A parked car didn’t stop our suspect; he did an impressive parkour leap over it, completing a maneuver that had him using his hands to go down on all fours for a second before he vaulted the ancient Oldsmobile. Kage didn’t stop either, doing the classic Dukes of Hazzard slide over the hood that all the men in my life had perfected.
Ridiculous.
“Why is going around the car so difficult?” I roared after him.
“Jones!”
Because apprehending the fugitives was a coordinated strike, I had a stupid earpiece in from when the breach happened, and we were all connected. But after things got squared away afterward, everyone else dropped off except the guys I worked with on a day-to-day basis. Normally I was the only person in my head, but because I was chasing Kage and they were all thinking they were being helpful, I had my entire team of deputy US marshals not only checking on me but shouting directions at the same time.
“Can you see him?” Wes Ching yelled.
“Pull your gun, Jones, just to be on the safe side!” Jack Dorsey suggested loudly. “But don’t shoot him, for fuck’s sake.”
He was being a dick. “I’m gonna shoot you when I get back!” I growled. We never ran with our guns out. That was a rookie move.
“You gotta stay right with him!” Chris Becker barked into my ear.
Like I didn’t know that?
“If he slows down, don’t leave him!” Mike Ryan insisted with a snarl.
Because I couldn’t stop or mess with my momentum in any way, there was no time to reach up and pull out the tiny earpiece to silence them. “Will you guys quit with the screaming already? Fuck!”
“Yeah, don’t leave his side, Jones!” Ethan Sharpe demanded, ignoring me.
“I know,” I roared to everyone in general. “For fuck’s sake!”
“Make sure you yell for people to get out of his way!” Jer Kowalski instructed.
“Really?” I snapped. “‘Yell for people to move’ is your advice?”
“Somebody’s pissy,” he commented snidely. “I suggest more running, less talking, Jones.”
“Keep up with him!” Ching cautioned.
I needed all these orders because clearly I’d only been a goddamn marshal for one day.
“Are you close enough to shoot anyone who tries to touch him?” This from Chandler White, who normally didn’t try to boss me around but was clearly making an exception this time because, again, I was apparently some kind of newb who couldn’t tell his ass from a hole in the ground.
“You have him in your line of sight, right?” Eli Kohn wanted to know.
“Fuck, yes!” I shouted.
“You gotta get close, but not too close,” Sharpe felt the need to tell me.
I growled.
“Try and get in front of him. That would be better,” Kowalski suggested.
“I swear to fuckin’ God, you all—”
“You know he can’t do that,” Eli objected. “Since Kage is the first one in pursuit, Miro can’t—”
“Kill the chatter,” Ching broke in angrily. “You’re all lucky Kage doesn’t have an earpiece in, or we’d all be dead.”
It was true, but since Kage was in the command center during the initial breach and was only allowed to come out when we got the all-clear, he never put in an earpiece like the rest of us.
I saw the guy turn into an apartment building and Kage follow right behind. “No, no, no,” I grumbled under my breath.
“God fucking dammit, Jones, you better not let any—”
“Will you guys all lay off!” Ian warned gruffly, and his rough whiskey voice was a welcome relief. “You know Miro’s got this covered. He’s not stupid; he knows what he’s doing. Give the man a little fuckin’ credit!”
It was good to have someone on my side who didn’t doubt my mental or physical ability and who would champion me to the others. But that wasn’t surprising; I could always count on Ian. The moment of silence that followed his outburst was soothing.
“But you can see him, right?”
“Ian!” I howled, utterly betrayed.
“I’m just asking!” he yelled back defensively.
“You can all go straight to hell!” I bellowed before I tore through the front door of the apartment building after Kage, going up the stairs right on his heels, one level after the next, Ian in my ear the whole time along with everyone else.
“You’re very sensitive, M,” Eli commented.
“Kiss my ass,” I said, careening around a corner as I followed Kage up and up.
Funny how much Eli and I had changed in the past five months. From November to March, Thanksgiving to St. Patrick’s Day, our friendship progressed, and he’d evolved from Kohn to Eli, a permanent shift in my head.
“And Ian, you can—”
“Are you still on the street?” Eli pressed.
“Where the hell is Ian?”
“He’s offline. The SOG team made the secondary interior breach,” Dorsey informed us. And while I wasn’t crazy about that, he was one of many, not leading the rest of the men.
“Miro, where the fuck are you, because GPS is showing you now at—”