Fish Out of Water (27 page)

“Why
that
car?” Curiosity—so sue him.

“First thing I ever had that was
mine
.”

Oh. “Oh.” Ellery sighed and wondered if he could have a night to write up his homework on Jackson Rivers. It would be great if he had a brief to follow.
Has effectively raised self. Will not appreciate any direction. Lives simply—would rather have security than things. Is not afraid of pain or death. Terrified of losing family.

He could see the notes, scrawled in his own hand, but even as he imagined what such a brief would look like, he loathed the thought of it. A legal brief wouldn’t detail the way Jackson’s skin felt under Ellery’s palms, or the expression of hurt he took such pains to mask. It wouldn’t document the tenderness in his eyes when he looked at an ugly, battered tomcat, or the patience he showed his neighbor with the good heart and the insensitive cultural vocabulary.

A legal brief wouldn’t show the manic joy he wielded when confronting an enemy, or the rush of adrenaline that drove him as they eluded a pursuer.

There was a lot of Jackson that couldn’t be taken down on paper, and Ellery couldn’t reduce him to a set of notes.

And there was no reining him in, apparently. He charged down the street, heading for the front of the capitol building on Alhambra, and Ellery had to trot to tag him on the elbow.

“What?”

“Maybe not so much the frontal approach?”

Jackson stared at him. “Isn’t that where visitors go in?”

“Yes, but look around you. There’s extensive grounds. We don’t
have
to run straight into Bridger like on the stairwell. Jesus, Jackson, a teeny bit of stealth?”

Jackson scowled, and pivoted on his heel, then took the first sidewalk he spotted, the one that wound through the rose gardens. Someone was setting up chairs for an event there—a wedding, if Ellery could judge from the crepe paper.

“Nice,” he said randomly, and he returned Jackson’s annoyed glare. “What? I said it was nice!”

Jackson grunted. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

“You don’t like weddings?”

“I’ve only been to one. When Jade gets married, that’ll be two. The kids grow up, maybe four. I’m just not that invested.”

Ellery could keep up with his stride just fine. Keeping up with the way Jackson
thought
made his head hurt. “You don’t think
you’ll
ever be in one?”

“Are you
high
?” Jackson asked, wrinkling his nose.

“No.”

“Have you met me?”

“I do believe we’ve fucked, yes.”

“Then, Counselor, you need to go back and check your notes and see what in my history points to someone who is going to get married. Is it the zillion sex partners? How about the extensive scarring? Or being a needy, whiny little baby in the middle of the night? Maybe the history of being a human target? Oh, right, maybe it’s my fucking
family
! Good God, man, you met my mother not eight hours ago. Use your fucking head. Who in their right mind is going to marry
me
?”

Ellery’s face had gone cold, and he couldn’t seem to find words.

“Jesus fuck,” Jackson muttered, almost to himself. “That’ll be a proposal. ‘Hey, I’m irreparably damaged, and basically I’m a big emotional liability. Good luck with me. How about if I suck the life force right out of you? If you’re lucky, I’ll get shot at work, and maybe this time not sit like a useless lump of fucking flesh for a year.’”

Still muttering, he strode ahead, and Ellery stopped, just stopped, to soak in all of the things about Jackson Rivers that were
not
in the file.

But should have been.

He stared after Jackson, his heart frozen in his chest, before he caught Jackson looking behind him and giving a little sneer when he saw Ellery stunned by his words.

And that’s when his heart started beating again.

Jackson expected it, clearly. Was probably even looking forward to the rejection. Oh hell, he was probably
happy
about it. Ellery walking away would just make his little world exactly like Jackson Rivers ordered things.

Ellery didn’t live to make Jackson Rivers’s life easy.

Better, maybe, but not easy.

With a few strides, he caught up to Jackson, shoulder-bumping him
hard
so he’d slow down.

“
What
?” Jackson demanded as they rounded the corner to the northeast entrance. “What was that for?”

“For trying to scare me off.”

“I wasn’t trying
shit
,” Jackson snarled. “You can’t expect anything more from me, can you? You said it yourself. I’m an alley cat—”

“I said a tomcat—”

“About the only thing I’m good for is picking through the trash and banging German shepherds. Walk the fuck away.”

Irrationally, Ellery remembered Billy Bob sprawled on top of him that first morning, cuddling up to Jackson in bed when Jackson had been too out of his head to even know he was there.

“You fucking asshole. It’s one thing to try to shove me away, but Jesus, give your cat more credit!”

Jackson paused halfway up the stairs and leveled him a look of such outrage he was practically cross-eyed with it. “My cat?” he stammered.

“I love that fucking cat,” Ellery snarled. He came to the great doors and stood, waiting. “Now hurry—I have no idea what the hours are, or if our guy is still working or not.”

Oh, he was working. They checked in with reception first and were directed up the elevator to the office floors. Ellery wasn’t sure what Jackson thought, but for
him
it was always such an amazing thing to transition from the decorative museum-quality lower floor of the capitol building up to the purely functional office floors. He always thought it was a solid reminder that the people who wielded the most power were supposed to be the ones working hardest for it; he couldn’t remember when the thought of graft or corruption had made him realize that sometimes it was exactly the opposite.

Shoulder to shoulder, the two of them strode down the corridor, keeping an eye on the placards on the doors until they found the one for G. Hallenbeck. Ellery made eye contact with Jackson as Jackson held the door for him, and he nodded.

Ellery was doing all the talking.

The receptionist was a surprisingly young woman, blonde, pretty, plump, with a picture of her smiling husband and pouting toddler on her desk. Ellery put on what he hoped was his best smile and was sort of depressed when she recoiled and eyed him suspiciously, like a housecat would eye a predator.

“Hello,” he said, suddenly tongue-tied. “We, uh… we’re looking for a Mr. Bill Chisholm—”

“He’s real busy right now,” she said, voice glacial.

“This is, unfortunately, important,” Ellery said, matching her ice for ice.

“He’s seeing a friend of his.” She scowled, the implication being, of course, that Ellery would not ever be a friend of Bill Chisholm’s.

“This could be very important to Mr. Chisholm,” Ellery said and tried again for a charming smile.

Apparently he succeeded in the sort of smile that a snake would give a kitten.

Helplessly, he turned to Jackson with panic in his eyes.

And Jackson’s own eyes went to half-mast. He thrust his hips out and slunk to her desk with enough testosterone in his swagger to make hair follicles abandon ship for miles. Oh dear God, Ellery remembered that smile on his face when they were in bed, and his groin ached—actually
ached—
while he watched Jackson turn sex appeal on like a faucet.

“Ms. Cochrane—Gloria,” he said, dropping his eyes to her name placard. “I’m sorry. I know my partner here is a little scary. He is, in fact, a very good lawyer, and we’re really worried about Mr. Chisholm’s daughter. We were hoping he could give us some clues as to her whereabouts.”

Gloria pressed her hand to her chest. “Oh, you know about Luanne? Why, the poor thing ran away a couple of months ago—she dropped out of college and her daddy got mad, and I guess they had a row. He’s been frantic about finding her. That’s who he’s talking to right now, a policeman friend of his. Mr. Bridger said he didn’t have any news, but Mr. Chisholm, he wanted to make sure.”

Fuck.

Ellery and Jackson met eyes for a moment, and Ellery shook his head. No. No, they were not ready for this confrontation. He wouldn’t take Chisholm to court with what they had—a hunch, a photo, and a dead body—and he wouldn’t give an ADA this information yet in case that might tip his hand.

Jackson nodded and turned back to Gloria. “Hon, Mr. Bridger really does need his attention right now. Could you maybe pencil us in for Monday?”

“Yessir,” she said, nodding. “That’s really considerate of you. Can you and—”

“Make the appointment for Ellery Cramer, an attorney for Pfeist, Langdon, Harrelson & Cooper. I may or may not tag along.”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed. “I hope you two can find something on his daughter—he’s absolutely distraught.”

Jackson nodded, and for a moment both of them listened to the hum of voices coming from the closed office door behind Gloria. The conversation sounded intense but not finished.

“Ma’am, there is something you could help us with. We don’t want to get Mr. Chisholm too excited in case this doesn’t pan out, but you wouldn’t happen to have a coffee cup or a napkin or something? We’d love to be able to produce something solid for him along the lines of DNA and evidence if we have to bother him.”

Ellery tried not to roll his eyes. Yeah, it would be great to confirm it really was Chisholm’s daughter, but Jesus, who was going to believe
that
pile of—

“Oh, yes!” she said, nodding like it made perfect sense. She reached into what must have been a trash can at her feet and, using a Kleenex, pulled out a Dr Pepper can. “This has to be his,” she said, smiling fondly. “He’s the only one in the office who drinks them. Says they taste better than coffee.”

Jackson dimpled at her. “You are an angel,” he said sincerely. “And so helpful. I do hope I can make it in with my friend here, Ms. Gloria. It would be a pleasure to talk with you again.”

THEY EXITED
casually and then strode down the halls like they owned them. By the time they hit the great doors at the northeast entrance, they were both hustling like bats out of hell, and Jackson did not
need to be told twice that they needed to wend their way through topiaries and rosebushes in an effort not to stand out.

Ellery knew
he
was holding his breath until they reached the car in the parking garage, but he hadn’t been sure
Jackson
was until he turned on the ignition, backed the car out, and began to ease it through the garage.

“Oh my—”

“Sh!” Jackson hissed. “I don’t want to fucking jinx it.”

They didn’t talk again until they got to J Street.

“Back to the hospital?” Ellery asked, and Jackson nodded.

“I can make this run. I’ll drop you off at my place and you can drive home.”

Ellery fought the temptation to bang his head against the dashboard. “No, no—stop by my place after the hospital and I can get another change of clothes.”

“Impose much?” Jackson muttered, but he didn’t look annoyed when he said it. Ellery took that as a sign.

“Only when I’m wanted,” he said, keeping the words casual.

Jackson cut his eyes sideways and then looked back at the road.

And sighed.

“I want you,” he admitted grudgingly. “Wish I didn’t. Do.”

Ellery took his life in both hands and brushed up against Jackson’s knee. “Foolish wish,” he said softly. “We have such a short time on the planet, Jackson. Why waste it wishing you didn’t want something that’s good for you?”

“Why waste your time wanting
anything
to do with me?” Jackson countered bitterly. “It’s like you’re breaking the rules of the space-time continuum or something.”

“Someday I’ll explain it to you,” Ellery said, crossing his eyes at the thought. “When I’m sure you’ll use your powers for good.”

“Moron.”

“Tomcat.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“You’ll shut up when you’re sucking my di—”

“And only then.” Ellery was looking forward to it more and more with every barb. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry again. Do you want to eat? Maybe someplace with salad this time? And tables?”

“After the hospital,” Jackson said grimly. “I would really like to have this DNA sample by Monday.”

“Can you get it that quickly?”

Unlike in the television shows, DNA testing often took months for results.

“Toe Tag knows a guy,” Jackson told him. “And IDing a DB takes priority. I think we could make it happen.”

Ellery nodded, liking that very much. “Yes. I have the feeling that saying ‘We know where your daughter is’ will have a lot more weight than ‘Come look at this picture for us.’”

They both sobered.

“God,” Jackson said after a moment. “I’m not sure how dirty this guy is or how bad a man he was to get where he is now, but I… I can’t imagine how bad seeing that picture is going to be.”

Ellery hadn’t thought of that. Not yet.

Jackson was a better person than he was. The thought didn’t surprise him as much as it irritated him
. Dammit
,
why did he have to write himself off as lost, or damaged, or… what was it? A useless lump of flesh.

The thought made Ellery nauseous—and enraged him at the same time.

They’d been to the morgue that morning, and Ellery was taken back to those moments with Jade and Kaden in his office, when both of them remembered how Jackson had almost ended up there too.

Scars indeed. They must be some terrible, terrifying scars, because they were hurting Ellery eight years later, and he hadn’t even been there when they’d been inflicted.

“You’ve been quiet.” Jackson’s voice as they pulled up in front of the hospital startled him.

“Thinking,” he replied—yes, quietly.

“What about? The case?” Jackson pulled up to the ambulance bay and put the SUV into Park. “I’ll be back in ten,” he said without waiting for an answer. “If anyone gives you shit, tell them you’re waiting for a pickup.”