Free Fair Play (All's Fair Book 2) by Josh Lanyon Page B

of arms and legs.
    The ground was grassy and covered with pine needles, but between Elliot’s reconstructed knee and newly repaired arm, it was a hard landing all the same.
    “
Ouch
. Goddamn it!”
    “Shit!
Elliot?
”
    Tucker sounded so flabbergasted that Elliot sputtered, “Who the hell did you think it was?”
    “Are you okay?” Tucker sat up, looking and sounding genuinely contrite as he tried to pull his fist out of the web of cotton ropes. “Did you hurt yourself?” The contrition—and the fact that he couldn’t free his hand at first—went a ways to disarming Elliot’s exasperation.
    He lifted up, pulled Tucker’s book out and tossed it at him. The paperback bounced off Tucker’s broad chest. “Nice reflexes, Lance. Did you think the Kissing Bandit jumped you?”
    “I wasn’t expecting you,” Tucker muttered.
    “Not sure that makes me feel better.”
    Tucker untangled himself from the web of the hammock and leaned over Elliot, who was still lying supine, maybe enjoying Tucker’s discomfiture a little too much. Yeah, probably.
    Tucker gazed down at him intently. “Why aren’t you getting up?” He frowned. “
Are
you hurt?”
    Elliot could feel his mouth curving into a reluctant smile. He shook his head.
    “I don’t trust that smile,” Tucker said.
    Elliot started to answer, but a yawn caught him off guard, and he laughed instead. “You know you’re tired when pine needles on dirt feels comfortable. I think I’ve had about nine hours of sleep in the last seventy-two.”
    This admission seemed to soften Tucker still further. “I should have come back last night. I was beat, but that was no excuse. I knew you couldn’t be as cool as you sounded.”
    “I could have asked you to come home.”
    “You could have.” Tucker’s smile was twisted. “I’d have had to check your ID when I got here.” He rose and reached down, offering Elliot a hand. Elliot slapped his palm against Tucker’s and accepted help getting to his feet. He brushed off the pine needles sticking to his jeans and shirt.
    “I talked to Seattle PD after I talked to you,” Tucker said as they walked into the house.
    Elliot threw him a surprised look. “You did?”
    “I did, yeah. They interviewed MacAuley this morning. He’s got a rock-solid alibi for yesterday. Furthermore, he’s agreed to cooperate fully with the police and supply a list of email addresses for everyone who subscribes to his blog and who commented on that particular post. According to the cops, he’s cooperating every step of the way. He says he’s absolutely confident none of his supporters were involved in either attack on your father.”
    “He can’t know that for sure.”
    “Agreed. Which is why Seattle PD plans on going through that list name by name.”
    Elliot absorbed this silently. Uppermost was surprise that Tucker had done this for him when he so clearly did not approve of Elliot involving himself in the investigation.
    “Thanks,” he said. It sounded more grudging than he intended.
    They reached the back door and Elliot held it open for Tucker, following him into the cool interior of the house.
    Tucker threw over his shoulder, “Also—don’t shoot the messenger—we’ve had two phone calls from the press since I’ve been home. Not only did they track Roland down, they connected you to the Pioneer Courthouse Square shooting.”
    “
Fuck.
”
    “I know. On the bright side, no one seems to know that the unsub was using a crossbow.”
    “Good.”
    “So far it’s just local media. But...”
    Elliot swore again, more quietly. It wasn’t like he was hiding out on Goose Island, but there had been a lot of unwelcome attention and publicity after the shooting, and he did not want to be in the limelight again. Ever.
    Tucker got a Hale’s Kölsch out of the fridge, removed the cap, and handed it to Elliot. He got a second beer for himself. He took a long swallow and set the bottle on the counter. “Listen, I didn’t mean that
die