School of Fish (Fish Out of Water #6) - Amy Lane Page 0,26

also shot up, or the Tank’s original version blown up. But apparently he still got the gist.

“Nope,” he said, giving Jackson an evil grin. “Not even a little.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “You all suck,” he said. “Just remember, not one of those cars was actually destroyed in a car wreck when I was driving.”

“Yeah, baby,” Jade told him. “That’s the takeaway from all of that.”

Jackson sobered and stood, taking the top sheet of his legal pad and a pen. “Okay. So this one’s complicated, and there’s a lot of angles. We may have to have one of these sit-downs tomorrow. Galen, I know you’ve got your own shit, but—”

“Your Detective Kryzynski is a friend,” he said, nodding. “And we have young people in danger.” He gave a thin smile. “Honestly, this is so much more exciting than corporate takeovers in Miami. I had no idea.”

Jackson nodded, and before Ellery could give a more elaborate thank-you, he said, “’Preciate it,” in that terse, hypermasculine way that seemed to mean more.

“Jackson, a moment, please?” Ellery said, standing. “Galen, Jade, I’ll be right back.”

Galen allowed one of those bland Southern smiles that told Ellery he was fooling nobody, but Ellery didn’t have any other way to do this. He ushered Jackson down the hallway and into his office and closed the door behind him. He didn’t even need to turn around before he felt Jackson’s heat, pushing him into the door.

“I don’t need to say it, do I?” Ellery asked, leaning into Jackson’s body anyway. A little more substantial than he’d felt in June. He’d put on maybe fifteen pounds, maybe even a teeny bit of healthy fat. His color—lightly tanned face, slight pink to his cheeks—was good. But Ellery only had to close his eyes to see the bluish tinge to his lips from eight weeks ago. He only had to feel under Jackson’s shirt to count his many, many scars.

“I like it when you do,” Jackson said softly, kissing the corner of Ellery’s mouth.

Ellery opened his eyes in surprise. “Really?” A year they’d been doing this. A year since Jackson had first hit on Ellery and had then retreated because Ellery wasn’t a one-night stand. A year since Ellery had first held Jackson in bed as he’d screamed through the nightmares that would probably haunt him forever.

A year since Ellery had decided that, whether Jackson knew it or not, Ellery’s job, the thing he’d really been born to do, was to take care of Jackson.

Ellery hadn’t realized how desperate he’d been to know Jackson appreciated that until right now.

“Yeah, really,” Jackson said, kissing the other corner of his mouth. He leaned close enough to whisper in Ellery’s ear, and Ellery splayed his hands across the hard definition of his chest. “Every now and then, knowing you want me to be careful is what gets me home.”

Ellery closed his eyes against the times it almost hadn’t and for a moment opened his heart to the fact that Jackson was here, now, and he was willing to be careful, just for Ellery.

“I want you home tonight,” Ellery said.

“Every night,” Jackson promised. This time, he took Ellery’s mouth for real, and Ellery allowed himself to be soothed, allowed Jackson to convince him that he was strong, that he was capable of making decisions in his own best interest and not kill himself being a hero.

He moaned a little, shaking, and when Jackson wrapped strong arms around his shoulders, they released the kiss, and he rested his head on Jackson’s shoulder.

“Hey, Counselor,” Jackson whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“I saw the blood,” Ellery said roughly, the memory surging of Jackson standing in the breezeway, staring at the EMTs with dazed eyes. “I saw the blood, and… I just….”

“Mm.” Jackson squeezed him tighter, and although Ellery was not a small man, he felt cared for. “I know. I wish I could tell you I wouldn’t trade places with him.”

“Jackson!” Ellery pulled away, alarm in his eyes, but Jackson wouldn’t back down.

“I don’t want people hurt in my place,” Jackson said, unyielding. “I keep playing it in my head. The kid vaulting the railing, me calling that he had a knife. Kryzynski’s not stupid, but the kid had some momentum, and I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t block him, I couldn’t help Sean and… and I hated it. I hated the blood and the way he was afraid and there wasn’t anything I could do.”

He took a deep breath, and Ellery tried to still the hammering of his heart. He