All Kinds of Tied Down (27 page)

“He’s a mess and a pain in the ass, but the only trouble he ever got in suddenly started when Cabot came home from boarding school last year.”

“And what happened?”

“They met and that was it. Cabot told me the last time I was putting Drake in cuffs—running him off his father’s property—that nothing would keep him away from Drake, not even his father’s puppet.”

“Oh, you’re a puppet,” I teased.

“Apparently so,” Holley grumbled. “Let’s forget the fact that the little shit was trespassing, and that the last time they stole one of Mr. Jenner’s cars, and the time before that he caught them smoking pot in the stables.”

“That’s fantastic,” I said, chuckling.

“Oh, they should be on posters of ‘what not to let your kids do.’”

“But? I hear a but?”

He laughed softly. “The parents are both absent in all of this. Drake Ford has no one, and Cabot Jenner has a father more interested in his investment portfolio than in his own kid.”

“Where’s Cabot’s mother?”

“Rehab. Again.”

“Okay, you win. It’s fucked up.”

He turned his head to smile at me. “How old are you, Marshal?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Holley’s smile was wicked, and I liked it quite a bit. “You seem a little young to be a marshal.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m guessing what, twenty-five?”

“He’s thirty-one,” Ian broke in, his hand snaking around the right side of the front seat where I was sitting to clench on my shoulder. “Pay attention.”

What?

I pivoted in my seat to look at him. “Are you all right?”

“I would have never guessed that,” Holley said softly, returning my attention to him.

After passing through the outer gate, we continued up the long snow-covered driveway, passing a half mile of low wood fence before it turned into paved road that was freshly plowed. Coming over a low hill, we saw the house, tennis courts, stables, and a lot of expensive glittering cars dusted in white. It looked like Jenner had company.

We had left only Officer Lautner back at the station
—
Kershaw would meet him there
—
so that meant Holley, Gilman, Breen, Colby, and Fann accompanied me and Ian to the Jenner home. Not that I was worried. Ian and I could have gone alone, but Holley was afraid there would be trouble. I tried to tell him that Ian ate trouble, but he wouldn’t hear it.

As soon as we parked and got out of the car, six men came walking out the front door of the enormous two-story log cabin with a wraparound porch. They lined the porch as the final man stepped out and came down the stairs toward us. No one moved but him.

“Chief,” he addressed him. “Something you need?”

“I need Drake Ford, Mr. Jenner,” Holley said quickly. “Now.”

“He’s not here,” Jenner said, glancing at me and Ian and then back to Holley.

“Well, we need to take a look around to confirm that.”

“You don’t have a warrant to do that,” Jenner stated, stopping in front of Ian and me.

“I do.” I interrupted their exchange, stepping forward, pulling my ID out for the man. “I’m a US marshal. Drake Ford is a federal witness and as such I have the authority to search your home for him.”

“You—”

“There are exigent circumstances here, sir, as I have no idea what shape my witness is in. I suggest you step aside and let me conduct my search.”

“I need to see badges!”

I turned and lifted my sweater, and Ian moved his coat so the man could spot the silver stars on both of us. “It would be better if you simply brought him out here to us, because it’s getting late and I’m feeling hesitant to do this alone.”

“Which means,” Ian explained, taking over from me, “that you will sit out here, on your knees in handcuffs until either the state police or marshals from the field office in West Virginia respond, whoever makes it here first.”

Jenner had a fox’s face, the vulpine features made even more noticeable by a widow’s peak and the small eyes. If his son was at all pretty, he owed that to his mother.

Turning, he called to one of his men to bring up Drake.

“Up?” Ian asked.

“From the wine cellar.”

It could not have been good.

“I need to see your son as well,” I added.

“Oh no,” Jenner barked, spinning around to face me, closing the gap between us fast and shoving me backward.

Or, more precisely,
trying
to shove me backward. I didn’t move an iota.

“You don’t get to see my son!” Jenner shouted in my face. “I know my rights!”

“If you did,” I said casually, grabbing his wrist, twisting it up sharply so that he gasped in surprise and pain as I put him on the ground on his knees. “You would not have assaulted a federal marshal.”

“What?” Jenner choked out as Ian wrenched his other arm behind him, then took the one I held and cuffed him. “You can’t do this!”

“Oh, I can,” I informed him, noting that not one of the men who had come out of the house with Jenner rushed over to help their boss. It was probably the whole US marshal thing that held them in check. “And I will.”

“Bring both boys out now!” Ian yelled toward the house. “Or you’ll all be placed under arrest for obstruction.”

No one moved.

“That’s it,” Ian said flatly, looking up at me. “Call our boss and tell him we need the state police out here or more marshals, whoever.”

I pulled out my phone and held it to my ear.

“Franklin,” Holley uttered the richest man in town’s first name.

“Bring both boys out!” Jenner shouted at his men.

They moved, so I ended the call which I was thankful for. It was a pain in the ass when the state police got involved. Herding cats was easier than coordinating large numbers of troopers who weren’t sure who they were supposed to be listening to. Kage was good at it, but Ian had too short a fuse, and I would rather do everything myself. I had always thought directing people was easy, that being in charge was merely an opportunity to be lazy, until I actually took a stab at supervising our department baseball team. I had tried to be everyone’s friend, to be understanding of schedules and times, and practice ended up being at ten at night on a Thursday because that was the most convenient time for everyone. It was ridiculous.

Being in charge meant you were not beloved, but feared, a little, and respected a lot. That was how Kage was. He wasn’t my favorite person. I could never see myself sitting on his couch with his family. But he would get us our backup, and when he arrived—and he
would
arrive, bringing hell with him—everyone would be really sorry they questioned either Ian’s or my authority.

“Oh shit,” Ian groaned.

I snapped my head up, and there, being helped down the stairs, was Drake Ford. I knew it was him without asking; he was smiling even though his left eye was swollen shut because Cabot Jenner had his arm around him, leading him. So even though blood stained the collar of his T-shirt, various cuts and contusions littered his face, and he was holding his side as if in pain, he was in heaven. He beamed at the smaller boy, who was slender, graceful, and simply radiant. They were night and day, and I understood the attraction right then and there.

Drake was all tight muscles on a swimmer’s frame. He was handsome, but there was nothing extraordinary about the brown hair and brown eyes unless you counted the way he was gazing with great longing at Cabot Jenner. Dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt and the bloody T-shirt, he could have been any boy in any small town. His boyfriend was another story.

Cabot was all boneless sensual movement, with light blond hair and big green eyes framed in long, thick gold lashes. His skin was flawless; he had delicate, sharp features with a short upturned nose and small bow lips. If I was eighteen, he would have been all I wanted too.

“Come here,” I said, gesturing to them.

They moved as quickly as they could, reached me, and waited. I put my hands on Drake, checking him over. “Who hit you?”

He didn’t answer.

“My father and his men,” Cabot whispered for him, and when his eyes flicked to mine, I saw the tears in them.

“I need you to go upstairs and pack a bag,” I directed. “Everything you want to take that you can’t live without. No electronics go with us, so reset your phone, laptop, and anything else. You’re walking out of your life right this second.”

“What?” Jenner gasped from where he knelt in the dirt.

“Wait, now,” Holley said, moving up beside me, grabbing Jenner by the bicep and hauling him to his feet. “You have no call to removing Cabot from his father’s—”

“He was with Mr. Ford the night he encountered Christopher Fisher. Until Mr. Jenner is questioned, I have no way of determining what precisely was said or inferred to him by Mr. Ford. I cannot, in good conscience, leave Cabot Jenner here since he, too, is a potential secondhand witness,” I explained logically. “Also, if I were to leave the younger Mr. Jenner here, and if the men looking for Mr. Ford were to show up and appropriate him, he could be used to coerce Mr. Ford.”

“You—” Jenner began.

“Therefore,” Ian continued my train of thought, “we have no choice but to include him in the provision for Mr. Ford.”

“What?” Jenner yelled.

“We’re taking your son,” Ian translated, his focus on Cabot as he took hold of Drake’s bicep, easing him free of his boyfriend’s grip. “Go get your shit, kid. One bag only. Do it now.”

He ran.

“Wow.” Drake smiled at me with his split lip, his closed left eye, and blood-filled right. “I’ve never seen him move that fast.”

“I suspect he wants to go with you,” Ian surmised.

“I will get my son back,” Jenner promised sternly.

Stepping around in front of him, I met his gaze. “This will be the last time you see your son, sir, unless the threat against him and Mr. Ford is eliminated. I don’t think you fully grasp what you’ve done here, but removing a federal witness is a very serious crime.”

Both Jenner and Holley stared at me in confusion.

“Have you not heard of the Malloy crime family?” Ian asked.

I got an e-mail alert and stepped back so Ian could talk while I checked my phone. The message was from Kage, and he explained he would expect status in another two hours when we would report either spending the night in Bowman or leaving with Ford. After I texted him, he sent one back, agreeing with my decision to remove Cabot as well. He would have the federal protection order changed. I tried to send him back a quick thank you, but my text didn’t send. I tried e-mailing as well, but suddenly I had no connection.

“Hey,” I said to Ian. “You have Internet on your phone?”

Pulling it out, he looked at it a second. “No, I got nothing.”

“Chief?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“You have any bars on your phone?”

Holley checked, and when he lifted his head, he was scowling. “I don’t even have emergency service. My phone’s dead.”

Jenner’s phone, when we pulled it from his pocket, was in the same condition.

“Marshal!”

We all turned toward the house where one of Jenner’s men was coming down the stairs, moving fast. When he reached us, it was like his boss wasn’t there: all his focus on Ian.

“There’s no electricity in the house or anywhere on the property. All we have is the backup generator.”

“That’s not possible,” Jenner snapped quickly.

“The land line is gone as well, and we seem to have a dead zone with cell service.”

“Inside!” Ian barked out the order. “Now!”

I swatted Drake’s arm. “Run up to your boyfriend’s room, kid, and bring him downstairs to the first floor.”

He bolted, and I turned and fisted my hand in the front of Ian’s sweater.

“Right behind you,” he promised, giving me a trace of a smile before I let go and sprinted toward the house.

“Everybody inside!” Ian shouted. “Take cover now!”

Gilman was hurled backward as I ran by him, dead before he hit the ground.

How much clearer was Ian supposed to be?

Breen died beside his car, Fann died in front of it; both of them shot in the head. I shouted at Colby to run, but he was frozen where he stood. He died seconds later.

Jenner’s man who had come from the house was running beside me but went down, hit in the back. The caliber on the bullets had to be huge—the blood spray was big. After diving toward the stairs with Ian beside me, we scrambled up and onto the porch.

“If there are any guns here,” Ian yelled at the men taking cover on the porch. “You need to get them!”

A man opened his mouth to say something but dropped to the ground, sliding down the exposed log wall leaving a trail of blood on all the rounded joints.

“Shit,” Ian roared, shoving me inside the open front door and down onto the polished wooden floor. I was pinned under him, his lips against my ear. “Do not get up. I’ll go get the boys and bring them here. We gotta get out of this house.”

“But we’re safe in the house,” I argued.

“We’re
so
not safe in the house, M,” he assured me. “It’s gonna be torched.”

I didn’t question him, just stayed where I was as he rose and moved in a crouching run toward the kitchen.

Outside, people were shouting, and suddenly Holley and Jenner flew through the front door.

“I need these cuffs off him!” Holley yelled at me.

Clambering over to them, I used Ian’s spare key that I had on the ring with mine and got the cuffs off. Another man was hit outside the doorway, and arterial spray splattered the window when he was shot in the throat.

“What the hell is going on?” Jenner screamed, terrified and unhinged.

“You removed a federal witness,” I answered flatly as he and Holley joined me low on the floor. “When you did, you made what was invisible, visible. Orson Malloy sent a sniper and God knows who else to kill Drake Ford. This is all on you.”

Holley turned to me, his eyes frantic with fear.

“They have us pinned down, we can’t call out since they’re using some kind of jammer, we’re too far back from the road for anyone to notice anything amiss, and they’ve already cut the power and the landline.” I looked at Jenner. “Do you have guns here?”