Hard to Hold on To by Laura Kaye

with a red-hot rage. Little as she was, they could’ve easily overdosed her. And from what Easy understood, Bruno fucking knew she was on meds, so he would’ve had to know there could be drug-interaction implications and not cared. Christ, they could’ve killed her.
    And then he would’ve never seen her again, never held her, never received her kiss. Damn, it might be twelve kinds of wrong, but he wanted all of that. He wanted more.
    Blowing out a breath, Easy stretched his neck. No sense in getting himself all spun up before he went back upstairs.
    Another thought popped into mind—thankfully, this one wasn’t at all angsty. The milk shake she’d fantasized about having. Not bland, but if even a small taste made her happy, it would be worth it.
    Opening the freezer, Easy smiled. God bless the Rixeys’ ice-cream addiction. There were so many containers, it seemed entirely plausible that they’d robbed an ice-cream delivery truck. He sorted through the tubs until he found a container of chocolate.
    Bingo.
    Next, he grabbed the milk from the fridge. And then he opened a bunch of cabinets until he found a blender at the back of one of them. The layer of dust on its surfaces told of how long it had gone unused. He rinsed and wiped it off, then brought the detachable pitcher to the other counter, where the ice cream lay waiting.
    Shane’s expression was two seconds away from amused.
    “Not a word, McCallan.”
    He held up his hands and shook his head, but he couldn’t hold back the smile. Fucker.
    Scoop, scoop, scoop, milk. Lid on, Easy placed the container on the blender and hit mix. Two minutes later, he had something approximating a very thick milk shake. He spooned it into a glass, then gathered the bagel and soup. Next he built his sandwich, sneaking pieces of beef and cheese as he worked.
    “Damn, that looks good,” Shane said, pushing off the stool and grabbing a plate for himself. “Think I’ll make some food for me and Sara, too.”
    Easy suddenly felt less self-conscious with Shane making food for his woman, too.
    Whoa. He froze with a piece of rye bread in his hand. Jenna was not his woman.
    But maybe she could be.
    Slapping the bread on top of the lettuce, Easy’s thoughts spun—he came up with lots of reasons why it probably wasn’t a good idea, but that didn’t make him want to consider it any less. He sighed as he cleaned up his mess.
    Mid-sandwich-making, Shane spoke in low, even tones. “We don’t have to do that thing where I tell you to handle Jenna with care if you’re thinking of starting something with her, do we?”
    For. Fuck. Sake.
    Not that Easy was particularly surprised by the question. Hadn’t he been half expecting it? And, his brain noted with interest, it wasn’t a warning off.
    “Nope.”
    “I didn’t think so,” Shane said in that same casual, even tone. “I see how protective you are of her, Easy, and I’m glad for that. I know you’ll treat her right. But you should know that her birthday’s next week.”
    Easy’s gaze flashed to Shane’s. “And this is relevant how?”
    “She’ll be twenty.”
    Easy had to grab the counter. “Say again?”
    Twenty? Jesus, he’d known he was older, but he had a full decade on her .
    “You heard me.” Shane sucked a bit of mustard off his finger. “Sara’s only twenty-three, so I’m not saying a thing about it, except handle with care.”
    Nodding, Easy concentrated on making the floor stand still under his feet. Twenty. He blew out a long breath. “I like her, Shane,” he finally said, echoing the conversation he and Shane had had a few nights ago about Shane’s growing feelings for Sara. And, well, hi, how ya doin’, Mr. Hypocrite , Easy had told Shane he had to come clean with the team. Despite the fact that Easy hadn’t done so himself. Still.
    “Yeah,” Shane said, clapping him on the back of the neck and squeezing. “I know.”
    Twenty. Wow.
    Staring at the plates and cups he had to take upstairs, Easy