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Rowe stood quiet for so long that Ian lifted his head and stepped back so he could clearly see his friend’s face. He looked…speculative.
“You know, I’ve got a few things that I can show you.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Just need another hour or two.”
Ian laughed and groaned at the same time as he shoved away from Rowe. “Tomorrow. I’m already exhausted and sore from you tossing me around. You can beat me up more tomorrow.”
“Come on—”
Whatever Rowe was about to say stopped as Ian’s cell phone chimed, the sharp sound cutting through the room and silencing them both. They froze for a heartbeat. Since going into hiding, Ian had been using a disposable phone Rowe had given him in the hope that it would make him a little harder to find. The only people who had the number to Ian’s phone were his family and James, his business manager at Rialto. No one was supposed to call unless it was an emergency.
Ian hurried over to where he’d placed his phone on the worktable, the pains shooting throughout his body momentarily forgotten. He glanced at the screen to see James’s number flash across. That was…odd. It was early in the day. The lunch rush hadn’t even kicked in yet, and chaos usually didn’t break out until dinner. Swiping the screen, he fully expected to hear that they couldn’t get their hands on a critical ingredient for the planned special that night and needed Ian to come up with a workaround.
What he got was a voice he prayed he’d never have to hear again.
“Did you really think hiding from me would protect you? Protect your friends?” Jagger’s low, rough voice rumbled through the phone, sending a shiver down Ian’s spine.
He clutched the slender piece of plastic with both hands, his wide eyes jumping up to Rowe’s worried face. “What-what did you do to James?”
“Nothing. Just grabbed his phone,” Jagger said with a low chuckle. “Your manager should be the least of your concerns. Particularly when someone’s in the hospital bleeding out as we speak.”
Ian wobbled and clutched the edge of the workbench with his left hand before his knees could completely give out on him. “What did you do?”
“I shot him, Ian,” he announced in a taunting, singsong voice.
“Who?” Ian yelled.
Rowe started to rush to his side when Ian caught the sound of Rowe’s phone ringing over his frantic breathing. Oh God, was that one of their friends calling to tell them who had been shot? Was someone they loved dying right that second and they were miles away? Ian shook his head, motioning for Rowe to get his own phone. He had to know the truth.
“Frost is dying. I nailed him in the chest. Watched the bullet spin him around before he hit the ground, blood flying everything. He’s got to be in incredible pain right now. Assuming he’s not already dead.”
“No! No, I don’t believe you.”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” Jagger’s laugh sliced through him and Ian clenched his eyes shut, pulling his shoulders up as if he could shrink in on himself as protection from a horrid phantom from his past. “But know this isn’t over.”
“You want me dead,” Ian choked out.
“I want you all dead!” Jagger roared. “I will kill that Vallois bastard. I’ll come after Ward. And when there’s no one left of your precious friends, I’ll come after you.”
“You’ll never touch me—”
“You’re nothing! Do you hear me? Nothing! You were nothing when I got you and nothing when I kicked you out of my house! Your friends are going to regret ever setting eyes on you!”
Ian’s knees finally gave out and he dropped to the cold cement, his body violently shaking. “You won’t touch them! I won’t let you touch them!”
Rowe grabbed the phone out of Ian’s hands and shut it off. He dropped down to the floor of the basement and pulled Ian into his strong arms, but the same thought kept endlessly looping through his brain.
“He shot Snow. He shot him. Snow…he shot Snow,” he sobbed in heaving gasps. Tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t lose Snow, couldn’t face a world that didn’t have Snow in it.
“Ian, breathe! I need you to calm down. Snow is alive and fine. I swear, Snow is alive.” Rowe gave Ian a hard shake and the words finally penetrated his panic.
“But Jagger said—”
“Yes, Jagger shot him, but it was just a wound in the arm. He’s already been stitched up and he’s bitching at the staff.”
He blinked several times, staring up at Rowe, whose eyes were suspiciously shiny. Jagger had him convinced that Snow was hovering at death’s door.
“How…?”
“Andrei was with Snow. He caught sight of the gun at the last second. Grabbed Snow and pulled him out of the line of fire. Saved his life.”
Ian took a rough breath and wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Thank God for Andrei,” he murmured.
