”

“Right. Sure.” Processing. “He’s gay?”

“Yep.”

“How did you find out?”

“I had to take some surveillance photos over to his house like three years ago now. It was right before you started, actually.”

“So how long?”

“How long what? How long has he been gay? How the fuck am I supposed—”

“No. How long has he been with his husband?”

“Oh, he’s been in a civil union with Mr. Harcourt like fifteen years or something, but in June they’re gonna have a big party.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“And you know this how?”

“I was with him when he was talking to that friend of his, you know, the homicide detective who has that billionaire boyfriend—what’s his name?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Well, that’s how I know.”

I had to absorb. “Sam Kage is gay.”

“So am I, get over it,” Ian said, walking around me toward the curb to get a cab.

“See, now, I figured Doyle was gay too,” White yawned as he looked for his wife’s car in the sea of vehicles.

“What?” I managed to get out, certain I was having a heart attack.

He shrugged. “I mean, how he looks at you all the time? You’d hafta be blind to miss that shit, right?”

Oh dear God.

“And how you’re always in his space and you’re the only one he lets do that—I mean, I was pretty sure you guys were, yanno… together.”

I needed to sit down before I passed out. Leaning over, I put my hands on my thighs and took steady in and out breaths before I hyperventilated.

“What the fuck’s with you?”

“Nothing,” I croaked.

“Oh, there’s my wife,” White said, smiling as he waved. “You guys wanna ride or—”

“No, we’re good,” I rasped, my mouth dry. “And you shouldn’t want Ford and Jenner near your wife anyway. They’re witnesses, or did you forget?”

“No, smartass, I didn’t forget.”

“Well, technically they shouldn’t have seen Kage’s family, either.”

“Yeah, but there’s grades of witness,” he reminded me. “And your boys are classified as friendly and long-term. You know that.”

I did know that.

“So,” he asked again. “Ride or no?”

“No, we’re good. You go home. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll see ya,” he said, chuckling, patting me on the shoulder before he dashed to the curb.

A gentle hand touched my back, and I turned to find Cabot there, looking concerned, Drake with him, holding both of their bags.

“You okay, Miro?” Cabot wanted to know.

“Yeah, buddy, I will be.”

His smile was blinding.

“Guys!” Ian yelled from the curb.

We all hurried.