Fire and Ice (Death and Destruction #10) - Patricia Logan

Prologue

The strong scent of Starbucks was the first thing that hit Thayne’s senses as he stepped out of the bathroom. Steam rolled out after him as he padded out onto hardwood floors wearing a plush navy-blue robe and matching thick bootie socks Jarrett had given him last Christmas. He smiled to himself. Jarrett had gotten up early, taken a run like he’d said he was going to do when they’d fallen into bed last night, and put on a pot of coffee. He hugged himself against the chill in the house and padded down the hardwood floors to the kitchen where his man had created nectar of the gods.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” Jarrett said, turning around to face him as a floorboard squeaked. He flashed a dimpled grin and pointed to Thayne’s favorite midnight-blue mug stamped FEEB in gold lettering. “Coffee?”

“Oh, hell yes,” Thayne said, taking another deep breath. He caught the scent not only of coffee but of the fresh sweat that clung to Jarrett’s body under one of his man’s favorite olive-green T-shirts that had gotten the short end of a pair of scissors. Jarrett had a habit of hacking off the short sleeves on all his indoor fashion once they got old and ratty. He’d once told Thayne that they made for great workout gear but Thayne wasn’t so sure he liked Jarrett showing off so much flesh at the gym. At age forty, they both worked out nearly every day, even more than when they’d first gotten together four years ago when they were barely thirty-six.

Thayne had always been a runner and he went out nearly every morning with Jarrett but for the last week, he’d been battling a cold and had been ordered to bed with a hot drink the last three nights. Of course, it was winter, only ten days before Christmas, and the weather in normally sunny southern California had been rainy and colder than usual. This morning when he woke, sunlight had poured in through the windows but the sight of Jarrett caught him right in the gut, the way it always did. His white hair was wet with sweat as was the T-shirt, and the sweatshorts that he always jogged in showed off long muscled tan legs ending with his running shoes. Everything about his man was stunning and for the millionth time, Thayne counted himself as the luckiest man on earth.

He walked up behind Jarrett and kissed the back of his neck as he poured his coffee, sliding his long arms around his husband’s middle, and tracing the muscles through the wet shirt. Jarrett’s rumbling chuckle vibrated against Thayne’s chest. He loosened his arms, finally letting go so Jarrett could turn back around, holding his steaming mug out to him.

“You’re gonna get all wet with sweat, darlin’,” Jarrett said, hiding his dimpled grin with his own mug as he lifted it and took a swig.

Thayne breathed in the scent of Starbucks, enjoying the fact that for the first time in almost a week, he could smell again. The head cold had been a bitch this year and miraculously hadn’t gotten Jarrett sick even though they slept in each other’s arms every night. He took a sip of coffee, letting his eyelids slide closed at the taste of pure decadence. They both took their coffee black now but that hadn’t always been the case. When they’d first met, Thayne used almond milk or whatever creamer was on hand while Jarrett had always been a great lover of black coffee, something he’d gotten used to while serving his country in the Marine Corps.

“God, that’s so fucking good,” Thayne moaned, ignoring Jarrett’s remark about getting wet with his sweat since he counted it as a bonus, not a problem.

“Feeling better?” Jarrett asked, looking Thayne up and down slowly. He smiled as his gaze reached Thayne’s bootie socks.

Thayne smiled and lifted a hairy leg, flexing his toes inside the sock for Jarrett’s benefit. “I’m not only feeling better but I can actually taste this coffee for the first time in a while.”

Jarrett held his cup close to his chest and leaned over, pecking Thayne on the lips. Thayne felt his stubble brush against his own. It felt amazing.

“Good, darlin’, because I got a message from Megan. She says she needs our help,” Jarrett said.

Thayne frowned. “Megan Harrison?”

Jarrett nodded. “The one and only. She left a message on my cell and says she wants our help.”

“What’s wrong, Jarrett? Is it Tessa?” Thayne felt a surge of trepidation every