Page 6 of Devil and the Deep Blue Fish

ELLERY HADkilled the engine when Jackson stepped onto the steps leading into the darkened garage. He turned the light on and leaned against the washer as the garage door closed and Ellery got his briefcase and coat.

Jackson looked tired, Ellery thought critically, but then, he was often tired. He also looked relaxed, which was nice. Ellery had sent him home with the hopes that maybe some relaxation before bed would help him sleep. The case with the kid defending his mother had been a tough one both emotionally and physically. All Ellery had left was paperwork—maybe the time spent killing aliens with Henry helped with that ever-present coiled spring inside Jackson that just waited for him to fall asleep to release.

And then Jackson smiled, the corners of his green eyes crinkling, the grooves around his mouth deepening, and Ellery realized that the most important thing about him tonight was that he looked happy to seeEllery.

Ellery drew near and put his hand on Jackson’s hip as he leaned in for what he’d planned to be a brief kiss. Jackson, always surprising, took over his mouth, pushing forward, turning, his hands thrusting under Ellery’s suit jacket, the heat of his palms burning through his once-starched shirt. Ellery found himself pressed back against the washing machine, trying not to whimper as he thrust up against Jackson and wanted.

Finally Jackson pulled back, andnowhe looked insufferably pleased with himself, and kiss-mussed, and mischievous, and Ellery’s chest all but ached with love.

“Evening, Counselor,” Jackson said, still preening.

“Hi,” Ellery replied dryly. With a meaningful shimmy he stood up straight and maneuvered away from Jackson’s highly desirable body. “You’re barefoot out here? It’s freezing!” Ellery hadn’t put his coat on because he’d been planning on a brief kiss, but he shivered now.

Jackson chuckled and flexed his toes. “Well, it’s plenty warm inside.” He sobered. “John and Galen are already eating, I hope. They briefed me a little, but I think they were waiting for you.”

Ellery grunted. “John was pretty cagey when he said we needed to talk. How far have you gotten?”

“To the part right after the kid they took in said he was taken from his home to be indoctrinated by the Stepford Dragons,” Jackson said sourly. He shuddered, almost like he was trying to control something inside him. “There’s always somebody out on the streets like that, you know. I remember those people. I mean, different names, different alien shells, but always the same shit. ‘Do what our God says and you’ll be saved, loved, and fed.’” He grimaced like he wanted to spit. “Once, my mom took me there for food and warmth, and after that not even Celia wanted a free ride that much.”

Ellery had to fight to keep his breathing even. Jackson didn’t mention his mother—drug addict, prostitute, user—very often, and the fact that he did now meant he was far, far more disturbed than he let on.

“I would think,” Ellery said carefully, “that a street kid could play the game if they needed to. A lot of money goes to church charities.”

Jackson shot him a glare of barely contained fury—but not the kind personal to Ellery, for which Ellery was grateful. “Remember when we worked for Hamster, Hoozer, Pfinster, and Barfly?” he asked, getting the name of their old law firm terribly wrong on purpose.

“It was last year, Jackson, of course I remember,” Ellery said. He was trying not to shiver, but this was obviously important.

“Lyle Langdon once had me investigate two street kids. They’d been picked up for solicitation and claimed that they were just trying to keep warm. I asked them if they’d been to the shelters, and the boys—and Christ, Ellery, they were barely legal—looked at each other. They were skinny and cleaned up for court. One of them had been to the dentist and had three teeth pulled up front and not replaced. And that kid looked at his boyfriend and said, ‘They wouldn’t let us stay, sir.’ I… God help me, I was surprised. I mean, I’dbeento those shelters. I knew what they wanted. But I’d been a kid then, and gay or straight or bi or trans—it hadn’t really filtered in. And then the other kid said, ‘We’re fags, mister. They don’t let fags in.’” Jackson shook his head like he was trying to shake off the rage.

“Did Langdon take the case?” Ellery asked, trying to catch his breath. So much damage, he thought randomly. They both knew Jackson had so much damage, but it very rarely opened itself up for scrutiny as it was now.

“Yeah,” Jackson said on a sigh. “You know he was good like that.”

Ellery nodded. Lyle Langdon, their former supervising partner at Pfeist, Langdon, Harrelson, and Cooper, had been a good guy—and the one dissenting vote in the firing of Ellery himself, which had resulted in, uhm, the less-than-dignified resignation of Jackson and his sister, Jade.

“He would have,” he said with relief. Sometimes it was good to know your faith hadn’t been misplaced, although Langdon was a businessman. Who knew if he’d defend the Stepford Dragons in a lawsuit if they sent his firm enough money? But then, the group’s anti-LGBTQ stance would have beensupremely distasteful to Langdon and bad optics for the firm itself, so maybe not.

Little bits of faith. They helped.

“I….” Jackson gave an evil chuckle. “I have to admit, Ellery, I’d be really excited to find a reason to go after these people. I’m in the mood to kick a little ass.”

Ellery nodded, although he couldn’t keep the trouble out of his gaze as he took in Jackson’s hollowed eyes, the slow, almost creaky way he was moving.

“Sure you are,” he said soothingly, but Jackson shook his head.

“No, seriously,” he said. “A shot of adrenaline to clear out the pipes—I’ll sleep like a baby, I swear.”

And thatdidmake Ellery laugh.

“Then let the mayhem commence,” he said lightly and gestured for Jackson to lead the way inside.

JOHN HADfinished setting the table, and Ellery excused himself to change and wash up. He yearned a little to put on his pajama pants and a sweatshirt so he could eat at the dinner table with just Jackson and they could catch up on each other’s day. Yes, he’d been the one to show Jackson that a little bit of formality could make a mealtime special, but Jackson had been the one to showhimthat sometimes relaxing with the one person who could read your mind was special all on its own.

Tonight, Ellery contented himself by changing from his suit to khakis and a cardigan, much like Galen was wearing, and he got to the table in time to sit down and start eating. For a moment, there was quiet, and then Galen said, “Ellery, you need to tell him that if he’s going to cook this well, he needs to eat. It’s unseemly thatwehave to naghimabout losing weight when I could eat enough of this soup to not move for a month.”

Jackson chuckled. “Nice compliment, Galen. Do you need some ice for your knuckles after that backhand?”

Galen glowered at him. “Unseemly,” he enunciated. Then he took another bite of soup.

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