Page 28 of Snowbirds
“What the hell, Hatch. You are on vacation, why are you calling?” McBride demanded.
“Let me explain.”
Five minutes later, McBride was still grumbling but less loudly and he’d agreed to reach out to his connections at Fish and Game. With a little luck and planning, the missing Cleevus Buckley would be located and would no longer be in business.
“I can’t even force you to go on vacation without you finding a way to work.”
“It’s a knack,” Chris said. “What can I say?”
“A knack,” McBride repeated. “Well, get off the phone and enjoy the rest of your time off.”
“Over and out.”
Everyone looked expectantly at Chris as he sat back down at the table. Feeling devilish, he turned to his mother. “I’d love some more lemonade. How did Ping-Pong go this morning?”
“Don’t you dare, Christopher Anthony Hatch! You tell us right now what happened on that secret phone call!”
“McBride is on it. He’ll let us—and by us, I mean me—know what he learns from Fish and Game, but he did a quick search and it looks like Buckley is a known problem, so getting a legal warrant won’t be difficult. And with any luck, agents will catch up with him as well. Could be they find out what the gunfire was about too.”
“That is great news,” said Susie. “Does everyone else want more lemonade?”
There was a chorus of yesses and soon enough, everyone’s glasses were full again.
“So,” his mom said, settling back in her seat, “sweetie, what do you and Ivan have planned for the rest of your time here?”
The next morning,Chris still couldn’t wrap his head around randomly hanging out with his parents and the ex-leader of a notorious motorcycle gang. Eventually, they’d finally made their excuses, said goodbye to Gunnar and Tyrone, and escaped back to Frank’s house, leaving Susie and Lance to work on the 1500-piece vintage hummingbird jigsaw puzzle on their own.
To be fair, Ivan hadn’t used the word escape—that was all on Chris. There was just only so much chitchat Chris could stand. And anyway, what did a DEA agent discuss casually with an ex-criminal? Gunnar was older than Chris by almost twenty years, but they’d been on opposite sides of the law for a great deal of Chris’s career. The whole thing made him slightly uncomfortable.
Frank’s air conditioning was humming along in the background, and the house was nice and cool. Back in the bedroom, Chris scraped a towel over his head, drying his hair after a much-needed shower. Ivan was still distractingly naked, sprawled on his front across the mattress as he pored over several guidebooks on the Grand Canyon. It was all very domestic and unreasonably pleasant.
Ivan looked up from his reading and caught Chris’s eyes on him. He smiled.
“What?” Chris asked, instantly suspicious and mildly uncomfortable, as if he’d been caught stealing from a cookie jar.
“You make me happy,” Ivan said. His green eyes sparkled.
“Mmph.” Chris rolled his eyes. Although he had to admit that making Ivan happy was pretty much at the top of his to-do list. A list he hadn’t realized he’d had until recently.
“I make you laugh. Which in turn makes you happy—because endorphins,” Ivan said in a smug tone.
“Fucking endorphins.”
With a chuckle, Ivan rolled over to sit at the edge of the mattress, patting the spot next to him. “Sit down.”
Tossing the damp towel onto the dresser, Chris stepped over to the bed and lowered himself down.
“Fine, you make me laugh,” he admitted. “Yes, I always look forward to seeing you around the office. I’m going to miss that.” After returning to Frank’s last night, Ivan had finally given him all the details about his request to transfer to Radisson’s team in Portland and told him that, unless something came up, the transfer was likely to go through. “Hard to believe I make you happy though.”
“Get used to it. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
Ivan scooted even closer so that there was no space left between them. It had been a day and some change, and Ivan’s body pressed against his was a habit he didn’t plan on givingup. But they had plans, and staying in and engaging in the wild rumpus would mean they might not get to the canyon.
He leaned down, intending to grab his shorts from where he’d carelessly abandoned them on the floor the night before, when someone knocked on the front door.
“Oh my god, it’s my mother. That’s the only person it could be.”
Sure enough, the knocking was followed by Susie’s voice. “Are you lovebirds awake in there? Breakfast is ready at our pad!” His mother’s voice, cheery as it always was. “Ivan, I found some more Chris pictures to show you. But we can save them for when you get back from your trip tonight.”
