Surviving Ice (Burying Water #4)(98)

She smiles, pleased. “Okay.”

Dakota’s moans have reached their peak and, coupled with some deep grunts and groans, sound like the two have come to the end of the performance.

“I’m betting it’s the California Bum.” Ivy pulls herself out of bed. “We need to get out of here before they emerge. I’ll vomit if I witness that.”

“Ten minutes?”

Ivy turns to see my hard-on and scowls. “Not a chance.”

I shrug. It’s hard for any guy to listen to that and not be affected. I watch with an arm tucked under my head as she pulls on fresh clothes, covering up her body. “Hurry up and get dressed!” she hisses, tossing a T-shirt and briefs that land on my face. I pull them off with a grin to see her sliding the pocket door open.

At the same time that the pocket door from Dakota’s room slides open, and a very sweaty, very naked Bobby fills the doorway.

“You knew that was him all along, didn’t you!” she accuses.

I don’t say anything as I drive, because she’s right. I did recognize Bobby’s gruff voice. I just didn’t know how to bring it up without Ivy losing her mind, like she is right now.

“God, why him? She’s a beautiful woman who could have anyone she wants, and yet . . . him!”

“Why do you care? You know she has . . . eclectic tastes.”

She sinks into the car seat. And frowns. “I don’t know. I guess . . . I guess I still blame those guys for what happened to Ned. They shouldn’t have let him gamble.”

“Ned was a grown man who made his own decisions.” And they have nothing to do with what happened to him.

“I know. I just . . .” She shudders.

I can’t help it, I start to laugh.

“Oh, you think this is funny?”

I can’t stop laughing, even as I pull into the driveway behind Carl’s pickup truck. Carl is on the front porch, having a smoke, the phone pressed to his ear, a wide grin on his face. I’m guessing that’s Bobby on the other end, warning him to stay on Ivy’s good side because she’s already pissed off.

I climb the steps behind her.

“How’s it going in there?”

Carl has managed to wipe the smile off but there’s still amusement there. He’s a decent enough guy. Less rough looking than the others, with short, dark curly hair and a clean-shaven face. “Almost done. Another day to dry and sand again. Plastering is tricky.”

“And then it’ll be ready for you to paint and clean?” Carl’s already said he’s “not painting any goddamn walls,” but the way Ivy delivers it, you’d think she’s seriously expecting it.

He holds his hands up. “Not doing it! Especially not with those f*cking pigs coming around.”

She frowns. “Cops were here again?”

He pulls a card from his shirt pocket, holding it like he’s going to catch leprosy from the paper. “Came by an hour ago, looking for you.”

She digs her phone out of her purse. “Crap, I didn’t hear it.” She looks back at me. “It’s Fields. I wonder what that’s about?” She hits Dial and holds the phone to her ear.

My body breaks out in a cold sweat as I listen to her conversation, easily filling in the side that I can’t hear.

FORTY-ONE

IVY

The silence in the car is deafening as Sebastian pulls up to the curb at the precinct.

“You’re not coming in with me?”

Sebastian bows his head to peer out the passenger-side window, his eyes hidden behind glasses. “You’ll be safe in there.”

“Well, yeah. I’m not worried about that.” I’m going to be looking at pictures of criminals. They want me to identify Ned’s killers. “What kind of errands do you suddenly have?” Only an hour ago, we were going to be shopping for paint supplies and an apartment.

“Shit I need to do.” His face has taken on that stony expression that I really don’t like, not right now anyway.

I glare at him.

“Don’t suddenly turn into one of those women, Ivy. Please.”

“What . . . One of those . . .” I feel like he just sucker-punched me. “I’m not ‘one of those women.’ I will never be ‘one of those women.’ ” I have never questioned him about anything until now. Even when I desperately want to know what’s going on. And the fact that I desperately want to know makes me pissed off at myself, and him. “Maybe you could stop being so f*cking mysterious!” I snap, yanking on the handle to get the hell out of the car before he sees the tears beginning to well.

A viselike grip latches onto my wrist and pulls me back in. “You’ll be fine. They may not even have anything concrete.” He sounds about as convincing as he did when he was telling me that drugged-out junkies might have trashed Ned’s house.

I don’t get this guy sometimes.

He leans in and plants a quick but hard kiss on my mouth, and the feel of his stubble against my skin makes some of my anger melt. “Call me when you’re done and I’ll be here to pick you up.”

“Yup.” I slip out of the car and make my way to the precinct doors. Not until I’m inside and turning around to check the street do I see him pull away, the tires squealing.

Leaving me confused and sad.