Surviving Ice (Burying Water #4)(106)

I roll my eyes. “Has Sebastian been around?”

Dakota shakes her head. “No. Sorry.”

I grab a glass of water and Advil and duck into my room, glad for the privacy, something I haven’t had since yesterday morning. Locking the bathroom doors, I take an extra-long shower, until I’m sure that I’ve missed whatever live show might be going on next door.

And then I curl up in my bed and wait for Sebastian to come home to me.

FORTY-EIGHT

SEBASTIAN

She looks so small, so fragile, so beautiful, her black hair splayed across the white pillows like streaks of paint, the evening’s light soft across her sleeping body, wrapped in a blue towel.

I want to savor this peace—her peace—for a while longer, because I honestly don’t know how Ivy’s going to react to the truth. I’d like to think she’ll take it in stride, like she’s taken everything so far. But I have to prepare myself for the reality that she may be done with me after this.

And the idea of that scares the hell out of me.

So I simply stand there and watch her sleep, until she must sense me because her eyes flutter open and she sits up with a start.

My stomach twists into knots.

“Sebastian.” She reaches out with a hand, beckoning me. “You’re okay.”

“I am.” For now.

Her eyes rove over me and then freeze and jump to meet mine, as if silently reprimanding herself for her thoughts. I feel the sudden switch in temperature, as she goes from concern to anger and hurt. It’s damn near icy, and it makes me shiver. “You’re not a bodyguard, are you?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t just happen to hear about my work from your friend Mike, did you?”

I sigh. “No.”

She grits her teeth. “And you know who killed my uncle.”

She’s pretty much figured everything out on her own as it is. At least that will make this slightly easier. I won’t feel like I’m slapping her across the face as I deliver each truth to replace my lies.

“I told you not to make me ask.”

I reconciled myself to telling her everything on the long drive here. If this is ever going to work, she needs to know. And if she doesn’t want anything to do with me after she knows . . .

My stomach clenches at the thought.

I take a seat on the edge of the bed, but I don’t dare reach out to touch her. “That day I walked into your shop for the first time?”

“Yeah,” she says with wariness.

“I was there for a videotape.” I meet her gaze. “And maybe to kill you.”

FORTY-NINE

IVY

I’ve never felt so many different emotions for one person over the course of an evening.

It quickly began with the overwhelming urge to vomit, as Sebastian described, in great detail, how he followed me, studied me and, after searching Ned’s house top to bottom for this video, decided to befriend me.

I flew straight for my case, tearing out the foam inset to run my fingers over the interior. Feeling the sticky residue left by the duct tape that Sebastian says held that damned video in place.

I can’t believe Ned would put it there for me to find.

I can’t believe Ned tried to blackmail someone to get out of his financial hole.

He got himself killed because of it.

He almost got me killed because of it, although I still can’t believe he ever thought it would come to this point.

I don’t know what to do with this reality yet. I can’t ever tell Ian. He’ll go back to hating his father all over again, and I don’t want him to feel that way toward Ned.

And then Sebastian went on to explain how his assignment was done, but how he didn’t want to leave, both because he wasn’t sure that I would be safe and because he just didn’t want to leave me. Because he had grown attached to me. I fought against the swell in my chest. I’m still fighting against it, because it’s not right.

It can’t be right.

At least all his strange, guarded behavior now makes sense.

Turns out I did need a bodyguard.

Only Sebastian isn’t a bodyguard.

“So, what exactly do you call yourself?”

“I don’t call myself anything.” His deep, cool voice fills the darkness in the room. “I just do my job.”

I peer down at those hands. Hands that have been all over my body so many times. Hands that have made me so happy.

Hands that have ended lives, and not just as a soldier at war.

As a calculated hunter.

“And that job is to kill people?”

“Sometimes. Yes.” I feel his eyes on my face. They’ve been there this entire conversation, weighing my every reaction, my every word. “Only when it’s necessary. And only when killing them saves lives.”

“Why kill Ned, then?”

He hesitates. “I didn’t kill your uncle, Ivy.”

“But you know who did. You knew all along and you lied to me.”

“It was safer for you not to know.”

Because the guy was following us. I shudder. At the club. At the store, the day Sebastian “walked into a wall” and cut his lip. In Ned’s house. No wonder Sebastian was sitting by the window with a gun. No wonder his gaze was always on everything around us. No wonder he wouldn’t let me out of his sight.