Chase followed Cole into Evie’s kitchen and waved his hand toward the spread that covered the large bar in the kitchen. “Did you make all of that? Like, seriously, I didn’t think you could even boil water, man.”
Cole grabbed the powdered sugar and carefully sprinkled it over the pancakes. “That shit is insulting."
“You’re cooking. And it looks good. And it’s the most surreal thing I’ve seen in a while.” Chase’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have an apron? Were you wearing an apron right before I came inside? Please tell me it has flowers on it. Or one of those awesome sayings like, ‘Kiss me, I’m the cook.’”
“None of the breakfast is for you. You get to stare at it and not eat a single bite.”
Chase sucked in a deep breath. “That is not cool. Friends don’t do that to friends.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Why are you here this early?”
Chase sobered. “Because I just got some intel that I wanted to pass along to you.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “The next shift of agents arrived, so there are still eyes outside. I’m going to the hotel and crash for a while, but I’ll be back as soon as I recharge.”
“What’s the intel?”
Chase glanced over his shoulder. “She still sleeping?”
“She is.” Evie had looked like an angel in bed. He’d woken up hard and aching for her, and he’d wanted nothing more than to make love to her. Over and over.
But, ah, considering how rough he’d been the night before, he’d decided to try a different tactic with her.
Breakfast. She’d see it and think…Maybe he’s not such a prick. He cooked for me.
Or…not. Cole was still working out the logistics on all that.
“We don’t have concrete evidence just yet, but Eric has his suspicions, and he’s got his contacts digging as much as he can. It’s hard, though, because the incident occurred so many years ago and it happened in another country, so it’s not like we can easily get our hands on the vehicle and have our own team go over the evidence—”
“Wait. Back up.” Cole’s voice was low. Chase had been rambling and had lost him. “Another country?” He straightened. “Are you talking about Evie’s mom and step-dad?” Because he knew their fatal car accident had occurred while they were honeymooning in France.
A grim nod from Chase. “Eric thinks they might not have died in an accident.”
That was definitely new intel.
“Some forensic accounting work turned up the tidbit that her step-father’s company was on the brink of bankruptcy. Oh, sure, it looked healthy enough at first glance, but when our techs dug, they could see through the numbers.” A sigh. “Quint White owed a lot of money to a lot of people, and they were not going to get paid.”
Cole stepped back. “The perp told Harrison that he would have to pay what Quint owed him.”
Another nod from Chase. “That’s what prompted Eric to dig deeper into the step-father’s finances.” He moved closer to Cole—and swiped a piece of bacon. “The family was going to lose everything. Even the penthouse that Harrison still resides in. But then Quint White and Evie’s mother died. Everything changed.”
His stomach knotted. “That’s her bacon. Eat another piece and you’ll lose a finger.”
Chase’s gaze lingered longingly on the bacon.
“How did things change?”
Chase’s gaze rose. “Insurance policy. They both had huge insurance policies. Evie wasn’t legal at the time, and Harrison was the beneficiary. He got everything. And, since then, he’s used that influx of cash to turn around the family fortune.”
Cole heard the bedroom door open. His attention immediately shifted to Evie as she advanced toward them. Her face looked fresh and clean. Her hair swayed loosely around her shoulders. She wore jeans that were old and faded and fit her like a second skin. Her blouse was flowing and a deep emerald. Cute little ballerina flats were on her feet.
She looked good enough to friggin’ eat.
He was suddenly famished.
“I cooked for you,” Cole blurted.
“And he won’t share,” Chase muttered. “What a greedy punk.”
Evie hurried into the kitchen area. Her eyes widened when she saw what waited. “You cooked all of this for me?”
What? Were twelve pancakes—chocolate chip with powdered sugar on top—eight eggs, ten pieces of bacon, and four cinnamon rolls too much? It looked right. “Yes.”
Her face softened. “That’s really sweet of you.”
Chase choked.
Cole cut him a glare. If that bastard was choking on a piece of stolen bacon…
Chase waved his hand in the air and coughed. “She thinks you’re