Fish Out of Water (20 page)

“Yes. And by the way, nice move with the pressing charges.”

Jackson grunted, and Ellery wished he could risk a look at his face. “You think that was on purpose?” He scrubbed some more at his cheek.

“There are wipes in the glove compartment,” Ellery told him sympathetically. Yeah. He’d want a full Silkwood after that too. “And it’s gross and I’m sorry, but it was a good move. And while I was doing my job with Bridger, you were getting a bead on Carillo. I mean….” He flushed. “I always knew you were good, Jackson.
Always
knew you were good at your job. But working with you? That’s a rush. You and me together? We can get shit
done
.”

Jackson’s reluctant chuckle warmed him. “The firm isn’t going to pay for you to have your own private private. You know that, right?”

Ellery paused and thought about it. “I don’t know. I mean, this case—it’s going to be
big.
”

The thoughtful pause was welcome, because it meant Jackson was thinking—and he was clever as hell. “You want to open your own firm,” he said after a moment.

Hearing it said out loud? Was terrifying. “That wasn’t why I took the job at the firm.” He could remember: him, his mother, and his sister, Eileen, sitting at the table and running numbers for which career path would yield the most success and the biggest opportunity to make an impact. He hadn’t wanted to run for office—he’d just wanted to be the big dog at what he did.

“Yeah? Why did you take this job?”

“I wanted maximum impact.” It sounded self-righteous and priggish to his own ears.

“That’s exciting.”

And judging by the dryness of his tone, it didn’t do much for Jackson either.

“I mean, I was supposed to become a partner. This case, if we’re successful, that would practically guarantee a partnership.” And even as he said it, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

“Why the change in plans?”

They reached a stop sign, and Ellery turned to meet his eyes. “Because I don’t want to ever have to defend a guy like Bridger. Or that scum weasel who killed the schoolteacher for drug money. I
like
advocating for people like Kaden—”

“You don’t always get innocent people,” Jackson said, one of his eyebrows going up. “Green light.”

Ellery checked the light and hit the gas.

And then hit the brake, barely avoiding the speeding black Dodge Durango hurtling through the intersection with a loud backfire.

Ellery put his hand to his chest, adrenaline thundering through his system at the near miss, and when he looked to check on Jackson—

He wasn’t doing so good.

“Jesus. Jackson—”

“Just drive,” Jackson said through gritted teeth. “I’m going to send Jade that license number.”

“You got the license number?” Ellery was impressed—and not reluctantly anymore. Now that he was on the same side, he wanted to root for Jackson like a slutty cheerleader.

“Yeah,” Jackson said through a gasp of air. “Just keep… just head for where you were headed, okay?”

Ellery looked at him. He was dripping with sweat, face a clammy white. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I know that car.” He was making an effort to breathe shallowly. “It’s the same car that drove by when Connie Coulson was shot. I’d recognize that backfire anywhere.”

Oh God.

Suddenly
Ellery
wasn’t doing so good. “That was on purpose,” he said, horrified. “They were trying to ram us—”

“And probably shoot us while we were figuring our ass from our end,” Jackson said, nodding. “C’mon, Jade. Text me back.”

Ellery’s hands were sweating by the time he found FedEx Office, and he was relieved when Jackson got out of the car and went inside with him. He was trying really hard not to fall apart.

Jackson must have seen, though, because his hand—hot and moist, no doubt—rested briefly in the small of his back as they went through the door. It was a small touch, impersonal perhaps, but it hadn’t been necessary. Jackson was taking care of him.

Ellery’s stomach calmed down a tad, and he remembered that he could breathe in the air-conditioning. He nodded at the guy working the bigger machines, who nodded back as he grabbed the counter key from the rack. Then he steered Jackson to a color copier and got to work.

Jackson tapped madly on his phone, head down, peering up every now and then to take in his surroundings, and Ellery made and collated ten copies of Jackson’s pillaged file. When he was done, he bought mailers and sent a copy to each of the firm’s partners, the DA, Arizona, a contact he had at the DOJ, and his mother.

Jackson had come out of his phone coma by then, and as he watched Ellery copy the addresses, he let out a strained chuckle.

“Mrs. Taylor Cramer, Esq.?”

“My mother,” Ellery replied, not smiling. “She may be a colossal pain in the ass as far as my love life is concerned, but if you and I get taken out the next time we get in the car, this will make sure she has my back.”

Jackson grunted. “Hunh.”

“Hunh?” Ellery glanced over his shoulder. “You don’t have a contingency plan?” he asked, feeling as though, given the life Jackson had lived, this would be a given. “You know, in case?”

Jackson shrugged. “Yeah. If I’m taken out, J, K, Rhonda, the kids, they get all the money I have in the bank and they get the hell out of Sacramento. Mike gets the duplex. I had it drawn up in a will about two years after I got out of the hospital.”

“Hunh.” Ellery finished addressing the envelope and started to gather the pile of them on the counter.

“Hunh what?”

“I don’t know. I would have thought something more… vengeful. Like ‘get the assholes who took me out.’”

“Yeah, well….” Jackson pursed his lips. “Thing with that is, we had that plan in place right up until the kids were born. And I woke up and there was this… you know. I mean, she was Kaden and Rhonda’s, but she was named after
me
, and Jade was in her life too. We had one of those late-night beer-and-whine sessions right after I got the job at the firm, and I said I didn’t want them…
doing
anything if something bad happened to me. If something bad happened to K, Jade and I would gather in and help Rhonda out. And if something bad happened to me, they would love me best by getting the fuck out of this town and never looking back.”

Noble. How very… noble.

Ellery was having trouble swallowing his anger at how very fucking
noble
that was.

“If I got killed because of a case,” Ellery said thoughtfully, “my mother would mobilize the Department of Justice, the FBI, Homeland Security, and the National Guard. No stone would remain unturned, and several people would be imprisoned or killed before the rain of hell stopped falling.”

“Well, yeah.” Jackson nodded. “Forget about it. One of the kids? Rhonda would be shipped to Canada or something, and J, K, and I would be an assassins’ platoon.”

Ellery couldn’t swallow the anger anymore. Six years they’d been working together. He’d seen Jackson come in looking bruised, banged up, and occasionally bloodied, and he could admit it now: he’d worried.

Jackson Rivers, tomcat, who always seemed to hold his own. Well, tomcats sometimes got run over by semis, and Ellery had held his breath, just praying the semi never came.

The promise was rash, but he had to make it anyway. “I’d do something.”

“Do you even own a gun?” Jackson asked dubiously.

“It wouldn’t matter.” Ellery swallowed and nodded, promising himself too. “I’d do something. I’d call my mother and ask for pointers if I had to—”

Jackson grimaced, as though trying to keep the moment light. “Wow, you really
do
care!”

“I do.” He’d been given an out, but he couldn’t seem to make the moment less intense. “I’d hurt someone,” he said, his chest and throat aching with the tautness of his certainty. “I’d… I’d make them pay.”

Jackson looked away, taking a step forward in line as the next customer finished shipping what looked to be an entire linen closet to her nephew in Michigan. “I have guns at home in the safe,” he said casually. “I’m not afraid to use them.”

“Them?” Oh God. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “Multiple guns?”

Jackson met his eyes for a searing moment. “Do you think there would be enough left of your killer to walk away?”

Ellery smiled, warmed by threats of violence, and then it was his turn at the counter.

Nope. Jackson would leave no prisoners and no wounded if Ellery was harmed. That was Ellery’s tomcat: scars, guns, and claws.

MAIL DONE,
and it was nearly seven o’clock. Ellery checked his e-mail, determined there wasn’t anything he couldn’t work on from Jackson’s kitchen, and headed off down J Street. Instead of making the snaking left at Elvas, though, he kept going to Power Inn and got off on American River Drive.

Jackson looked around at the
Better Homes and Gardens–
style suburbs, clearly uncomfortable. “You live
here
?”

“Yup.” Ellery
loved
his house. It was about the size of Jackson’s duplex, both halves put together—both bedrooms and the living room were vast and spacious. His mother had flown out to decorate, and she had exquisite taste. She also, for all her overbearing nightmare social skills, loved her baby boy.

It looked like a tasteful showplace, with dark burgundy walls, oxblood paneling on the floors and olive throw rugs. Masculine and understated, the furniture all matched—Italian leather in black, with ebony coffee table and end tables, it was all top-of-the-line and comfortable. If Ellery had actually had enough of a social life to have people over, they’d have been suitably impressed.

Hell, his last boyfriend had offered to live in the guest bedroom even after they broke up, but since Ellery suspected Clint had cheated on him in there, he’d declined.

Ellery wanted Jackson to see his house. He didn’t think the elegance would impress him, but maybe the
permanence
would. This was not where you took one-night stands. The bedrooms were too far apart for anyone to hear you if you called out in your dreams—you’d have to sleep in the same bed for comfort.

Ellery
really
wanted them to sleep in the same bed.

With a certain reluctance, Jackson followed him in through the front door.

“You should have just dropped me off at my place,” he said, prowling into the sunken living room and sniffing reluctantly at the potpourri the housekeeper left out. “We both have work to do tonight—”

“And it will be easier if we’re in the same room,” Ellery said cheerfully. “C’mon. I’ll let you pick out my suit for tomorrow.”

Jackson sent him a glare that could have boiled diamonds, and Ellery smiled pleasantly into the face of it.

“Besides,” Ellery continued like that glare had been an actual sentence, “I like your company.”

Jackson gave a short bark of disbelief. “My company could get you
killed
.”

Oh yeah. That. Ellery had managed to forget for an entire fifteen minutes that they’d had a near miss not two hours ago. Apparently Jackson wasn’t going to let him forget for a longer stretch.

“What did Jade say?” he asked soberly, gesturing for Jackson to follow him at the same time.

Jackson sighed and followed, but Ellery could swear he heard a rumble on the way up the stairs. “She said the plates belonged to an SUV that was supposedly junked two years ago after a collision—so they stole them from the trashed vehicle, which is pretty canny, actually, but starting to piss me off. Damn. You really do need more traffic in here, Ellery. It’s pretty swank.”

Ellery preened. “See? Yeah, my mother decorated. I’m not ashamed.”

The comforter was cream and neutral beige, and the bed frame was ebony inlay, like the furniture in the living room. The throw rug under their feet was a plush neutral with burgundy flecks, and the window behind the bed let the sun in during the afternoon but was positioned so you could sleep in a
long time
before it streamed into your eyes like a flaming sword of justice.

Ellery opened his closet, taking satisfaction in the neat row of suits inside, and then he remembered Jackson’s words that morning. “Really? Olive and chocolate?”

“Holy God, you have got more suits in there than I’ve ever worn in my entire life. Have you thought about taking a vacation?”

Ellery lifted a shoulder. He knew he was privileged; he wasn’t going to be embarrassed about it. Much.

“Birthdays and Chanukah, Mother buys me a suit. By the time I’d served my first internship, I’d come to sort of treasure them. I started asking for socks and underwear too.”

“Hunh.”

Ellery was starting to both love and loathe that sound. It usually meant Jackson had assessed yet another way in which they didn’t fit. “Hunh what?”

“Chanukah. That’s one of the few ethnic minorities we
didn’t
see in my high school.”

Ellery turned to him, head cocked. “White people were the minority at your high school,” he pointed out reasonably.

“Ninety percent of our teachers were white,” Jackson said, surprising him. “Our administration was almost entirely white. If K and I got sent up to the principal’s office together, K would get two weeks’ detention and I’d get let off with a warning. Not really the minority when that happens, you know?”

Wow. “I… I never thought of it like that.” Ellery’s private school had been a combination of Jewish, Catholic, and wealthy Middle Eastern students. Yeah, they’d split into factions, but usually their disputes were settled on the debate floor.

“Kaden was
so
behind me becoming a cop.” Jackson’s eyes went blind to the glory of Ellery’s bedroom, and although Ellery couldn’t resent him for it, he could wonder—would he ever measure up? “He wanted somebody in there who wanted to be part of the community. I mean, you’ve got the cops who harass the kids in front of their homes and the cops who play catch with them if the kids’ll let them. We wanted one of
those
cops in the system.”

“What about when you became a PI?”

He had to ask it, even if it made Jackson startle and take stock of his surroundings like he was coming back from a particularly vivid vision.