32 Ian
Ian
They duck, the empty drives flying up and around like confetti. Ian pulls at Victor’s waistband, too, yanking him to the ground as the window behind the man with the bat splinters from the bullets, glass flying everywhere.
“What the fuck is happening?” Victor asks them, his voice high with panic.
“Stay down,” Ian says as Heart-Eyes suddenly comes in feetfirst through the shattered window, swinging on a rope.
The brown paper tears aside for him like for a football team at homecoming, and he lands his feet squarely in the chest of the guy with the baseball bat.
He slams him to the ground with a heavy thud and grins, pointing a gun at the last thug.
What’s happening is the plan. The touch of drama was Ian’s idea.
The fake confusion, all that. Ollie was the one with the grand plan, of getting everyone together and causing this chaos.
Nicole came up with the multiple-drives idea to keep them safe.
But Ian knew how to make it a spectacle enough to get everyone off guard.
And “blue dot”—Brandon’s idea, like a “special tattoo,” he said—was the code word for Heart-Eyes.
Ellen has ducked to the ground like the rest of them, but she’s focused on Nicole, glaring with a mixture of annoyance and…pride? She seems fucked-up, Ian decides.
“So I guess I could shoot you,” Heart-Eyes says to the guy with the gun. “Or you could shoot me. Think you’re faster?”
“Who the fuck are you?” the thug asks.
“The original buyer of the drive,” Heart-Eyes says. “Or at least a representative of them.”
“You called KBA?” Ellen shouts at Nicole, incredulous. “I thought you were smart! These people are dangerous.”
“Oh relax,” Heart-Eyes says to her, eyes still on the thug. “I have a deal with them, and I wouldn’t betray anyone as good-looking at Ian over there.” He briefly turns to wink at Ian.
Ian looks away, blushing, and meets eyes with Victor, who is wide-eyed.
“You didn’t,” he hisses.
“No,” Ian hisses back. “Not that it’s your business. He’s just flirty.”
“Only with you, beautiful,” Heart-Eyes says. “And Victor, is it? I’m saving your friend here, so be nice.”
“My ex,” Victor says.
“Ah,” Heart-Eyes says. “I see it.”
“Can we not?” Ian shouts. Where’s the final piece of this?
They know they texted him. They glance back at the door but just see their friends all huddled and hiding—Brandon is trying to scoot behind an empty weight rack that casts thick lines over him like bars; Nicole is on her belly, face-to-face with Ellen; and Ollie has managed to get himself around the corner.
“Just shoot him!” Ellen shouts at the thug.
The thug fires. For a moment Ian’s throat constricts as they see the flare from the gun and think of Heart-Eyes getting shot. If he’s down, this plan might not work.
But Heart-Eyes dances out of the way, more elegant than a man of his size has a right to be. He grabs his side, where there’s a bloodred slash, but he stays standing, an almost-feral smile on his face. He raises his own gun to fire back, and Ian closes their eyes.
And then hears footsteps behind them. They open their eyes to see everyone staring behind them, at the door, where a handful of U.S. marshals are running in, led by Victor’s partner, Willis. They all have guns, and they’re all pointed at Heart-Eyes and the thug.
“U.S. marshals,” Willis announces to the room.
“The cavalry is here.” Willis pulls Victor up off the ground and hands him a gun.
Ian doesn’t get up though. Now it’s just a room filled with people pointing guns at each other.
That doesn’t seem especially safe. Around them, all their friends stay down, too.
Willis turns back to the room. “Why doesn’t everyone put the guns down and peacefully surrender so we can work this out without any additional violence? ”
“Who called them?” Ellen asks, voice wavering a little.
“Kidnapping a marshal is a big deal,” Nicole says.
Ellen narrows her eyes. “A marshal? Really? Those aren’t friends in costumes or something?”
“No,” Willis says simply, holding out a badge with his free hand.
Ellen’s face shifts. “Well, thank goodness,” she says, crawling over to Nicole. “Such smart thinking.”
Nicole snorts.
“Beautiful,” Heart-Eyes calls, eyes on the marshals, “is the drive even here?”
“No,” Ian calls back. Then, feeling weirdly guilty: “Sorry.” Why are they apologizing? That man is a literal killer.
Heart-Eyes turns and grins at Ian and winks again. He has one scratch on his cheek from the shattered glass he flew through, but it just adds to how hot he looks, a little sweaty, but standing calmly as though none of this is bothering him. “Ah, don’t worry about it. You win some, you lose some.”
Ian swallows, much calmer about this than they expected they would be. The plan was that the marshals take everyone in now, but instead everyone seems frozen.
“Seems we’re caught in an odd situation,” Heart-Eyes says, looking around the room.
It’s another standoff, Ian realizes. They hope there won’t be more shooting.
“And with little opportunity to benefit in the way my employer hoped. So I hope you’ll all excuse me.
” He nods at Willis and the thug, then smiles at Ian, and—again, faster than he has any right to be—spins and leaps out the window.
The thug fires after him. One of the marshals responds by firing at the thug, who drops like the contents of a wet paper bag.
The room suddenly feels quiet. There’s a haze from the guns, and the smell of sweat and industrial cleaner mingles with the sulfuric smell of gunpowder. Cold wind rushes into the room through the broken window, making Ian shiver.
Then they hear the sound of footsteps outside the building, running away. Victor dashes to the window and looks out, gun ready, but turns back and shakes his head.
“Well,” Willis says, “this is quite a mess.” He directs the other marshals to start taking photos, to bandage Connor’s hand and call for an ambulance.
Nicole stands, and Ian and the others follow her lead.
“Thanks for calling,” Willis says, shaking Ian’s hand. “We’ll need a statement.”
Ian glances at Victor, who is staring at them with an expression Ian doesn’t recognize. Victor’s eyes water, and he looks away. Ian looks back at Willis. “Can we do that later? This was, y’know, a lot.”
Willis laughs. “Sure.” He turns to the rest of them. “All five of you, we can get your statements later.”
Five? He thinks Ellen is with them, Ian realizes.
“Actually—” Ian starts.
“Thanks,” Nicole interrupts. “I think we all need to get some sleep.”
“Yeah,” Ellen says, eyes wide, looking at all of them. “Sleep.”
A few of the marshals have a stretcher that they load Connor onto, bandaging his hand as they move him out of the room. Ian, his friends, and Ellen follow them, leaving Victor and the others behind.
“Why?” Ellen whispers to Nicole.
Ian gets close; they want to know, too. They desperately hope this isn’t her falling in love now. They see Ollie sidling up on the other side, leaning in to listen with no subtlety.
“Blackmail,” Nicole says with a shrug, turning to look at Ollie and Ian as if asking for their okay.
Ian nods, and so does Ollie, and she turns back to Ellen.
“Plus, that email you sent wouldn’t go down great if you were arrested right after sending it.
So you can keep your job. But you’re making mine a lot easier. ”
“You’re really good,” Ellen says appreciatively. “I’m going to mentor you.”
“Maybe,” Nicole says. “But I’ve been thinking about pro bono work, too.”
Ian snorts a laugh as they wait for the elevator. Brandon gets in with the EMTs and Connor, filling it up, and the others have to wait for the next one.
“Case closed,” Ollie says, sounding happy. “It was fun, right?”
No one answers. A bit of ceiling, maybe hit by a stray bullet, crumbles and falls next to them like snowflakes. No one flinches.
“Ian, wait,” comes Victor’s voice behind them. Ian turns and walks down the hall, meeting Victor halfway. “Thank you,” Victor says softly, reaching out for Ian’s hand. Ian lets him take it. “Especially after what I said to you tonight. That wasn’t kind. You don’t make me feel angry, you—”
“I know,” Ian says. “I get it. I feel it, too.”
“Maybe I was wrong. I ran away from it, but…” Victor leans in for a kiss, and Ian lets themself be kissed, wondering what they’ll feel.
Sad. That’s how they feel. The fire dies, and they remember all the good with Victor and all the bad, and then it washes away with the tide. They pull away. “Bye, Victor.”
“Wait, should we…? I want to see you.”
“I’m not going to let you do to Raphael what you did to me,” Ian says. “You don’t need two angry exes, Victor. You’re not that guy.”
The elevator dings behind them, and they turn and walk into the elevator with Nicole, Ellen, and Ollie.
“That was pretty awesome, huh?” Ollie says.
“I’m just glad we made it out alive,” Nicole says.
“I have blood on my suit,” Ellen says, sounding tired.
“Maybe that’ll inspire you to finally do your dry cleaning,” Nicole says.
Ellen snorts. “Okay, none of this in the office though.”
“We’ll see,” Nicole says.
“We really should start a detective agency,” Ollie says.
“Please stop with that,” Ian says. “It’s genuinely the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”