Surviving Ice (Burying Water #4)(101)

“Nothin’! I told you she was gonna be a pain in the ass.” To me, he demands, “Gimme your phone.”

“No.”

He snatches my purse out of my hand and roots around until he’s found it. Rolling down the window, he tosses it out.

“Why the hell did you do that?” I yell.

“So no one can find you.”

My stomach does a complete flip.

“Oh, relax. Here.” He opens a basic flip phone and, pressing Redial, hands it to me.

Sebastian answers on the third ring.

“What is going on?” I can hear an engine in the background. He must be on the road.

“You’re with Bobby? Everything okay?”

I look at Bobby’s hand, at the marks sunk into his fingers. The sensation of biting into his soft flesh is still fresh on my teeth, making my mouth water in disgust. “Yes.”

“Did you ID the guys?”

Do I want to tell him that? Do I trust him? I don’t know.

“Ivy,” he barks. “It’s important that I know. Did you ID them?”

“Yes. They were two ex-Marines that knew Ned’s client.” How the hell is Ned involved with this? Was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Did his gambling debt have anything to do with this after all? There are still far too many unanswered questions.

But I’m focused on one in particular for now. “Who’s Gregory White?”

“An alias.” He didn’t even hesitate.

“Why do you have an alias?”

“I’ll explain later. Stay with Bobby. He’ll take care of you.”

“Fine. But when this is over, you’re telling me everything, and I’m not asking.”

“Okay, Ivy.” There’s resignation in his voice.

The phone goes dead. I close it and hand it back to Bobby, who is shooting daggers at me, a ball of tissue in his fist. “Ned always said you were as f*cking stubborn as a mule.”

“Stop sulking.”

I eye the giant metal warehouselike building ahead and the chain-link fence surrounding the property. The rows of motorcycles along the far side mark this place for what it is. “Seriously?” It took almost an hour to get to their clubhouse, in a remote neighborhood south of San Francisco. They haven’t told me a goddamn thing. Bobby swears he doesn’t know anything.

I think he’s a big fat f*cking liar.

“It’s safe here. Fences, security . . .” Bobby says, pointing out the cameras in the corners.

“To keep the bad guys in?”

He chuckles, like that’s so funny.

A woman’s giggle carries across the parking lot. Probably a hooker. Ned said these guys throw some wild parties. Though tonight it seems pretty quiet.

I spot my kit in Carl’s hand and dive to snatch it out of his grip. “Why do you have this?”

“It was at Dakota’s. I swung by to pick it up,” Bobby answers with a smile.

“Why?” I already know exactly why.

Moe steps in behind me, settling a hand on my back. I bristle and speed up to walk ahead of him. “Oh, don’t be like that with me, girl. Slow down!”

I don’t, pushing my way through the solid front doors. The inside of their clubhouse is much more lively than the outside. I count eighteen members sitting around in the makeshift living room/bar, some looking every bit the stereotypical biker with their leather vests and beards, others looking like normal young guys in faded T-shirts and ripped jeans. Open beer bottles are scattered throughout, and the buzz of a radio playing old rock carries through the air. Three scantily clad women float around, cackling at whatever the men are saying.

A few at a time, heads turn at our entrance, and I feel them sizing me up. I don’t recognize any of them, but Ned did say this club had over two hundred members.

I wonder how many of them are truly “just bikers.” They can’t all be into the kinds of things that Bobby, Moe, and the others have their hands in.

“How long am I stuck here for?” I ask Moe. I’ve cycled through panic and anger and have settled into exhaustion. I just want to go home.

“Until Bobby hears otherwise,” Moe murmurs, leaving us to chat with the other guys.

“And until then, he promised me you’d do a shoulder piece I was thinking about gettin’ done, seeing as he owes me for this and we have time to kill.”

“You want me to give you a tattoo now?” I grit my teeth in a smile that can’t be pleasant. “Sure, I’ll do that for you.”

Doubt flickers over his face. “Maybe we’ll wait until you’ve cooled off a bit.”

“Probably a good idea.” Taking a deep breath, I march farther into the clubhouse, putting on my best tough-girl gaze, even though inside I’m feeling anything but.

FORTY-FOUR

SEBASTIAN

“How long ago did the APBs go out?” I speed past a slow driver.

“A good hour,” Bobby says.

I knew these guys would have someone in the SFPD in their pockets. “She’s safe?”

“Yep. Mad as a snake, but nothing we can’t handle,” Bobby promises. “What are you up to?”

“This and that.”

“Right. Well, if you can get ‘this and that’ done before she bites me again, that’d be great.”