“And you,” he said, and raised his weapon, a small, snub-nosed 9 mm. Huh, maybe he’d grown some balls in Mexico, Ryan thought.
The gun went off. Ryan tensed expecting to feel pain. Then another shot. And then he realized that it was Black who was falling. Black had missed. And someone else hadn’t.
“You fool,” McShane growled at him. “You baited him into that.” He bent over the man on the ground.
Ryan was shaky. “Black tried to kill me in my car while coming down Pill Hill tonight,” he said. “He was getting more and more desperate.”
He looked out across the small parking lot, and waved off his old loft-mate, a former Marine sniper. The result of one of his calls tonight while he’d sat in a cul-de-sac on Pill Hill and thought things through. The Marine raised his hand above his head and disappeared into the night.
McShane smiled slowly. “Really? Damn it. Now I’ve got all this paperwork to do. Unnecessarily.”
“It’s what they pay you the big bucks for, McShane,” Ryan said, as he slid slowly to a seated position. “I hope Cage gets the cops here before I black out.”
“He called me, not the cops,” McShane said. He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call the cops.”
“And I’ll take him home,” Cage said, pulling Ryan to his feet. He hadn’t even heard him come out.
“Yes, go. That might make this story cleaner, all around. I’ve carried for years. Campus Security has copies of the permits on file. I get death threats — can you believe that? He shot first. And he’s dead. He doesn’t get to rebut it.”
There were sirens headed this way. Ryan leaned on Cage, and obediently walked away with him. “Wait,” he said. “Let’s take my car.” And he handed Cage the keys.
“Damn it, I’m going to have to ride that bus again tonight,” Cage grouched. But he kept his arm firm around Ryan until he was in the passenger side of the car. “Let’s go, before we have to be witnesses.”
“Better call Will,” Ryan mumbled. “Lesson one on being an editor and keeping your newsroom happy. Do not let your star reporter get scooped by the Oregonian on a story you’re involved in.”
“Damn it.” But Cage told Siri to call the newsroom and got Will moving. “And J.J., if he’s up there,” he added. “Some video for the newscast.”
Ryan just leaned his head against the headrest, his eyes closed. He was beat, he thought. But interestingly? No migraine. Huh.
Ryan woke with a 3-year-old cuddled in bed with him. He smiled. Then he remembered the events of the night before, and carefully eased out from under his son. He got dressed quickly and headed down the stairs and found his backpack with its laptop. He booted it up and went to the Eyewitness website and read the story. He relaxed, and then he saw Cage leaning against the kitchen doorway watching him with an amused smile.
“What?” Cage asked and padded over to hand him a cup of coffee. Ryan took it gratefully. “You thought Emily hasn’t learned anything from watching you over the years? Of course the story works. And keeps you out of it. And doesn’t mention ICE. Just a nutcase of a professor with a grudge against the Provost.”
“What are you doing here?” Ryan asked, a bit irritably. Because, yes, he had been worried about getting the spin right. For McShane’s sake. And wasn’t that a surprise? “Didn’t you go home last night?”
“No. Corey was there to give Sarah a ride home, so I stayed out here. You’re headed east this morning, and I figured I’d make sure you got out of here OK.”
Ryan looked at his best friend, who was looking a bit vulnerable. “I’ll be back,” he said. “You know that, right?”
“Won’t be the same,” Cage countered, his hands jammed into his pants. He looked as he always did. Black twill trousers, boots. A gray T-shirt today. Trim beard. Short black hair, no hat? Ah, inside the house, probably his father had rules about that.
“No. Different isn’t necessarily bad, bro,” Ryan said. “What about you? You kickin’ Sarah out any time soon?”
He flinched — and wasn’t that interesting? Ryan thought — and just shook his head. “Emily and I kinda had a fight,” he mumbled.
“When was this? Not last night?” Ryan was startled.
“No, day before, day before J.J....” Cage trailed off. No need to go any farther than that, especially when J.J. was probably still sleeping upstairs.
“She doesn’t seem mad at you.” Ryan observed. “What was it about?” And why are you bringing it up to me now, he thought but didn’t say.
“I kissed her.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “Oh.” Even he’d never kissed her. He didn’t think. Damn his fragmented mind.
“So did Sarah.”
Ryan was trying not to laugh. “At the same time?”
Cage glared at him. “Not funny.”
Ryan got up and put his cup in the sink. He gave his best friend in the world a hug. Cage hesitated and then hugged him back. You’re right, Doc, Ryan thought, I could get good at hugs.
Cage cooked breakfast, and was surprisingly good at it, as his parents came out to the kitchen, followed by J.J. holding the hand of a damp Rafael. Family came in all forms, Ryan thought, as he squatted down to get a good morning hug from his son. He patted J.J. on the shoulder in thanks and got a grin back.
J.J. leaned closer and whispered, “I got the story from Carroll and Turk. You’re close. Sarah kissed her. Cage saw. Then he kissed her. Said to let him know when she decided which kind she liked better. And then it’s Sarah who ends up living with him.”
“J.J.? You gossiping about me, son?” Cage said dangerously. “Because you could be doing stupid little feature pieces for Emily forever.”
“Got it, boss,” J.J. said, laughing.
With everyone pitching in, Ryan and Rafael were on the road by 10 a.m. Amazing given how much
