School of Fish (Fish Out of Water #6) - Amy Lane Page 0,51

he said before they split.

“Yeah?”

“Be safe.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Get some sleep, Rivers. Aren’t you still on leave?”

And with that he moved off to his vehicle, leaving Jackson and Ellery to continue toward the parking structure.

“Just had to,” Ellery said grimly into the silence.

“Shut up.”

“Couldn’t let me have the bruises, could you?”

“You got the bruises. There was enough to share.”

Ellery snorted. “Thought it would make you look prettier, right?”

“I didn’t do it for attention,” Jackson muttered.

“Sure you didn’t,” Ellery goaded, liking him riled so much better than helpless and hurting.

“Counselor…,” Jackson warned as they entered the close darkness of the structure.

“Jackson Rivers, action hero, can’t stand to not have any—”

Jackson whirled, grabbed Ellery’s hips, and pulled him close into Jackson’s overheated chest, taking his mouth savagely. He thrust his tongue in without apology, swallowing Ellery’s moan as Ellery melted into his arms.

“Any what?” Jackson taunted.

“Wha?” Ellery managed before Jackson kissed him again. Ellery could taste the faint tang of blood, but mostly Jackson, and they’d made love the night before, but that didn’t mean that Ellery didn’t want more of him, and more and more and more.

“You said I couldn’t stand to not have any.” Jackson grinned wickedly, his eyes sparkling in the darkness.

“Any action,” Ellery said breathlessly. “Can’t stand not to have any action.”

Jackson chuckled. “I’ll show you action, Counselor,” he said, and then he kissed Ellery again. The kisses were wonderful, urgent, and God, Ellery never had a day when he didn’t want Jackson Leroy Rivers.

But he could sense the underlying tension, the slight tremor in Jackson’s hands, and when things might have gotten out of hand for two grown men in a parking garage, he pulled back, gentling Jackson, calming him down.

“Shh.” He rested their foreheads together. “Home first. Dinner second. Stress relief third.”

Jackson grunted. “Do you really think I’m only here for the stress relief?”

Ellery suppressed a shiver. “God, I really hope not,” he confessed. “But, you know. Let’s just get away from the hospital.”

Jackson let out a breath. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. He didn’t move, though. “Thanks, Ellery.”

Ellery straightened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jackson turned and started walking to the car, his knowing chuckle echoing through the garage as he went.

Worms and Hooks

“JACKSON, EAT.”

Jackson pushed the sautéed chicken and veggies around on his plate. “I’m not hungry,” he muttered and then gave Ellery an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry,” he said dutifully. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”

Ellery let out a sigh and pulled his fingers through his wet hair. Both of them had gone for a swim after they’d gotten home. It was still thick and wet outside, so they’d come in to the air-conditioning for a late dinner.

It had been nearly ten o’clock when Ellery had shooed him into the shower while he cooked. Jackson was trying to be grateful, but….

“I know you’re not,” Ellery said on a sigh, closing his eyes. “I could go swim another twenty laps myself. God, this case!”

“Why do they have to be so young,” Jackson wondered. It had been haunting him since he’d seen the two case files side by side. “Whatever is going on, whoever we’re dealing with, they’re smart, they’re organized, and my God, they don’t mind using children.” He shuddered. “It was so much easier when the psychopaths were just… you know, psychopaths.”

Ellery shook his head and, for one of the few times in Jackson’s memory, looked bleak and at a loss.

“I…. You know, that’s the one crime I could never defend. My mother told me it was a possibility someone would ask me to do it, and I just… couldn’t.”

“Hamster, Fingerling—”

“Pfeist, Langdon, Harrelson and Cooper knew when I signed on,” Ellery said. He shrugged. “We all had a line. Some people wouldn’t defend drug offenses, some wouldn’t defend weapons offenses. I wouldn’t defend crimes against children.” He shuddered. “You have to see something defensible, I suppose, in order to do your job as a defense attorney. I couldn’t. I just—”

“Couldn’t,” Jackson murmured, taking in Ellery in his “leisure” wear. Tonight it was a pair of linen pajama bottoms and a clean white T-shirt. He’d probably take the bottoms off before coming to bed, but he was remarkably prim about things like clothes and when to wear them and what their function was.

Jackson was in one of the practically transparent pairs of basketball shorts that had survived the great clothing purge of Jackson’s recovery time, and a black Fitz and the Tantrums T-shirt with more holes than lettering. He may