Surviving Ice (Burying Water #4)(105)

But more worrying to me than anything else right now . . . Does he really care about me, or has this all been some big scam?

Because that will crush me.

All these thoughts are going on under the mask of calm that I’ve mastered as I throw back my drink.

Bobby watches me warily, as if he expects me to suddenly explode.

“What?” I ask, and I realize my voice is way too steady.

“I figured you’d take that news a little harder.”

I divert the subject away from me and my feelings. “If you think there’s something wrong with him, then why are you helping him?”

Bobby considers that for a long moment. “Because I don’t think he means you any harm.”

And yet he’ll probably break my heart into a million tiny pieces.

“Look, you two can hash all that out when you see him again. I don’t get involved in this shit. If you want uncomplicated, come sit on my lap. Otherwise, drink, ink, sleep . . . or shut up.”

Exactly the kind of answer I’d expect from a guy like Bobby. I wave my empty shot glass at the guy behind the bar, who promptly fills it again.

“To Ned,” Bobby says.

I clink my glass against his. “To Ned.”

FORTY-SIX

SEBASTIAN

The dilapidated trailer shows no signs of life—no lights, no sound. Apparently this is Ricky’s uncle’s property. Ricky dropped a trailer on it last year. He likes to come out here for weekends and shoot targets.

It took just over four hours for me to get to this middle-of-nowhere location, just outside Reno, Nevada. If I couldn’t see the nose of an old Chevy pickup tucked behind the trailer, I’d think Bentley had sent me here on a wild-goose chase to get me away from San Francisco and Ivy. Had I not already secured her safety, I would have dragged him here with me just to be sure.

As it is, this could be a trap.

I move quietly and slowly in the dark until I find a sizable rock to hide behind. From there, I settle in, using night-vision binoculars that I swiped from Bentley’s stash.

And I wait. For four hours, ignoring the cold, surrounded by nothing but desert and rocks and the high-pitched barks of coyotes circling their kill, until I’m sure that no one is on alert, waiting for me.

And then I move in, slithering beneath the truck and behind the tires to lie in wait.

The sky is beginning to lighten when I finally hear movement inside the trailer. Footfalls. Someone rolling out of bed.

My heart begins to race as it always does, as adrenaline kicks in, hoping that everything goes according to plan. It’s so easy for these things to derail, especially when there’s more than one person involved.

Moments later, the door swings open with a loud creak and bang. I’m careful to hide behind the wheel as I watch Mario step out, his nose still puffy and slightly discolored. His gaze drifts over the wide expanse of land. Someone else would think he’s simply taking in the terrain, but I know better.

He rounds the corner with a stretch and then pulls his sweatpants down to take his morning piss, his back to me.

That’s when I roll out, gun aimed, silencer on.

And close the distance silently, like I’ve been trained to do so well.

He deserves this. For all those girls he raped.

And to keep Ivy safe.

He deserves it because otherwise he’s going to get away with it. And maybe do it again.

I wait until he turns around, until our eyes lock, but it’s not long enough for him to react.

And just like that, in seconds, half of my problem is gone, and Ned’s killer has been punished.

Ricky, still asleep in his bed, is a quick finish, too.

That’s usually what my job is—hours, even days of preparation, seconds of execution.

And then I get to the real work, setting the stage for the cops.

FORTY-SEVEN

IVY

“Why couldn’t we take the truck again?”

“Carl needed it,” Bobby yells over his shoulder.

I glower at the back of his head as his Harley turns down Dakota’s street. I’d like to punch him in the ribs, but I want to make it home alive, so I keep my hands where they are, with my kit sandwiched between the two of us. I refused to leave it behind. “What exactly did Sebastian say?” I’m still pissed that Bobby didn’t wake me up when the phone rang. He says he tried, and I snarled at him and burrowed farther into the grimy leather couch in response, but I think he’s bullshitting me. He also let me sleep in—something I only do after shooting half a bottle of cheap whiskey to keep my idle mind distracted.

“That he’d meet you at home.”

My stomach does a nervous flip. I still have no idea what I’m going to say to him when I see him.

That I know he’s been lying to me about everything?

Turns out I don’t have to figure it out just yet. There is no navy Acura in the driveway. Bobby pulls in behind my car and I hop off the back of his bike, glad to have two boots on the ground. Dakota waits in the doorway with a smile and a coffee for me.

I think it’s for me, only Bobby is trailing me in and she’s smiling at him, too.

He’s a sucker if he thinks that’s going anywhere. “You owe me a new phone, by the way.”

“Take it up with your guy,” he grumbles, already dismissing me, his attention glued to my friend in her loose, flowing dress.