Shiver (Unbreakable Bonds 1)

With his eyes back on the crowd, the horde below grew more scantily clad as the night wore on. The club scene was incredibly predictable and boring normally. As a form of entertainment, it was useless. But he loved it for the money it brought in. And he still felt a fierce sense of pride that he’d been right about the concept here—even when some of his friends insisted a cold club would keep women out.

Skin sliding against skin always brought heat.

He started back for his water when a tall man turned away from the bar, carrying a drink in each hand. Lucas couldn’t clearly see his face, but something about the way his dark suit hugged his broad shoulders and wide chest caught Lucas’s attention. The man deftly weaved through the crowd without spilling his drinks until he reached a woman chatting and laughing with some friends. She accepted the drink without looking up, continuing to talk uninterrupted. Lucas nearly smiled when the man shook his head in irritation and half turned away to take a large gulp of his drink. Looked like he needed the alcohol to get him through the night.

Lucas had an alternative in mind for him.

He waited, impatience coiling in his stomach, willing the man to look up at the second floor overhang. The area was cast in heavy shadows. Lucas knew he was invisible to anyone on the lower floor. He wanted to see the man’s face, hoping it turned out to be as great as that body. It was by sheer luck that a light passed over his face when he finally lifted his eyes. A strong jaw shaped his oval face and almost too large eyes stood out under a dark brow.

Yeah, maybe this one could do something to liven up Lucas’s evening.

Motioning for Candace to join him again, Lucas pointed before signing. “Can you find out who he is?”

She stared at the stranger for several seconds before nodding.

“Just want his name.” Lucas wouldn’t give her a reason. He didn’t really care what she took from his request. A man hadn’t captured his attention in over a month, his focus locked almost completely on work and his newest project. And partially on a woman he’d been seeing—though that relationship had already gone beyond a place he liked. Stephanie had lied one too many times to stay in his good graces. He merely had to find time in his schedule to let her know he was ready to move on.

He narrowed his eyes on those broad shoulders. This one would be a good distraction for a night.

Candace started to step away as if she were intending to begin her quest for the stranger’s identity when she lurched back, her eyes wide and alarmed. Lucas followed her pointing finger and his stomach clenched. Hard.

Snow.

Lucas watched the white-streaked head of his oldest friend as he cut a fierce swath through the crowd. Ashton Frost had started prematurely graying in his early twenties and never bothered coloring it. He didn’t need to. The white made the startling blue of his eyes even sharper, gave his olive skin a sharp contrast. It was why he’d picked up the nickname when they’d been in the service.

Even though the man never uttered a word, people rushed to get out of his way. Snow was a formidable figure, standing well over six feet with broad shoulders that made him like a Mack truck plowing down a pasture of sheep.

The doctor’s grim expression drew Lucas’s gaze. While Snow had never been an outwardly emotional child, he’d grown even more reserved and cold to the world after years in the army and even more years working as a trauma surgeon at the University of Cincinnati Hospital. The man showed little emotion beyond biting, cold indifference—unless pushed. Then, sometimes…came violent rage.

And based on the predatory way he was moving, Lucas was willing to bet that Snow was on the verge of violent rage. Seemed Candace had been around long enough to see it as well.

He took a deep, calming breath—the last before the storm—and turned to Candace, giving her some final instructions to continue to the other two clubs without him. Ever efficient, she took notes and seemed relieved to beat a hasty retreat. He didn’t blame her. Snow could be…well, Snow.

Lucas paused to send one quick text to Rowe.

Snow storm at Shiver.

Slipping his phone in the breast pocket of his tailor-made charcoal suit jacket, Lucas picked up his glass and the bottle of imported water before moving to the enclosed private room at the back of the second floor.

Their mutual friend, Rowe, was one of the few who could make Snow laugh. And it didn’t always require alcohol, though booze helped. Lucas pulled out his favorite bourbon and got glasses ready. Snow and Lucas had met Rowe after Army basic training and the three men had been stuck together ever since. Rowe could be silly and ridiculous, and while usually quick to lose his temper, Snow couldn’t rile him. No matter how hard he tried at times.