Fracture (Unbreakable Bonds 6)

Snow was all too accustomed to working around the police when it came to tracking down the right people behind bad things, but he’d never wanted that for Jude. It was bad enough Jude had gotten dragged into his messes in the past—he didn’t want his lover to see this hands-on approach as the best way to handle bad shit. Why pay fucking taxes to support the police if they weren’t going to rely on them to do their jobs?

The streetlights were brighter than the interior of the bar as he and Jude stepped inside. He waited for his vision to adjust. His shoes stuck to the floor, and he grimaced as he looked around. The scent of beer and at least a couple of unwashed bodies filled the room. A few of the round tables held people, and five men sat on barstools at the bar. The only noise came from the television hanging over the bar, which was tuned to a twenty-four-hour news station. And not one of the decent ones either. Great.

“You remember that one time in Newport?” Jude said in a low voice as he surveyed the room before them.

“You mean our first date?” Snow teased.

Jude looked over at Snow, his eyes narrowed and not an ounce of amusement on his face. That “first date” had been them sneaking into a highly illegal sex club and praying they got out alive again.

“Yeah, I remember,” Snow admitted, barely keeping the laughter from his voice.

It wasn’t a thing he was at all likely to forget, but then Jude had surprised him that night in a big way. And it was the first step to falling so completely in love with him. After three years, Jude was still finding ways to surprise him.

“I’m thinking this feels worse than that place,” Jude muttered.

Snow winced. “I don’t know about worse, but it definitely gives it a run for its money.”

“Then let’s make this quick.”

They settled in at the far end of the bar on wobbly stools. The bartender was a grizzled man with thinning gray hair and a beefy build that was probably a good mix of muscle wrapped in fat. The guy was most likely accustomed to tossing out drunks when necessary, but Snow was also guessing that he probably had a gun within easy reach as well.

Snow ordered two beers and when the man set them down in front of them, Jude held up an image of Jordan on his phone. The picture was solely of the young man. It had been taken two months ago at Thanksgiving. He’d been smiling and laughing and cutting up with the entire family just as he always had.

“Have you seen him in here before?” Jude asked.

“You cops?” the bartender demanded right back.

Snow inwardly cringed as it felt like all the eyes in the bar suddenly snapped over to them. “Nope,” he replied louder than necessary. This didn’t feel like the kind of place where police would have been welcome. He then slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the bar and smiled tightly at the bartender. “Keep the change.”

The bartender snatched up the bill and stuffed it into his pocket with a sniff. “Yeah. He was in here about a week, maybe two weeks ago.”

Well, that was a start at least.

“Was he with anyone?”

“Don’t recall.”

Snow rolled his eyes, but he dug into his pocket and pulled out another hundred that he slapped on the bar. The bartender grabbed it up just as quickly, adding it to its brother in his pocket.

“Yeah, tends to come in with the same guy two or three times a week. They sit and drink, maybe play some cards for a bit.”

“And do you know the guy’s name?” Jude pressed, lowering his voice a bit so they couldn’t be overheard by the other bar patrons. “Is he in the bar now?”

The bartender crossed his arms over his chest and looked over at Snow. He stared right back. The bartender cleared his throat and made a little waving motion with his fingers.

“The bank is closed after this,” Snow snarled. He reached into his pocket one last time and pulled out one more hundred. He slapped it on the bar but kept his fingers on it even as the bartender tried to slide it away. “Just tell me this is going to a kid’s college fund.”

“Braces for my granddaughter,” the older man said without hesitation.

And the scary thing was that Snow actually believed him. That reason he could live with. So, he released the bill.

“Don’t know his name, but he’s at the other end of the bar. Skinny blond.”

The bartender tucked the final hundred in his pocket and moseyed to the middle of the bar and started cleaning some glasses and stacking them with the others as if they’d never spoken.

Snow grabbed his beer and took a long drink, ignoring the revolt of his taste buds. It was cheap domestic, and he wasn’t in the mood for a beer. He missed Lucas’s stupidly expensive whiskey. When this was all finally over and life settled back into its normal routine, he was looking forward to lounging on Lucas’s couch and sipping that whiskey with his old friend while they reminisced over old adventures.