Fish on a Bicycle

by Amy Lane

  Then he turned and sprinted for the corner of the warehouse.

  “He’s getting away!” Sampson yelled, and Jackson had a blissful moment to think the bad guy sounded like every cop movie ever before his chest tightened like a rubber band and he had to fight for every breath.

  Breathe Fishy, Breathe

  ELLERY COULD see him, crouching by the side of the car, but mostly he was just a form. The big guy—Cormier? He’d followed Raymond into the warehouse, on the other side of the van, and Ellery and Jade locked eyes.

  They were going to be found, and they were going to be killed, and Jackson would never forgive either of them.

  And then Jackson cut Ellery’s lifespan in half.

  He stood up, banged on the Navigator, and yelled, then turned around and took off for the side of the complex, leaving Ellery and Jade to gape.

  “Do you think he saw us?” Jade asked, but Ellery was too busy trying to run on the slippery concrete in his dress shoes. He slid once, balanced on his fingertips, caught his weight on the van, and still wouldn’t have gotten any traction if Jade hadn’t shoved him from behind.

  In the meantime, Cormier barreled out of the warehouse, with Joey’s cousin nowhere to be seen. Just as Ellery and Jade were getting clear of the sealed concrete, he passed them, unholstering his gun as he ran.

  And then Henry rocketed past both of them, heading for the same corner of the warehouse Jackson had disappeared behind, his tennis shoes having no problem at all on the goddamned floor.

  By the time they got to the outside corner of the warehouse, Ellery was thinking enough to slow down.

  Neither he nor Jade were armed. If they ran into a situation without looking, he could get Jade killed.

  “Wait,” he breathed, grabbing Jade’s arm and hoping she wouldn’t deck him. But Jade was smart, and together they hugged the shady side of the warehouse, peering around the corner to the last scene of a Quentin Tarantino movie.

  Henry was about two feet in front of them, and Robert Sampson had a gun trained on his head.

  “Don’t move,” he muttered. “Jesus, you little pissant. Come out of nowhere on me? For fucking real?”

  Henry slowly raised his hands behind his head and kept his eyes squarely on Jackson and the guy built like a tank in a suit that he was facing.

  Jackson’s face was turned toward Ellery, and he had a look of triumph in his eyes, like he’d accomplished something. His knees were slightly bent, his hands out, as if he was getting ready to move, but his chest was heaving in and out and his face was a waxy grayish color that had Ellery biting his lip so he wouldn’t moan—or nag.

  “You look like shit,” the big guy said. “You sure you’re up to this, or would you rather just roll over and die?”

  Jackson’s face—pale as it was—assumed that “fuck you to the balls” look that Ellery was so familiar with.

  “If I roll over and die, I’m gonna have your throat in my teeth,” he said, giving a feral grin. “You couldn’t beat me on my best day, Cormier. Let’s see if you can get me on my worst.”

  “Back up,” Cormier barked.

  “Why should I? You gonna shoot me, shoot me here!”

  “Couple of feet. It’ll make it last longer.” Cormier gave a wolfish smile, and Jackson’s eyes flicked up, just long enough to see Ellery peering around the corner.

  “Get away!” he mouthed before looking back at Cormier and backing up one step at a time. After about ten feet, Cormier walked forward and very carefully set his gun down between them, then backed up. When he was done, the gun was in the middle, and they were eyeing each other like nobody else existed.

  “See?” Cormier said, like he had something to prove. “I can be smart too. First guy to the gun in the middle wins, and the other guy’s dead.” Ellery ducked back as Cormier gave a quick look over his shoulder. “And so’s his buddy,” he said.

  “You know,” Henry spoke up conversationally, “you could always let me tag in. I mean, you seem to want a fight here, and I gotta say, I’m in better shape than Rivers there.”

  Ellery and Jade met eyes, and she shook her head. “Not gonna work,” she mouthed, but Ellery shrugged. The kid had tried—Ellery gave him full points for it.

  “I took you down four days ago,” Jackson said, like every breath wasn’t costing him. “Don’t forget it.”

  “You bastard.” Henry didn’t sound mad, just resigned.

  “So you still think you can beat me?” Cormier sounded pleased, and Ellery risked a look around the corner.

  They’d each taken a step or two in, both of them had their weight balanced on the balls of their feet, their shoulders loose, their posture screaming Fight! Fight! Fight!

  “Tell me this,” Jackson panted. “What happens if you lose?”

  Cormier shrugged and took another step in. “You threaten me and only shoot if I charge.”

  “You hope.”

  “You coulda killed me when we fought down at Lacey’s compound, Rivers. Don’t fuck with me.”

  “Fine.” Jackson moved in a little, and this time, Cormier didn’t match him. “What happens if I lose?”

  Cormier let out an ugly laugh. “I kill you. I kill your little golden boy. I go after your butt-buddy lawyer guy. I get your receptionist and anyone you guys ever talked to about this case ever.”

  Jackson nodded and moved in just a little again. “So who’s got a better chance to win? The guy with nothing to lose or the guy with everything to lose?”

  Cormier frowned and looked sideways, like he was doing complicated math in his head. “Which one of those guys am I—motherfucker!”

  Ellery’s heart stopped in his chest as Jackson darted in to grab the gun. He made it first, but Cormier was right on top of him, hauling his foot back. Jackson took the kick on the shoulder and tumbled backward, his hands still on the gun, scrambling to get up before Cormier could round on him again.

  In the meantime, Sampson had dropped his weapon, pointing it toward the ground while he waited to see the outcome of the fight, and Ellery took the opportunity to charge him. He knocked Sampson to the ground and kicked him hard in the back. Sampson’s gun skittered across the ground.

  Henry lunged for the gun at the same time Jade jumped on Sampson’s back, putting her knee in the small of it and wrestling one arm behind him. “Hold this!” Henry commanded, handing the gun to Ellery. Ellery stood on the opposite shoulder and pointed the gun at Sampson’s head.

  “Don’t move,” he muttered. “Jade honey, do you want to take the gun or get off his back?”

  “Hand me the gun,” she growled.

  Ellery handed it over without question, and as Henry moved closer to the fight, they all looked to where Cormier and Jackson were struggling for the other gun. Oddly enough, Ellery’s pocket buzzed, but he sure wasn’t going to check his phone now!

  Jackson was still quick and still hit hard.

  Cormier grunted as a chamber kick to the upper thigh landed, and Jackson managed to move his foot before Cormier could grab it. Cormier closed in tighter, though, moving faster than Jackson, and Jackson clocked him across the ear with the gun.

  Blood fountained from his ear, and it stunned Cormier for a minute, but as Jackson danced backward, hopefully to find enough space to actually aim the damned gun and shoot the bastard, Cormier closed in again and backhanded him hard to the ground.

  Jackson went flying into a crumpled heap, the gun falling from his hand.

  Henry rushed around Cormier, obviously trying to neutralize the gun. And from far away, Ellery heard a shout.

  “Everybody get down!”

  Ellery dropped without question, at the same time Henry dove for the gun and Cormier stood, leveling a kick at Jackson’s head that would have snapped his neck.

  Except Cormier’s head exploded, and the world held its breath.

  Henry rolled over to his back, gun in hand, and aimed it at this new threat—which was too far away to see.

  Ellery and Jade just stared,
stunned, as Cormier’s body dropped to the ground, still twitching, the remnants of his skull and brains draining blood into the dusty gravel that surrounded the warehouse.

  Sampson started screaming, and Jade clocked him in the head with the butt of the gun. He went limp, and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

  Ellery’s pocket buzzed again as a thousand police cars turned on their lights and sirens, and Kryzynski screamed, “Everybody drop your weapons!” through a bullhorn.

  Jade and Henry set their weapons down and raised their hands, and Ellery ignored everything else on the planet and ran to Jackson’s side.

  His lips were blue, his face shock white, but he still managed a smile. “That,” he wheezed, “was a surprise.”

  “You look like hell,” Ellery said, his throat swelling. “You couldn’t make it one day without scaring the shit out of me?”

  Jackson gave a tight smile. “My life’s mission is to know you care.”

  “I care. Now do me a favor and don’t give the paramedic guy grief this time. He’s going to think you don’t like him.”

  Jackson nodded, blood streaming from his nose and a split above his eye. “You coming with me this time, Counselor?”

  “They couldn’t rip me away,” he said. He grabbed Jackson’s cold hand, knowing his was shaking but not able to stop it. His phone buzzed in his pocket again, and he was pretty sure he knew who it was, but Jackson’s eyes were closed, and he was clinging so tightly Ellery wasn’t sure the cops could separate them if they had to.

  Kryzynski didn’t even try.

  THEY GAVE him oxygen and nitroglycerin in the ambulance, and then went about setting his nose and irrigating the cut above his eye. All things considered, he looked pretty good when they got to the hospital—but that didn’t stop the doctors from admitting him and running a battery of tests.

  Ellery sat with him, holding his hand and helping him breathe, because now that his heart was beating regularly, the anxiety of being in the hospital really might do him in.

  “You going to nag at me, Counselor?” Jackson asked, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask.

  Ellery looked up from his phone and shook his head. “No,” he said, swallowing hard. “You called me. You told me you felt like crap. We’re good.”

  Jackson’s smile was as pure as a kid’s. “Really? Good?”

  Ellery chuckled brokenly. “I’m giving you points for a good try,” he said. “But when you’re all better, I’m taking points away for skipping your goddamned appointment.”

  “I know now,” Jackson said, closing his eyes. “Can’t let things slide.”

  “No.”

  “Who’s on the phone?”

  Ellery held it up so he could see, and he let out a bark of laughter.

  Get the fuck down! was the first text from Burton’s unregistered number. The second text read, Goddammit, after all that, he’d better live. It was followed by, Don’t mention me, okay?

  The last one was so uncharacteristically needy that even Jackson had a moment to be amused.

  “What did you tell Kryzynski?”

  “I don’t know what happened, Mr. Officer. One minute he was standing there, and the next, he was missing his head.”

  Jackson gaped, and Ellery remembered that moment right before the ambulance doors closed, when Kryzynski had worn that same expression. Jade had been standing next to him, looking anxiously at Jackson, and when she heard what Ellery said, she blinked.

  And then she’d repeated it. “That’s exactly what happened,” she confirmed. “Right, Henry?”

  Henry had been eyeballing the body as the first responders swarmed, the missing half of the head obviously not taken off by a 9mm from forty feet away. “Uh, sure,” he said, eyes darting toward the trees, where the mysterious cry of “Everyone get down!” had come from. “Yup, that’s what happened. Mysterious shot. No warning. Missing a head.”

  He looked toward the trees again, and Jade kicked his ankle.

  Behind them, Sampson made a retching sound as he stood, facing the body, getting cuffed.

  “You’d think that guy would have a stronger stomach,” Henry muttered. “I mean, wasn’t he a doctor?”

  And that’s when the medic had slammed the ambulance doors and Jackson’s living body had become the focus of everybody’s attention.

  “You might want to tell Burton I’ll live,” Jackson rasped now, in the chaotic peace of aftermath.

  “No,” Ellery said, his voice breaking again. “I’m unconvinced.”

  Jackson squeezed his hand tighter. “Oh, come on. I literally had an intervention from God, right?”

  “Yeah, well, God’s spoken to you before, and you’ve refused to listen!” Ellery’s calm was melting. He’d managed calm in the ambulance. He’d done that shit before, right? And he’d meant it. Jackson was forgiven for skipping his appointment, because the truth—the hard truth—was that this could have happened even if he’d gone. He’d been living on borrowed time since November, when he’d been told his murmur might get worse. But the last few days had been stressful, and Jackson… Jackson was just this guy.

  “I’m listening now,” Jackson said. “I’m listening to you falling apart. Come here, Counselor. I need you.”

  And Ellery laid his head on Jackson’s chest and cried.

  JACKSON’S CARDIOLOGIST was unamused at his condition.

  “Wasn’t I supposed to see you last month?” she asked. A tiny, wizened woman with snow-white hair and ebony wrinkles, she took absolutely no bullshit from her patients, which was why Ellery had chosen her in the first place.

  Jackson responded well to terrifying women. Ellery approved.

  “You were,” Jackson wheezed. “My bad. I thought I was fine.”

  Dr. Keller gave Jackson a stern eyeballing from top to bottom. “You look like hell,” she assessed. “Your blood stats are shit. And given your oxygen levels and the way your heart was beating when the paramedics got you, I’d say you were about thirty seconds away from a full-blown heart attack and open-heart surgery on the fly.”

  Jackson gave a weak smile behind the oxygen mask. “Lucky me, you were on time.”

  “Oh no. I am not a believer in luck, Mr. Rivers. Now, don’t get me wrong. You will need to have surgery to correct this murmur. It might not need to be open heart, but we need to clean out some of the scar tissue left behind from your heart attack in November, and we may need a pacemaker as well. I’m going to schedule the surgery in the next few weeks, and by then, you know what you need to make happen?”

  Jackson sighed. “I need to gain ten pounds?”

  “You need to gain ten pounds, and you need to gain it by eating chicken and vegetables and not crap. Your husband tells me you eat like a teenager, but that will kill you. Do you understand me?”

  Ellery stiffened and leveled a quick look to see if Jackson objected, but he didn’t. Ellery had used the word husband to preclude the inevitable discussion of who the next of kin was. But Jackson didn’t twitch. He didn’t even look surprised.

  “I understand,” he said softly.

  “And you need to take your medication. I gave you something mild in November, and I see you’ve renewed the prescription a couple of times. Are you still taking it regularly?”

  “Yes,” Jackson said, surprising Ellery a little. “Every day.”

  “It’s like a present, just for me,” Dr. Keller muttered. “So I’m also giving you nitro, in case you have another episode of shortness of breath, and I’m giving you a multivitamin heavy on the iron so you can shore up your heart while we plan your surgery.” She paused and scowled. “It will stop you up like a wrecked freight train if you don’t take the fish oil I’m prescribing with it and eat the vegetables your husband will serve you, do you understand?”

  Ellery expected some fight, some snark, some self-deprecating excuse to get out of it—but there was none.

  “Understood.”

  “You are too quiet,” Dr. Keller said. “I don’t trust you.
Why are you agreeing so easily? You are the worst patient I’ve ever had.”

  Jackson swallowed and breathed deeply through the oxygen mask before looking at Ellery. “I’ve got everything to lose,” he said after a moment. “I’d like to keep it, if you don’t mind.”

  Dr. Keller’s eyebrows went up. “I’ll believe this miracle when I see you again in two days, and then again two days after that, and then again in a week for surgery prep. In the meantime—” Her voice softened. “In the meantime, I know you don’t like hospitals. I know they make your pulse rate spike, and that’s not helping things. I’m going to cut you loose after your husband gets you your meds. And you are going to figure shit out so you can take care of yourself. Are we clear?”

  Jackson nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.”

  She left, and Jackson turned to Ellery. “You lied,” he said dryly.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ellery lied again.

  “You told that nice woman I was your husband.”

  Ellery looked away. “It made things easier,” he said, using the tone of voice he’d learned at his mother’s knee.

  Jackson tugged at his hand. “Counselor?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind pretending on this one.”

  Ellery searched his face. I want it to be real. “No?”

  “It’s a good dream.”

  Ellery started to relax against him, thinking that maybe he could convince Jackson that someday it didn’t have to be a dream.

  Then Jackson added, “You Machiavellian bastard.”

  Ellery sat up straighter. “Before they operate on you, you need to put me on your insurance papers,” he said. “I don’t want to have to ask Jade for permission to let you live.”

  Jackson chuckled weakly. “Kaden,” he said. “You’d have to ask Kaden—he’s on my paperwork now. Jade might let me die, just for spite.”

  “But—”

  Jackson closed his eyes, obviously ready for the resting portion of his afternoon. “Sure, Ellery. I’ll change it. God forbid you have to ask permission to let me live.”