The Marshal Pt. 01

"Out!" he yelled while opening his door and scrambling out. Han didn't move, so he yanked the rear door open, reached in, and dragged her out by the hand. "We have to move!" he yelled. She probably hadn't heard him since his own ears were ringing like the bells of St. Patrick's Cathedral.

He took her arm before tugging her into a run. He didn't know where he was going or what he was going to do when he got there. He only knew they couldn't be here if more bad guys showed up.

Bo-bae sat in shock, unable to move, her ears ringing loudly as the two men fought in the front seat with teeth bared in feral snarls, the younger marshal's muscles bulging as they strained against each other, their snarls, grunts, and growls of effort their only sounds. Suddenly the younger marshal, the one that had taken her from the room and was driving, got the upper hand and beat the shit out of the older one.

"Out!" the driver yelled, but she barely heard him over her shock and the ringing of her ears. She started and shied away when her door was jerked open. He reached in, took her by the hand, and hauled her out of the car. "We have to move!"

He released her hand, grabbed her arm, and jerked her into motion. After a couple of steps her mind finally began catching up to what was happening. She was in danger of falling and being dragged as he trotted along, pulling her by the arm, so she put on a burst of wobbly speed to catch up, her heels making running difficult.

He hauled her to a stop before they'd covered a half-block. "Give me your shoes."

"What?"

"Give me your shoes! Hurry!" he demanded.

Panting and hopping on one foot while bracing against his broad shoulder, she pulled her left shoe off and handed it to him. He took it, pressed the heel against the building, and shoved hard, breaking the heel. He jerked the dangling heel free before handing the shoe back to her in exchange for the right one. As she donned her shoe, he snapped the heel off her second one.

With the three-inch heels removed, it was much easier to run. Taking her arm, he started them moving in a fast trot again. They reached the end of the block where he turned a corner, roughly shoving a group of pedestrians aside as they yelled and cursed him. They ran the block before turning again and crossing the street. The guy was a machine and seemed to be able to run forever, but she was about out of gas.

"Wait!" she gasped, pulling on him to slow him down. "I need to... catch my breath!" He slowed but kept them walking, his head swiveling back and forth as he took in their surroundings. "What the fuck... just happened?" she panted.

"I don't know. We were set up. Keep moving."

"But he... was another marshal... like you!"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me. He was going to kill me, then kill you."

"But why?"

"He wasn't a marshal, okay? He was probably sent by Kwang-hoon to kill you."

"But why didn't he--?"

"Too many witnesses," he said, cutting off her question before she could complete it. "He wanted to get us out in Bumfuck, Egypt, somewhere so he could do us and not get caught."

"How'd you know?"

"The change of plans didn't sound right. I didn't know... until he tried to pull his sidearm on me."

"Fuck," she breathed.

"Yeah. I should have known that fat bastard wasn't a marshal. In here," he said, steering her into a greasy spoon.

"How many?" the greeter, an older woman whose face spoke of years of hard work and stress, asked.

"Two. Booth. In the back," he ordered.

"This way," the woman said before leading them into the back of the dive with menus in hand.

"That one," he said, pointing to a booth in the corner.

"That's a booth for eight. We reserve that for a party of five or--" As she spoke, he pulled his badge off his belt and showed it to the greeter. "Oh! Yes, sir."

"Now what?" Bo-bae asked as he guided her into the booth.

"Now I try to find out what the hell is going on."

"Are you calling the cops?"

"No. I'm sure someone's already done that. I'm calling my boss," he replied as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He sat with the phone at ear for a moment. "Drew, it's Rob. We've got trouble. Someone made a play for Han."

She could only hear his half of the conversation, which made things even more confusing, and she had to pee. As he spoke, she looked around for the bathroom.

"For the moment. Someone knew I was coming. The marshals out here weren't expecting me. They thought I was coming in on a later flight. A guy was waiting for me at the airport. I screwed up. He was holding a sign with my name on it and I didn't check his credentials. I led him right to her."

"I'm going to the bathroom," she said softly as she began to slide out of the booth.

He pointed firmly at the booth, his eyes hard as he listened. "Yeah. He said there'd been a change in plan, and when I started to check on it, he pulled a gun."

She continued sliding out of the booth. He grabbed her arm and held her firmly. He wasn't hurting her, much, but his grip was like steel.

"Let go of me, asshole," she hissed as she tried to pry his fingers off her arm. He tightened his grip, and now it did hurt, causing her to bare her teeth in discomfort. She stopped trying to open his hand and he relaxed his grip slightly.

"No. I can probably still make the flight, but if they knew when I was coming in, they're going to know when we were scheduled to leave. They'll be watching for us."

She glared at him. She didn't know who this fuck he thought he was, but he wasn't treating her like some punk-ass girl. She'd have his balls on a plate for what he was doing.

"No, no place in L.A. I want to take her to Phoenix instead. That'll give us some space." He listened a moment. "No. Still too close. We were lucky this time, and I don't want to give them another shot at her." Another pause as he listened. "Okay. I'll call you when I get there," he said and hung up.

"Get your fucking hand off me," she snarled.

"Do you want the cuffs back on?" he growled in return, "because that's where you're headed."

"I have to take a piss, okay? Is that asking so much?"

"You don't get it, do you? I just saved your life, but that doesn't mean you're safe. Someone was willing to shoot a U.S. Marshal to get at you. If you go wandering off, I can't protect you."

"I just need to pee. How will they know where we are? Hell, I don't know where we are."

"Can I get you something?" the smiling waitress asked as she stopped at their table.

"You can get this asshole off me!"

The waitress glanced between the two, her eyes going to his hand on Bo-bae's arm. "Sir... I--"

"U.S. Marshal," he said, showing his badge. "Give us five minutes."

Her eyes widened. "Oh! Sorry! Yes, sir." She scurried away.

"You think that badge makes you hot shit, don't you?"

"I think I'm going to cuff and gag you if you don't shut the hell up."

"So are you going to make me sit here until I wet my pants? You get off on that?"

"No. But you need to stay close to me."

He nudged her, and they began sliding out of the booth. She did have to pee, but she wasn't so desperate that she couldn't have waited until he was off the phone. He kept his hand on her arm, but his grip was much looser now. When they arrived at the restroom, she couldn't believe it, but he followed her in without a break in his step. She turned and put her hand on his chest.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? You can't come in here."

"Fine," he said, pulling her back. "You can use the men's room."

"What? No!"

"Then make up your mind."

"Where am I going to go?"

"I'm checking it out, whether you like it or not."

She fumed a moment. "You're such a gaesaekki!" she snarled as she shoved the door open again. "Anyone in here?" she called. There was no answer.

He quickly checked the stalls and nodded. "I'll be right outside the door," he said as he turned toward the exit.

She sat down on the toilet but couldn't go, the thought of that asshole standing outside the door, probably keeping anyone else from entering, causing her to dry up. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes closed as she tried to relax. She was almost ready to start when the door squeaked open. The rising urge to relieve herself vanished.

"Hurry up," he snapped.

"I can't go with you rushing me!"

"Oh for..." he muttered.

An instant later water started running in the sink, and a moment after that, she had to pee in the worst way. As soon as she started, the water in the sink shut off and she heard the door squeak open and close. She finished, washed her hands, and opened the door to stare at his broad back. He glanced around, took her arm in a loose grip, and escorted her back to the table. She slid in first before he slid in beside her.

The young waitress with purple stripes in her hair appeared again. "Ready?"

"You want anything?" he asked.

"No. This place is disgusting."

"Suit yourself." He opened a menu and glanced it over. "Give me a bacon-cheeseburger, onion rings, and water." She looked at him curiously. It was still breakfast time in California. "I've been on the road since three-thirty this morning, so this is the middle of the afternoon for me."

"Ah," she grunted with a smile as she scribbled. "Got'cha." She looked at Bo-bae, but the friendliness was gone from her eyes that had been there when she was talking to Rob.

"Water." The waitress began to turn away. "In a clean glass!" She waited until waitress was out of hearing. "Bitch," she muttered.

"What's your problem?" he asked, his eyes hard.

"I'm sick of this shit. I told the U.S. Attorney guy Kwang-hoon was dangerous and I needed protection, but he blew me off. Now I'm sitting in this shithole of a diner after someone tried to kill me. That's my problem."

"You're still alive, aren't you?" he asked, his voice flat and unemotional.

"No thanks to you. You led a killer right to me." She saw the words stung and she smiled to herself.

"Yeah. That was my screwup... so why are you taking it out on the waitress? She didn't have anything to do with it."

"I don't like the way she looks at me. She doesn't know me."

"No, she doesn't, and you're making a winning first impression."

His words stung her that time. "You think I care about what some minimum wage waitress thinks about me?"

"No. I don't think you care what anyone thinks because you only think about yourself."

"Fuck you, asshole," she muttered.

"Sorry, you're not my type."

She glared at him. Rob, at least she assumed that was his name from the phone call, was panty dropping handsome. He was tall, at least six-one, with dark hair and eyes, thin nose, strong chin, and high cheekbones. Not only was his face classically handsome, he was also seriously built, his shirt tight over his big arms, broad shoulders, and muscular chest. While his hair wasn't a military buzz cut, it was shorter than average, but it was a look that worked for him. He looked like the type of guy that could seriously fuck a man up in a back-alley brawl, and in the next minute fuck the guy's woman until she was screaming in pleasure. Normally he was the type of guy she'd go for, the dark, dangerous type, but she didn't like his holier than thou attitude or the way he ordered her around.

"Two waters," the waitress said, placing the glasses on the table.

"Hey!" Bo-bae cried. Her glass less than half the size of Rob's.

"I'm very sorry, ma'am, but that was the only clean glass I could find," the waitress said with exaggerated politeness before turning away.

"You think that's funny?" she demanded when he started chuckling. It pissed her off that he was laughing at her, but the darkness left his face and he appeared open and friendly.

"Yeah, I do. You brought it on yourself."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence. His burger showed up, and the smell of it was enticing. He must have noticed her watching him eat because he nudged his plate toward her. She picked one of the onion rings off his plate. It was crisply fried, and while it wasn't as tasty as the twigim onions she could get back home, it surprisingly good. She ate it but wouldn't give him the satisfaction of eating another.

As he was finishing his burger, his phone rang. He quickly wiped his fingers and lips before pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Cogburn."

He listened for a moment then nodded. "Right. That's what the other two said." He paused. "Yeah, but how the fuck did they know I was coming, and who called them?" There was another pause. "Yeah, Phoenix. I think that's six or seven hours from here. We should be there before dark." He listened again. "Ten am, Delta Flight 1066. Got it. Thanks, Drew. I'll call when we're on the plane."

"What's happening?" she asked as he made some notes on his phone.

"We're going to catch a flight out of Phoenix in the morning."

"What? Not just no, but hell no. I'm not driving all the way to Phoenix with you, and I'm damned sure not spending the night with you."

He picked up the bill and began sliding out of the booth. "If that's what you want. Phoenix is where our ride is. I can leave you here, call Martinelli, and tell him you've changed your mind about testifying. Then you'll be free to do what you want."

"Who's Martinelli?"

He paused in his sliding. "The United States Attorney, Southern District, New York. He's the one who arranged all this."

She sat in the booth, glaring at him, daring him to leave her. After a moment he shrugged and began sliding out of the booth again, paid, and walked out. She sat for about ten minutes, waiting for him to return. He didn't. She began to worry he was going to leave her, or already had, and slid out of the booth. She hurried to the door and looked through the glass, but she didn't see him. Panic began to set in. What if the jopok--the Korean version of the mafia her father lead--got him? She didn't care so much about the marshal, but if the thugs got him, she'd have no one to protect her. She burst through the doors and onto the sidewalk. Rob was standing off to the side, talking on his phone.

He looked at her and grinned. The gaesaekki, she growled to herself. He hung up as she slinked to him. "A cab will be here in a few minutes to take us to Long Beach."

"You're such an asshole," she said, giving voice to her thoughts of a moment ago.

"Yeah, yeah. I've got a car waiting for us there. We'll drive to Phoenix, catch the plane in the morning, and when we land in New York you'll be rid of me."

"Not a moment too soon."

"I'm sure you'll be surprised to learn I feel the same way about you."

She scowled at him. "Would you have really left me?"

"I have no authority to make you do anything you don't want to do. You're not charged with anything and you're not under arrest. You're free to walk away right now if you want to."

"But what about Kwang-hoon and what happened?"

"What about it? You think you can take of yourself."

She licked her lips. "Okay. You win."

He nodded once. "No more shit from you, agreed? I'll protect you, but you have to want to be protected for it to work."

"Fine."

"Okay. Go back inside, back to our table, and wait for me. It's not safe for you out here."

"That's why you left me inside? Because it's safe?" He smiled down at her. The bastard had played her. "You're still a fucking gaesaekki."

"Gaesaekki? What's that?"

"An asshole or son-of-a-bitch."

His grin spread. "Yeah. I'm the gaesaekki that's keeping you alive."

She turned on her toe and stomped into the diner. The only person who would ever dare treat her like this dick of a marshal was her brother, Kwang-hoon. She couldn't say anything to Kwang-hoon because, frankly, she was afraid of him. Rob, on the other hand, simply didn't give a shit. If she'd spoken to Kwang-hoon the way she had Rob, Kwang-hoon would have flown into a rage, and when he was like that, nobody could predict what he'd do. Rob, on the other hand, didn't get mad or upset, he simply ignored her. Even when he was manhandling her, he only used enough force to bend her to his will and no more. He wasn't deliberately cruel, not like Kwang-hoon.

When Bo-bae and Kwang-hoon were kids, Kwang-hoon liked to hurt her for no reason other than he could. He never did it when he thought he might get caught, and if she complained to Mom or Dad, it only made things worse. The only good thing to come from it was she'd learned to take care of herself.

She returned to the booth and sat down. Their plates and utensils had already been cleared away. The tiny glass of water she'd been given hadn't quenched her thirst, and now she didn't even have the ice to suck on, but the waitress studiously ignored her. Bo-bae glared at waitress as she lounged behind the counter talking with the rest of the staff. She tried several times to get the girl's attention, but finally gave up. She fucking hated fucking California. She was about to get up and go demand a glass of water when Rob stepped in and waved her to him.

Forgetting the water, she went to him. There was a cab sitting at the curb. He opened car's door, placing his hand on her head to protect it as he guided her into car, and then slid in beside her. The drive to the airport was uneventful, but as they rolled to a stop at the terminal, butterflies started fluttering in her stomach.

"I thought you said they could be waiting for us here," she murmured, trying to keep her nervousness out of her voice.

"This is a different airport than the one we were going to fly out of."

Rob handed cash to the driver and slid out of the cab. He again took her arm, firmly but gently, and directed her into the terminal.

"Why are you always holding onto me? You get off on manhandling and fondling women?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"Seriously, why?"

"So if something starts going down, I already have control of you. Stop here."

He pulled her to a stop at an ATM. He withdrew a wad of cash, his eyes always moving. I didn't know if he was afraid of being robbed or was watching for more of Kwang-hoon's jopok. Probably the latter. The pistol on his hip and the badge conspicuously displayed on his belt was terrific goon repellent.

Hand on her arm, he led her to the rent-a-car desks. "Rob Cogburn. I have a reservation," he said as they stepped up to the counter.

The woman typed. "Yes sir, Mr. Cogburn. I see you have rented our mid-size Mazda 3. For only--"

"The Mazda is fine," he interrupted. "I'll take the insurance but nothing else. It's one way to Phoenix, right?"

"Yes sir," she said as she typed. She finished typing and printed out a form. He signed it and slid it back. "You may take any car in row B. The key is already in the car, in the center console. Anything else I can do for you today, Mr. Cogburn?"

Bo-bae rolled her eyes. The clerk was practically drooling over him. If he'd asked her to drop to her knees and suck his cock, she'd probably be only too happy to do that for him too. Bo-bae wondered if he had that effect on all the women he talked to.

"No. Thank you. You've been very helpful."

"Why are we renting a car? Doesn't the FBI have a car you can use?"

"Marshals, not FBI. I want to keep this off the radar. Somebody sold me out, and until I know who it was, and how they knew, I'm not taking any chances."

She nodded. They paused at the door to the parking lot as he looked around, before they quick stepped it to the cars. He took the first car in the line, a deep red one. He opened the passenger door for her, placing his hand on the top of her head like he did every time she got into a car. He shut the door and hurried around to the driver's side and began sliding the seat back, dropping into the seat with the door still open as soon as he'd fit, and continued motoring the seat rearward until he could get his legs in.