Page 15 of Snowbirds
Well, shit.
That was going to be an issue. Maybe.
The growl of motorcycle engines roaring to life urged Chris to hurry the fuck up. Ivan had his shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt on first and bolted from the bedroom with Chris close behind. By the time they reached the front door and threw it open, the bikes were gone, the roar of their engines fading quickly as the vehicles raced away.
The neighborhood was eerily quiet. A few interior lights were on, but that was it. Chris had expected open doors and curious citizens, but everyone had remained inside.
“Did we have an aural hallucination?” Ivan asked. “Were we the only ones to hear anything?” He was shoving his feet into a pair of sandals.
Chris shrugged. “Maybe everyone takes their hearing aids out at night?”
“Come on.”
Ivan was already jogging across the front yard toward the Taurus while Chris scrounged up both of his flip-flops, fervently wishing there was less jogging and more coffee.
As he pulled Frank’s front door shut behind himself, Chris asked, “Where are we going anyway?” It was o’dark thirty in themiddle of the night, not a time he was intimately familiar with these days.
“Trying to find out what happened,” Ivan said. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” repeated Chris.
SEVEN
Ivan
Knowing Chris was right behind him, Ivan wrenched open the driver’s side door and jammed himself behind the wheel, turning the ignition as he did so. Blue started right up—as always—quiet as a cat. Before Chris could clip his seat belt, Ivan was pulling away from the curb.
“Jesus Christ, Ivan, I’d like to live through the night.”
Like always, Ivan planned to drive recklessly, take corners too fast. “Let’s do some crimes, Let’s get sushi and not pay, thank you very much, Repo Man,” he muttered. He’d do about anything to hear Chris growl his name.
“What? Are you still drunk, Morrison?” Chris demanded.
Ivan smirked and pressed his foot against the gas pedal. He wanted to hear his name from Chris’s lips all the time. Every day. Forever. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chris grab for the panic strap. Fine.
“Braking now.” Ivan risked another glance at Chris. “Don’t worry, I have plans and they don’t include the emergency room. But first, let’s figure out where those hogs went.”
His plans for Chris were morehopesthan anything else, but the hope was stronger than it had been when he’d arrived.
“And just how are we going to do that? They’re nowhere in sight.”
“Let’s drive around a bit, maybe we’ll run across some unlawful behavior. With luck, they will be in the middle of it. Who shoots off weapons in the middle of a mobile home park?”
“Probably lots of people. Do not run over anyone here—that is a direct order.”
“As if,” Ivan scoffed, his attention back on the street in front of him. “When have I ever?”
“I’m serious, Ivan. We’re not on the job, and killing senior citizens is frowned upon.”
“Most of them are asleep in front of their TVs. We’ll just drive through the hood for a look-see.”
He was going for reassuring but damn, it didn’t seem to be working. Chris Hatch was wound a tad tight some days. Most days. He needed to loosen up a bit, and Ivan was the man for the job.
“We are not here in an official capacity, please remember that. We are regular citizens.”
“Yes, boss,” Ivan snarked.
“You know,” Chris said thoughtfully, seeming to ignore the boss comment, “when you called the other day, I was mildly entertained by a senior motorcycle gang that stopped at the house sort of kitty-corner from Frank’s place. The shots were close by, let’s head that way.”
