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Ian got down coffee beans and scooped them into a grinder. The blond streaks in the shorter, slender man’s brown hair shone in the bright kitchen. “Are you kidding? I’m thrilled you came here. For once I get to be of help. I’m assuming you didn’t go to the penthouse because of little Daci.”
“Of course. I wish we hadn’t gone there last night now. I had no idea I would be putting her in danger.” Snow frowned. “But I shouldn’t be putting you in danger either. If you’re really okay with our cat being here, Jude and I are getting a hotel if we need to be out another night.”
“You sure as hell aren’t!” Ian put his hands on his hips, a scowl on his cute face. “You guys are always trying to protect me and for once, you came to me for help. Don’t take that away from me now.” Ian turned to transfer the coffee grounds to the pot. “I’m thrilled you’re here and I’m not afraid of whatever it is you’ve gotten yourselves into. You always went to the others for help in the past, so let me have this.”
It wasn’t long before the scent of fresh brewing coffee filled the bright kitchen. Ian bustled about as he got out the ingredients for French toast. Snow sighed, feeling a bit of warmth in his chest for the first time since holding Daciana. And he’d never admit what that did to him and the thoughts that tiny baby had him rethinking.
But here, in the warmth of Ian’s kitchen, Snow felt at peace. Ian had that effect on him and had from the moment he’d first met him many years before. Ian had been in a rough situation against his will and Snow, Lucas, and Rowe had yanked him out of it, then took him in as their own. He didn’t feel fatherly toward the younger man, but his affection went beyond that of a mere friend.
Jude had gone to the hospital to see his brother after catching a couple of hours’ sleep, and Snow hadn’t only because Ian talked him into staying for breakfast. Jude had also promised to make it a short visit before he returned.
It didn’t sit right with him being separated from Jude, though. Not with them obviously now in the sights of whoever had shot Jude’s brother. And now Anthony.
Snow felt bad about that—they truly hadn’t meant to put that guy in danger with their questions, though they had no way of knowing if that had anything to do with them. Far as they knew, Anthony’s time to pay up had run out.
“What’s going on exactly?” Ian drenched a thick piece of bread in his egg mixture and set it on the griddle. The scent of cinnamon, bourbon, and vanilla joined the coffee as he dredged another piece.
Snow’s stomach growled. “You know about Jude’s brother, Jordan?”
Ian nodded. “Rowe and Lucas have kept me filled in. I know he’s in the hospital and that he was beaten.”
“And shot.”
“And let me guess, you and Jude are trying to figure out who did it instead of letting the police handle it.”
“The police are taking care of their side of things, but Jude is determined to figure out what was going on with his brother.” He didn’t plan to tell Ian about the video, not with the young man’s difficult past. But mostly because this was Jude’s story to share should he decide to. “We’ve stumbled into some bad stuff, but we aren’t really any closer to figuring things out than we were the first night. Well, not much anyway. Someone we were questioning got killed last night.”
“So, the bad guys are on to you two?” Ian took the golden toast off the griddle and added another piece.
Hollis came into the kitchen and walked up to Ian to wrap his arms around him and nuzzle his neck. The big guy made Ian look small because he towered over Ian’s five-foot-nine-inch height. Ian turned to lean up into a kiss. “Good morning,” he murmured. “Got time for bourbon French toast?”
“I can grab one on the way out. Smells fantastic.” Hollis turned toward Snow and gave him a pointed frown. “What fresh hell have you brought to my home, Frost?”
“Don’t you dare make him feel unwelcome,” Ian growled as he turned back to his batter. “I want him to feel safe here.”
“And I want you to be safe, so sue me.” Hollis smacked a kiss on top of Ian’s head and grabbed a piece of toast.
“Don’t you want that with the maple syrup?” Ian asked. “I brought home the good stuff from the restaurant.”
“No time. This is good by itself. Nice and crispy.”
Snow watched them interact, remembering a time when he hadn’t wanted the gruff ex-cop anywhere near Ian. He’d been wrong. So wrong. The man was perfect for his friend. Still, he wanted to reassure him that he wouldn’t deliberately bring danger to Ian’s door.
