Surviving Ice (Burying Water, #4)(99)

“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.

And already missing him, as I go in to face this alone.

Something I’ve been comfortable with all my life.

Until now.





FORTY-TWO


SEBASTIAN


She’s terrified. I could feel it in the shake of her hands, hear it in the pitch of her voice, see it in her eyes. And I just left her to deal with that alone.

I feel like a complete *.

But what she doesn’t realize is that I’m just as scared, because everything is going to move at lightning speed from here on in, and if I misstep just once . . .

I’m guessing that Detective Fields found something in Royce’s mother’s scrapbook. I’m guessing it connects at least Scalero, if not Ricky as well. And I’m guessing whoever Bentley has on the inside will be calling him as soon as the APB is released for his contractors’ arrests.

This could all just be my paranoia, but my gut tells me it’s not. That this is the loose end—the threat—that they were afraid of.

I stare at the burner phone resting beside me. Itching to hit Dial, to confront Bentley. To ask him when exactly he sold his honor and morality for cash. And why he thought he could use me to help him do it. But that would be the dumbest thing I could do right now, because then I’d be tipping him off and giving those f*ck wits a head start.

If I had only myself to think about, I’d do it, and I’d enjoy it. Let them come to me.

But now there’s also Ivy to think about, and I can’t risk this falling on her.

Which means I need to play my cards right.

And fast.

Rolling down the window, I toss out the battery, then the burner phone, watching the pieces get crushed under the wheels of a truck.



Gravel kicks up behind my tires as I speed into the lot. I can just make out Bobby’s hulking figure in the office as he shifts around a filing cabinet.

I reconsider this plan of mine. Can I really trust the likes of these guys?

Yeah, I think I can. And I don’t have a choice. I know that Fez and the other two don’t have the brains or strength to go head-to-head with Ivy. But this two-hundred-and-fifty-pound biker . . . well, he at least has the strength and I don’t doubt he has the know-how, one way or another.

And from what I’ve seen, these guys are honorable enough when it comes to Ivy.

The buzzer goes off as I push through the door. Bobby glances up. “You better not be here to give me any grief about earlier.”