Red and blue lights washed the street in uneven flashes.
The young operative swallowed. “I’m s…s…sorry, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir.” Frost scowled, yanked his hands through his hair, and turned to stalk away.
Instead, he careened into the slight frame of his husband and had to catch Seth before he toppled backward.
They ended up in a Gone with the Wind clutch—Seth’s back bowed, arms around his neck, while Frost had a firm grip on the guy he was crazy over.
“Are you two going to kiss?”
Frost glared, and Seth laughed as he was swung upright.
“Maybe?” Seth spun around to face Noah at the same time Frost did.
Behind Noah came Mac. The U.S. Marshal had the fugitive in cuffs.
“You got him,” Seth said, turning soothingly to Frost. “See? No harm, no foul.”
“Yeah, yeah. Still—this guy is out,” Frost snarled at the newbie.
The man stammered and looked like he was going to cry.
“He’s kidding,” Seth told him, then elbowed his husband.
“You torturing newbies again?” Noah smirked at Frost.
“So?”
Mac shoved the fugitive into the back of one of the SUVs and walked over, slinging his arm around Noah’s shoulders.
The engine idled rough beneath it all.
“We got him. That’s all that matters.”
“So, once we turn this guy over to the Marshals out here, should we stay and enjoy the city?” Seth asked.
“No,” Frost grumbled.
“Ah, I don’t—” Mac began.
Seth held up a hand. “Shut it. I was talking to Noah.”
“We rarely come this far for a job,” Noah murmured.
“What were you thinking of?” Mac immediately changed his tune, and Frost rolled his eyes. Figures. Mac was head over heels for his husband.
“Dinner and a movie?” Noah grinned at his cousin before slanting a glance at his husband.
“Date night!” Seth clapped his hands and glanced at him.
Frost could do nothing but nod when his husband turned those beautiful eyes on him.
“Date night,” he echoed.
The streets were filling with lookie-loos and gawkers, people filming on their phones.
Phones up. Voices carrying.
