Surviving Ice (Burying Water #4)(82)

“Yeah? Same. Went to school in Colma.”

I sip on my beer instead of answering, letting the silence drag on.

“So, you and Ivy?”

Now I turn my attention to the burly blond guy next to me, to glare at him. “Are we really doing this, man?” I’m not going to sit on the steps and talk about whatever’s happening between the two of us.

He shrugs and climbs the steps, disappearing back into the house.

“Thanks for the beer,” I call out, taking the steps down two at a time. I walk to the end of the driveway and make a point of staring at the shadow in the car. Letting him know I see him.

The car pulls away from the curb and takes the first left turn.

Too far away for me to catch the license plate.

So this is how it’s going to be, is it?

I grit my teeth against the bubble of anger rising. Is this Bentley? Is it that f*cking idiot Mario?

I reach into my pocket to pull my burner out, to call Bentley and blast him. But no . . . f*ck it. I’ve warned them both.

I won’t warn them again.

THIRTY-ONE

IVY

“What do you know about this guy?” Bobby asks, peering out the window in Ned’s living room. It has a perfect view of the front porch, and of Sebastian standing at the edge of the driveway, staring at something down the street that I can’t see.

I fold my arms across my chest. “Enough.” My body is aching from hours of stooping over and climbing stairs and lifting. I don’t know how many times I had one of these guys trying to tell me to back off because something was too heavy for me, and me yelling at them that I’m fine.

I should have listened.

“Why?”

“Dude’s weird.”

“No he’s not. He’s just quiet. That’s how I like my men. Not chatterboxes.” I stare pointedly at Bobby. He hasn’t shut up for more than five minutes all day.

“Where does he live?”

“In a house.”

“Ivy . . .”

“He kicked your asses yesterday. Like I’m going to give you guys his home address.”

Bobby scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, he did. What kind of guy needs to know how to do that?”

“He was in the navy. He served in Afghanistan,” I finally offer, more because I want Bobby and the guys to show some respect for Sebastian.

Bobby nods slowly, as if that clears things up for him. “What does he do now?”

“He’s a bodyguard.”

“For what company?”

I shrug and scowl. “I don’t know.”

“I can ask around. What’s his last name?”

“You’re not asking around about him. Leave him alone.”

Bobby looks at me in shock. “You don’t even know the guy’s last name, do you?”

“So what if I don’t? I don’t know your last name. Hell, I don’t know what your dad’s real name is!” I know it’s not Moe, just like Tiny’s real name isn’t Tiny.

“Yeah, but you’re not bangin’ my dad or me.”

I cringe at the suggestion.

“I’m just lookin’ out for ya, is all. That’s what Ned would want us to do. This guy just shows up out of the blue right after Ned dies, and now he’s stuck on you like glue.”

“He doesn’t do things half-assed.” I think it’s all-or-nothing with a guy like him. Just like it’s all-or-nothing with me.

“Yeah . . .” Bobby doesn’t sound convinced. “Something about him doesn’t sit right with me. You’ve always been a smart girl. Use your gut and get some answers about him. I don’t trust him.”

“Funny. He doesn’t trust you either.” Though Sebastian hasn’t come out and said it, I see it in his eyes every time he looks at Bobby.

“Yeah . . . I figured as much. I’m takin’ off now.” He slings his jacket over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”

I sigh, offering a grudging, “Thanks for the help.”

“Thank my dad. He tore a strip off my hide yesterday for gettin’ mad at ya.”

I listen to Bobby’s heavy footsteps pound down the steps, considering his words.

Sebastian is still a mystery, I’m aware of that. But is there something that I definitely need to know, and now?

Something he’s not telling me?

The last thing I want to do is pry. He’ll tell me more about himself when he’s ready, just like Dakota said. As weird as she is, she has the uncanny ability of being right about these things.

“Hey, Ivy!” Sebastian’s deep voice calls out and my entire being automatically responds, my heart skipping a beat, energy spiking, a thrill coursing through my limbs. All at the sound of his voice calling my name.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s head out. I need to eat.”

“Coming.”

“Ned used to eat subs at least three times a week,” I murmur through a mouthful. Not graceful, I know, but I’m starving.

“Hey, listen, would Dakota mind if I stay at your place for a few nights?” he asks, his eyes are on his rearview mirror more than the road ahead, as they have been since we left Ned’s house.

“Not at all.” I frown. “What’s wrong with your place?”