He prayed every damn day that he never had to do it again.
The bad reviews were annoying, particularly the ones Ian pointed out that were clearly fake. But every business had to deal with bad reviews. They had to be taken with a grain of salt. Sometimes you could do things to improve. And sometimes the person was having a bad day or was just a cranky bitch. Ian had to move forward, hire a reputation management company, and just keep being awesome. The packed reservation list and glowing professional reviews were proof that Rialto and its staff were amazing.
But when combined with the ridiculous ICE raid, Hollis couldn’t deny that his cop senses were tingling. Not that he was ready to admit it to Ian. The phony reports to ICE could have come from the same vindictive bastard that posted the reviews. But instigating a raid was dangerous. Those agents stormed the restaurant with guns drawn. If someone had sneezed in that tense moment, they could have been shot. And what if someone didn’t have their ID that day? In this political atmosphere, they risked being taken, and God only knew when they’d be released.
Maybe the asshole hadn’t expected the tips to be escalated to a violent raid?
Or maybe they had and that was the point.…
Hollis groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was going around in circles and coming up with no new ideas. If this was all a horrible coincidence and amounted to nothing, then Hollis didn’t want to bring his worries up to Ian. He had enough on his mind. Someone threatening his Rialto would send him screaming over the deep end.
“Go ahead, text him,” Shane said.
“What?” Hollis blinked and looked around, trying to get his brain to remember why he was stuck in a van in the cold night air with Shane. That’s right. The stalking case.
“That groan. I’m assuming you’re worried about your sweet chef and fighting the urge to text him.”
Hollis smirked at his companion. He’d told Shane about the ICE raid and the recent negative reviews. So far, Shane was shrugging them off as coincidence and bad luck. And maybe they were due for a little bad luck. Things had certainly been running in their favor recently. It had been months since any of the family had been shot or set on fire. God, Hollis wanted to roll his eyes at that thought alone, but when it came to Lucas, Snow, and Rowe, shootings and fires were kind of par for the course.
Their wedding had even been perfect. Hollis hated to admit that he’d been expecting something horrible to happen, but the worst thing was Daciana Vallois getting fussy during their wedding vows.
“Maybe,” Hollis muttered.
“Text Ian. Then I can text Quinn guilt-free and tell him to get home to feed our cat.”
Hollis snorted but pulled out his phone. With any luck, Ian would be fast asleep and wouldn’t answer.
It’s colder than hell in this stupid van.
He wanted Ian to be sleeping, but there was no denying that his heart picked up a little when he saw those three dots appear just seconds after the text was sent, indicating that Ian was replying.
I’m lying across the entire bed, heating it up for you.
Hollis huffed a soft laugh. He didn’t believe that for a second. When Ian started out at night, he was curled up in a little ball on his side. But he was a restless sleeper even when he wasn’t having nightmares. His husband usually spent a good chunk of the night plastered across Hollis while he was asleep.
Naked?
Guess you’ll have to come home to find out.
Hollis tucked his phone into his pocket and looked over at Shane to find his friend smirking at him.
Shane set his phone on the dashboard. “Feel better?”
“I’ve moved from worried to physically frustrated.”
Shane grunted. “They’re all teases. Quinn sent an almost dick pic to prove he wasn’t at the office.”
“What’s an ‘almost dick pic’?”
“A fresh from the shower pic that gets a hint of pubic hair and tease of the root, but nothing else.”
Hollis had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep his laughter from ringing out in the van. They’d been on surveillance for the past three hours. No reason to blow their cover by being careless.
And yes, he was grateful that Ian wasn’t in a mean mood. His man knew all the ways to push his buttons and did it on more than one occasion to get what he wanted. Hollis fucking loved it, too. Loved Ian’s sexual confidence. But he definitely hated when he was stuck in a van and couldn’t put his hands on his lovely husband.
“We’ve got movement,” Shane announced, his voice turning serious. He handed over his binoculars to Hollis and pointed with his free hand. As soon as Hollis accepted them, Shane grabbed the camera to start snapping pictures.