Fish Out of Water (15 page)

Fuck! Ellery
,
run!

But he couldn’t talk, couldn’t scream, could only watch as the filth crawled up the pale skin, as those bright eyes, dark and curious, went flat and dead, like those of the young cop who’d given Jackson shit today. That kid had let his heart die already. Ellery hadn’t, but Jackson couldn’t stop it, and he could only watch it happen. Could only struggle, his cries trapped by the putrid
thing
forcing its way down Jackson’s throat. Could only kick when the thing invaded him, forcing him to stay because of pain, the intrusive pain of a bullet through flesh or a missile up his ass. It didn’t matter; something was forcing his flesh wide open, and Jackson was bound and gagged and scared and—

Boom!

Ellery!

Jackson saw Ellery’s blood, bones, and gray matter spattered across his eyeballs as the dream fucking
won
and all he could hear was screams.

THE BEDROOM
light had gone out about an hour before Ellery was done working, and he silently blessed the fact that Jackson was getting some sleep.

Ellery had seen the rings of exhaustion under his eyes.

For the first time, he wondered if they were there because of more than a night of catting around.

God, the asshole had been so unassuming about it too. “Hey, I know you put yourself out to be in my house tonight, but since you’re here, if you hear me in some fucking psychic pain, maybe just call my name and chill me out, okay?”

All casual, nothing scary to see here folks, just a guy who’d had his life ripped away and forged a harder, more dangerous life in its wake.

Ellery felt both proud and ashamed of his attempts to seduce Jackson Rivers.

Proud because he usually wasn’t the aggressor. No, he was no longer the sad, awkward college boy who had to let his mother in on his every decision. But he wasn’t the alley cat either, making an effort to shake his ass to attract a likely tom. He’d been damned near suave this night, and the fact that Jackson had looked tempted was something of a personal victory.

But he was ashamed because Jackson, whose morals Ellery would have said didn’t exist, had needed to remind him
repeatedly
that they had more going on than just two guys and their libidos.

It was clear to see that Jackson’s family—in the truly bonded sense of the word—was at work here, and Ellery, the interloper, had no right to distract Jackson from his job.

Ellery was more of a professional than this.

Which was what he told himself as he typed up his notes for the next day’s bail hearing. He was a good lawyer. He had the potential to be a
great
lawyer, and if he could protect Kaden Cameron from all the demons lying in wait for him in this pit of corruption and serpents, then he’d consider himself well on his way.

So he’d almost regained his equilibrium—and his secret sort of relief that not
all
of Jackson’s exploits were sexual—when he heard the first stirrings of the dreams that “weren’t that bad.”

“Jackson?” he called, not sure how loud he’d need to be. The muffled screaming and the pounding on the bed continued. “Jackson!”

And they only got louder.

Ellery hit Save on his finished brief and closed his laptop. Cautiously he stood up and padded down the hall, turning the lights off as he went.

He’d never had cause to be afraid of the dark.

He knocked tentatively on Jackson’s door, hoping that might interrupt the dream. “Jackson? You said call your—”

“
Nooooo
!”

Oh
fuck
this shit!

Ellery charged through the unlocked door and, in the light from the sliding glass door, saw Jackson sitting up in bed and screaming. The cat was cowering in the corner, and even in the dimness, Ellery saw the sweat pouring from Jackson’s face.

“
Jackson
!” he shouted. His knees sank into the bedding, and he grabbed the sleeping man by his shoulders and shook him hard.

Jackson flailed, all muscle and bone. Ellery dodged—and didn’t dodge—a couple of blows, but aside from a solid clock to his shoulder, nothing landed with enough force to bruise. Holding on to Jackson proved the most difficult. He twisted and lunged and screamed until Ellery was forced to wrap his arms around those wide shoulders and throw them both on their sides.

There was no instant awakening, just a gradual reduction of the struggle. They stayed there, Ellery’s chest to Jackson’s back, until Jackson’s breathing slowed and the flailing arms became a simple tightening in the chest.

“Jackson?” Ellery’s voice sounded frightened, there in the dark, and his heart was pounding hard enough that he felt it in his stomach. That had been… horrible. Terrifying. Jackson did that a few times a
week
?

“It’s not—” Jackson took a breath. “—usually that bad.”

Ellery wanted to hit him—and he wanted to cry. “What in the hell? Not usually that bad? Is it
ever
that bad?”

The sound Jackson let out might conceivably have been a whimper, if it hadn’t issued from Jackson Rivers’s throat.

“You’re okay?” Jackson asked, like the words were forced out. “Just… you’re okay. Tell me you’re okay and you can go back to—”

“I’m here,” Ellery murmured, rubbing his cheek against Jackson’s hair. “I’m here. I don’t know what you saw in the dream, but I’m here.”

This time it really
was
a whimper. “Okay. Okay, good. Thank you.”

“I’m going to straighten out the covers, okay?” They were rumpled underneath Ellery’s shoulder, and he hated that. A little bit of struggling and some tugging and then Ellery had them both under the thin comforter, grateful that Jackson’s air-conditioning had finally started working. He wrapped Jackson up tight in the blankets and then added his arms across Jackson’s chest again, rocking him softly.

“Sorry,” Jackson whispered, not rejecting the comfort. “Sorry. So sorry. It was bad this time.”

“Want to talk about it?” Wasn’t that what they said? You talked about the dream and it got better?

“No.” Jackson burrowed more deeply into the covers and back into Ellery’s chest, grinding his ass up against Ellery’s groin. Ellery grunted and thrust back against him, half in arousal and half in irritation. Even
he
knew this wasn’t the time.

Jackson’s strangled laugh told him Jackson knew it too. “Really?”

“It’s been a while,” Ellery mumbled.

“Stop flirting with judges,” Jackson chided back, his voice sleepy and slurred.

“He’s a
friend
!” Ellery protested, half laughing himself. The Honorable Todd Lang, fortyish, buff, with silvering blond hair and a liberal bent, had been Ellery’s racquetball partner and lunch date for the past three years. As far as Ellery knew, Todd was straight, and as far as Todd knew, Ellery was a shitty racquetball player.

And that was all.

“You flirt,” Jackson mumbled. “Your eyes get all glowy and you smile. Don’t smile at the office—just look all badass.” Jackson’s shiver was the only thing that kept Ellery from taking offense.

“I’m trying to keep up with
you
,” he said truthfully. “You’ve got the bad-boy thing going, and the ex-cop thing going, and the PI thing going—”

“Most boring job in the world. I’ve done more fucking sudoku than should be allowed by law.”

Ellery chuckled, glad that some of the lost-and-scared was fading from his voice. “Well, you swagger. You swagger into the office and flirt with…
everybody
,
and walk out with people on your arm. Playing racquetball with a judge is small potatoes.”

Jackson’s chuckle bordered on a sob. “Anything,” he confessed brokenly. “Anybody.” He pulled in a ragged breath. “Human shields. Keeping the monsters away.”

“Sh… sh….” Because it was clear that just mentioning the monsters made them big and strong and real-life again. “I’ll be your human shield tonight, okay?”

Jackson nodded miserably, face half-buried in the comforter. “Just need to know you’re all right. Kaden’s in jail—someone’s got to be all right.”

His voice was thick, syrupy, jagged, and Ellery’s heart gave a giant painful thump.

He was crying like a child, and he didn’t want Ellery to see.

“C’mere,” Ellery whispered, shoving at Jackson’s shoulder until they were facing each other. He seized Jackson’s hand, clammy and clenched, and brought it up until the battered knuckles dragged against Ellery’s cheek. “Feel? I’m fine.”

Jackson nodded, green eyes closed, lush playboy mouth pursed. Even in the darkness, Ellery could see his lashes were spiky, and the light from outside reflected off the shiny parts of his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he whispered. He took a deep breath but kept his eyes closed. “I used to have girlfriends,” he said. “And boyfriends. And relationships.” He took another breath. “I miss those.”

“Why’d they stop?”

“’Cause I almost died. Was seeing a girl when I started wearing the wire… broke up with her because….”

“Because undercover is hard.” Ellery had represented a couple of people who had done that—gone in, recorded the bigger crime, got out of jail. One day. Maybe two. An hour. Not three months. Almost in spite of himself, he wiped the dampness from Jackson’s cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah.” Jackson sighed. His breathing deepened, grew a little steadier. “When I got shot, the only people there for me….”

“Were the Camerons.”

Jackson’s voice was even, nearly asleep. “I miss their mom.” One more breath, and a shudder, and he was out.

Ellery was tired. He’d finished what he needed for the courtroom. He just needed to print it out, but he could do that at the courthouse. His phone was set in the kitchen at top volume, and he assumed Jackson had set an alarm of his own. Screw the couch—or getting up, for that matter.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his arm a little tighter around Jackson’s shoulders.

A human shield to keep the monsters away.

IN SPITE
of the lateness of the hour when they fell asleep—and the exhaustion—Ellery woke up a few minutes before either of the alarms went off. Jackson was still tight up against his body, and he was backed up against the wall.

For a moment he just lay there with his eyes closed and took stock.

He had a bruise on his shoulder. That was uncomfortable. The temperature had dropped in the night, and that made the heat Jackson’s body threw off bearable. And Ellery Cramer, who hadn’t gotten laid in a
year
,
was in bed with an insanely hot man—who had an unashamedly broken soul.

And there was a cat sprawled on his hip, laid like a casual scarf on a shoulder.

Oh yeah.

And Ellery needed to save Kaden Cameron’s life that morning.

Reluctantly he opened his eyes. And found Jackson’s gaze fastened hungrily on his face. He hoped his morning smile was a good one, because Jackson got it up close and personal.

Jackson didn’t smile back. “I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes darkening. “This was not… you were never supposed to see that.”

Ellery felt a flush of mortification heat his throat and cheeks. “Well, I’m no one-night stand, but I think I did okay.”

Jackson grunted and rolled away. “One-night stands never see that,” he said gruffly, standing up. “
Jade
has never seen that. I’ll shower first.”

He started stripping, his back to Ellery, shoulders rippling as he pulled off his tank and shoved his shorts down. Ellery got a glimpse of Jackson’s ass—taut, heavily muscled—as he stalked out of the room.

Huh.

So
Jade
had never seen that. Ellery could actually get out of bed on that one—which he had to do anyway because, well, clothes.

He scowled and swung over to Jackson’s closet. They were roughly the same size, and Ellery seemed to remember Jackson wearing… where were they… he knew they were in there….

Hm. Old service uniform, wedding suit, an astounding array of sport coats, some jeans in the hanging wire shelves. Oh, come on! Ellery had seen him wear them to court himself!

Ah, there they were. Two basic suits, European cut, one with pinstripes on charcoal and one in navy.

Woot! Ellery would far rather use the extra time they had that morning getting his case together than going to his house for clothes.

He made the bed and laid the suit out, hoping for approval, and was in the process of raiding Jackson’s underwear drawer when Jackson emerged from the shower, towel over his hips, looking barely more awake than he had when he’d gone in.

“Why am I wearing a suit?” he grumbled, looking puzzled.

“You’re not—
I
am. This way we’ll have time to print out the brief now and we won’t have to rely on finding a printer at the courthouse.”

“Oh.” Jackson scowled at the suits on the bed. “Why don’t you wear olive or brown?”

Ellery squinted back at him. “Because you don’t
have
olive or brown?”

“No, moron—
your
suits. You keep picking my colors. Navy, by the way. Gray pinstripes look okay on you, but navy or olive or brown look much better.”

“Because gray pinstripes are serious suits,” Ellery said with dignity. He wasn’t aware a man could look
bad
in a gray pinstripe suit.

“You have dark hair and dark eyes and pale skin. Just no. But anyway, aren’t you afraid your judge friends will think we’re sleeping together?”

Ellery tried to pretend he didn’t get a gut-punch of thrill at the thought that someday that might just be true. “It will probably make me look sexier,” he said glumly. “It may even improve my chances the next time I’m out on the—ungh—”

Jackson still had one hand on the towel around his waist, but he wrapped the other arm around Ellery’s hips, flattening his palm against Ellery’s stomach and yanking him back so Ellery was flush against his body. “You listen to me,” he growled. “If you are in
my
bed, you are there until I say you’re not—you understand?”

Ellery gasped and his temper spiked—and so did his passion.