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“I’m sorry, Maric, but I didn’t mean to, I was trying to help her skirt get back in place. I mean it’s undignified and…”
“Stop talking, Linley.” Just the tone in his voice, full of world-weary exasperation, let me know he’d been on the job for at least two years, and I was betting more than five.
“I’m sorry—”
“Shut the fuck up, Linley, I mean it.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Get off the ground and go sit in the car.”
Linley got to his feet, still trying to explain. “I didn’t mean to touch her, I swear.”
“Go to the car and dust your pants off before you sit in it.”
“Marshal Blake, I’m really sorry, I would never—”
“Go sit in the fucking car, right the fuck now, and stop fucking digging yourself into a deeper fucking hole.” And yes, he was yelling.
Officer Linley walked away, toward the car I assumed, but I couldn’t see past Maric’s legs. He muttered a few words in a language I didn’t understand, then in totally unaccented English said, “I can’t apologize for him enough, let’s get you on your feet at least.”
“Can you uncuff me?”
“I’m sorry, truly, but until someone okays it, or I get permission for you to okay it yourself as a preternatural marshal, I can’t take off the restraints, but I can get you up off the ground.”
He leaned down to take my arm, and Nicky started to take my other arm, so they’d get me standing together. Maric stopped with his hand on my arm but no upward movement. “Who are you?”
“Her boyfriend.”
“I thought you were her bodyguard.”
“He’s both,” I said. I could feel the two men staring at each other over my back.
“As her security I can’t let her be manhandled, as her boyfriend I want to start punching people in the face,” Nicky said, voice a little less growly.
“I can understand all that,” Maric said. “Let’s get Marshal Blake up off the ground and you can help her with her skirt.”
They lifted me together so there was as little strain on my shoulders as possible. I appreciated the effort. My skirt swung into place almost; Nicky gently pulled the pleats down and even fluffed the edges so that it lay nicely. I wanted to kiss him, but I was still trying to persuade the nice officer that I was the marshal they needed, and kissing on my lovers wouldn’t up my credibility with the other cops. I had to settle for “Thanks, Nicky.”
“You’re welcome. Do you want Ethan to bring your shoes?”
I stood there feeling the cooler concrete under my stocking feet but shook my head. “No, my balance isn’t good enough in them for handcuffs.”
“The hose are slippery; do you want to take them off?” he asked.
I shook my head again. “They’ll be fine until I get on a man-made floor, but you’re welcome to keep a hand on my arm just in case.”
“My pleasure,” he said, then leaned in and whispered, “Maybe we can play with handcuffs at home sometime?”
My first instinct was no, and then I remembered the feel of him looming behind me as I lay on the ground, and…whispered back, “I love it when we play together.”
He smiled, and so did I, and then Ethan whispered through my mind, “The Wicked Truth won’t go into the ambulance until they see you.”
Our smiles vanished, and I spoke over my shoulder to Maric. “I have to check how badly hurt my men are, so either take the cuffs off or I’m going to walk out of your custody wearing them.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
I wondered if Officer Linley was safe to leave on his own, but it wasn’t my job to keep track of him, so I just kept walking toward the restaurant. Nicky’s hand was a reassuring presence on my left arm. “I appreciate you leaving my right arm free like normal, but since I can’t use my hands and they still have my gun, maybe switch arms in case you need your gun hand free.”
