Surviving Ice (Burying Water, #4)(100)

“I don’t give a shit about that.” If Dakota wants to nail this guy, have at it.

“What do you want, then?”

“Is that how you treat all your customers?”

“You need somethin’ towed? ’Cause I’ve missed plenty of work over here on account of helping with Ned’s house.”

“And you’re about to miss some more.”

Suspicion fills his face. “Who says?”

I sigh. Threatening him into helping isn’t going to get me anywhere. “I need your help with Ivy until I get back.”

Tossing the paperwork on the desk, he settles his arms across his chest. “Back from where?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

His eyes narrow.

I know he’s always been suspicious of me. Now I’m going to give him more reason to be. “It has to do with what happened to Ned.”

“I knew there was something off about you.” His lips twist with disdain. “You a pig?”

I chuckle. “No.”

He rounds the desk, his arms dropped and looking ready to grab hold of me. “Did you have something to do with Ned being put down? Because if you did—”

“No. But I know who did.”

He seems to consider that. “You better not be lookin’ to cash in on whatever it was he was into.”

“No, I want nothing to do with that. I want to make sure these guys get what they deserve.”

His tongue presses on the inside of his mouth as he considers this. It’s language he knows well, I suspect. “Me and my guys would be more than willin’ to help—”

“I work alone.” I hesitate. “But thanks anyway.”

He purses his lips and then nods. “What exactly do I need to do?”

I sigh. “Something Ivy’s probably not gonna agree to so easily.” I hand him a new burner phone.

“Fuck . . . You’re gonna owe me.” He shakes his head. “That one’s something else when she’s mad.”





FORTY-THREE


IVY


“Yeah. That’s the scar.”

“You sure?” Detective Fields hovers over my shoulder, his musky cologne the only appealing thing in this place. I was on edge the moment I stepped into the precinct, part of me anxious to turn around and run out, the other part excited to finally nail someone to the wall for what they did to Ned.

“I’m positive.” Now that it’s come back to me, I remember it well. I even drew a sketch of it that I hold up next to the computer monitor. The guy’s hand is blown up and, though pixelated, I can still see the shape of it clearly.

“They’re identical,” he agrees. “That’s . . . crazy how accurate that is.”

“Are we done here?” I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this long-drawn-out process to get to this place. Still, I feel lighter than when I stepped in here. I was afraid that Sebastian was right, and nothing would come of this. That Ned’s killers are long gone.

“For now. We’ll put APBs out on these guys and bring them in for a lineup. You’ll need to come back in to positively ID them.”

“You have my number.” I collect my purse and stand to leave. “How’d you find them? anyway?”

Fields thumps a handful of folders against his desk to tidy the papers tucked inside. “While I had some of my guys looking into our main angle with the bikers, I thought I’d check out some less likely ones. Just to close the loop. That’s what I like to do. So I started looking into Dylan Royce as the potential prime target instead of your uncle. He was an ex-Marine with an impressive record and the know-how to defend himself. I figured whoever took him out had to know what they were doing, gun or not. Made me think that they knew each other, so I started digging into his Marine Corps buddies.”

“These two guys were Marines?” An unsettling feeling begins to stir within me. There has been an unusual influx of military guys in my life lately. One in particular.

“Ex. Now they’re working for a private security company.”

A private security company.

Like Sebastian.

“I’ve already told you more than I should. Keep it to yourself, okay?” He leads me down the hall, toward the main entrance, files tucked under his arm. “How are repairs going at your house, anyway?”

“Almost ready for paint,” I answer, though I’m not really listening anymore, my mind racing. You’re not stupid, Ivy.

Sebastian walking into your shop wasn’t a coincidence, Ivy.

I don’t want to listen to my conscience, but I can’t seem to drown it out anymore, either.

Be smart, Ivy. He’s not really a bodyguard, is he . . .

Fields’s voice finally overpowers my dark worries. “. . . I know this is a bit of a shock to your system. Do you have someone picking you up?”

“My . . .” What is he? “. . . Friend. You know him.”

He scans the case folder still tucked under his arm. “Gregory. Or Greg? Yeah.”

What? “No. Sebastian.”

He frowns. “Then, no. Don’t know him. I only met the guy at the house the night of the robbery. Anyway, let me know if you need anything, and keep your phone close to you because I’m going to call as soon as we’ve picked up these guys,” he throws over his shoulder, already on his way back to work.