“You also don’t strike me as someone who suffers from self-doubt. Cut the crap, Holly, and tell me what’s holding you back.”
Hollis threw him a glance. “You’re right. I’m not the type to listen to what you called ‘good advice’ and I don’t usually hesitate to go after what I want. And I do. Want him. He’s so damned gorgeous, he takes away my breath. But he’s also…kind of fancy. And sweet. I’m not used to sweet and I honestly feel a little like a bull in a china shop around him.”
“Don’t let that sweetness fool you. He’s tough.”
“I can tell. But I’m a big guy and for some reason, he has three other big men hovering around him like he’s something fragile. There’s a story there. And before you say anything, no I don’t want to hear it from you or anyone other than Ian. If he ever wants to share. But now that I know he was somehow involved with…Jagger—” He cursed, his cheeks flushing with obvious anger.
Snow didn’t say anything. Jagger’s activities were no secret and the only reason he wasn’t in prison was he had fantastic security hiding most of his activities, and the best lawyers money could corrupt on his payroll. He stared at the cop and felt a sort of grudging respect for him. He paid attention and he cared. A lot.
That was something they shared in common.
He turned away, watched the passing homes with their tiny, brown front yards and sagging chain link fences. The auto body shop was up on the west side in an older, blue-collar neighborhood that had struggled through the recession. More than a few had their windows boarded up and foreclosure notices. Cincinnati had lost several manufacturing plants in the past few years and these people were still looking for a way to make ends meet.
The silence felt thick, nearly as thick as the smell of stale French fries. He knew he should let the man know it was okay for him to ask Ian out. He did want his friend to be happy and for some reason his yeah, kind of fancy friend, liked this raggedy-edged detective. Snow sighed.
“You should ask him out. It might help take his mind off the fact that he lived and Melissa didn’t.” Even just saying that aloud caused Snow to rub his chest. If he found Gratton, it would take everything he had not to beat his face all the way in this time.
“There’s the place,” Hollis murmured as he squinted through the snow hampering their view.
“Fuck,” Snow growled when they pulled up to the place. This wasn’t a rinky-dink hole-in-the-wall body shop. The place had doors for at least four bays and there was a massive fenced off parking lot filled with an assortment of cars, trucks, and vans. The truck wasn’t sitting out front in the open like Snow had been hoping.
Hollis swore beside him, shifting in his seat one way and then another, trying to see as many of the vehicles in the lot as possible. “Damn it, Frost. I don’t see it and without probable cause, I’m not going to get a warrant to go mucking around in there.”
A wicked grin slid across Snow’s lips as he looked at the detective. “What the hell do we need a warrant for? My car was dropped off here and I’ve got to get my badge out of it for work. You’re just a friend giving me a ride and helping me find my car.”
Hollis closed his eyes and sighed heavily, but Snow could see the answering smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And if we should just happen to see a truck that matches the one we’re looking for…”
“Well, that’s just luck, wouldn’t you say?”
“Fuck, Frost. I can see you’re going to get me fired eventually.”
Chuckling and shaking his head, Snow pulled a black wool hat out of his pocket. He’d shoved this one in his coat this morning since Ian still had the one he usually kept there. Climbing out of the car, Snow led the way to the office. The cramped, dingy area smelled strongly of motor oil, exhaust fumes, and burned coffee. There were two heavily worn seats patched with silver duct tape and a small table covered in ratty magazines that looked to be years old.
A young man with several days’ growth on his cheeks and blood-shot eyes lounged behind a counter, typing slowly on a computer that looked as if it were at least two decades old. Even from across the room, Snow could smell the pot fumes wafting from his clothes.
Slumping his shoulders and slowing his gait, Snow walked up to the counter, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, while Hollis remained just a step behind him. “Hey man, can you help me out?”