Surviving Ice (Burying Water #4)(87)

“Not you too,” I grumble. Which reminds me, I need to talk to Ian again.

He chuckles. “You made the decision to sell and leave San Francisco when you were upset. You made it so you could run.”

“You say that like you know me.” He’s right, though.

“But maybe that’s not the right decision for you anymore,” he goes on, ignoring my sarcasm. “Maybe, deep down, you want to stay here. Maybe you have a reason to stay now.”

“What would that reason be?” Is this Sebastian’s way of asking me not to leave San Francisco because he’s here? Because if he is . . .

I desperately want that to be the reason.

I’ve known this guy for days, and yet I feel like I’ve been through so much with him. Is this what happens with his clients, too? Do they form hard-and-fast bonds with their bodyguard when he’s shuttling them around, responsible for their well-being, protecting them from harm, spending long periods of time with them? That I’ve just been through a traumatic event only amplifies my dependence on him, I’m sure.

And it also probably doesn’t help that I’m sleeping with him.

I sure as hell hope he doesn’t usually do that with his clients, too.

I’m definitely guessing he doesn’t ask them to go to Greece with him. That has to mean something.

Right?

This is not me. I don’t form dependencies on people, especially guys.

And yet I can’t push him away.

I sense Sebastian approaching me from behind, but I don’t turn. His hands on my hips and the feel of his rough jaw against my cheek as he leans in make me shiver.

Settling his chin on top of my head, he murmurs, “It doesn’t look bad. It’s different, yeah. A bit cold . . .”

I snort. “It’s so cold, it’s icy. I guess that’s why Fausto called it Ice. I hate it. It isn’t me.”

Sebastian hesitates, his body going slightly rigid against my back. “Then make it you. Add enough of Ivy to it to bring it back to life.”

“And then what?”

“Then keep it. Run it.” He spins me around to face him, tipping my chin up until I meet his gaze. “Stay here and make sure you really want this. You can always walk away later.”

I don’t think he’s talking about Black Rabbit right now. “I don’t know the first thing about actually running a shop, though.”

“Do you know anyone who does?”

“My cousin.” And Ian is all on board for keeping it open. “He has a place in Dublin.”

“I’m sure he’ll help you out. It can’t be that hard.” His eyes wander over the corners. “I can upgrade the security system for you. You need something better than a VCR.”

“You know how to do that, too?”

He smirks. “I’m a man of many talents.”

I take a deep breath and begin surveying the walls under a new light.

An Ivy light.

THIRTY-FOUR

SEBASTIAN

Did I do that to her today?

Did I convince her to stay in San Francisco because I’m here?

Because I don’t f*cking live here!

Technically, I don’t live anywhere. Just a series of comfortable hideouts to choose from.

But standing in that shop and convincing Ivy to basically settle down made me wonder if maybe I could do the same. There’s nothing stopping me. I have no commitments, nowhere I need to be. No one to be there with.

But here, in San Francisco, I could have her.

And she wants me. She’s falling for me.

I don’t have to tell her about what I’ve been doing for the past five years. No one besides Bentley knows, and he’s not going to say a f*cking word about any of it because he’s tied to it as much as I am.

Though she’s going to wonder why I’m not working after a while. Where all my money comes from. Maybe I could get a legitimate job as a bodyguard. Alliance hires them. It also hires people to train others—police, firefighters, military—in combat. I could do that, too. The money won’t be as good, but what has all the money I’ve made gotten me so far?

Even as I convince myself of all this, that little voice in the back of my head keeps telling me that I’m a f*cking moron if I think I can hide my past from her forever. That she’ll have anything to do with me when she does find out.

“I’m getting out,” Ivy says, peering up over her shoulder at me, her soaked black hair roped around her fist. Water streams over her body in rivulets, trailing between those perfect tits, down a taut belly, down thin but toned thighs. Her skin is coated in gooseflesh. I’m guessing on account of the cooling water. We’ve spent the entire hot-water tank f*cking against the wall after a long day working on the house. I forgot both how difficult shower sex is and how much I actually enjoy showering with a woman, even if I spend most of it outside the stream of hot water.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I promise, bending down to kiss her shoulder. She turns to me, meeting my lips with her own. I watch her duck out, wrapping a towel around her curves.

Staying here is the best thing for her, I tell myself. It’s the easiest way for me to stay with her. If she takes off somewhere, I’m going to have a harder time explaining why I’m following her. And until I know that nothing can come of Detective Fields investigating Royce’s former Alliance connections, I’m going to be following her everywhere, because I’ll never forgive myself if something bad happens to her.