Surviving Ice
Page 37

But I know she’s shaken up by the entire experience tonight, whether she’ll admit it or not.
The cops let her collect a few overnight things before sending us out so they can finish their evidence collection. I lean over to grab the handles of her duffel bag in my backseat, taking in the scent of her as I get close. She doesn’t make a move, and I’m not about to try anything on her now. “Whose place did you say this is?” I ask.
She glances toward the house, where a porch light is now on. “My friend Dakota, from Oregon.”
“Okay, well, you’ll be safe here. I’m sure of it.” I know because I watched my mirrors for a tail the entire drive over.
Silence hangs inside my car for a few long breaths. “How’s your side?”
“Don’t even feel it,” I lie. It’s not too bad, but it’s definitely noticeable.
“You’ll need to take the wrap off soon.” She pauses. “If you come inside, I could do that for you.”
I glance at the shadow watching from the window. “You’ve already woken your friend up in the middle of the night. You don’t think she’ll mind you bringing a stranger in with you?”
“Dakota?” She snorts. “She’ll love it. She invites strangers over all the time.”
“That doesn’t sound safe,” I joke. It’d be so easy to say yes, but I have things I need to deal with. “I’ll be fine. But thanks.”
She chews the inside of her mouth, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s probably wondering why I didn’t offer to bring her back to my place for the rest of the night. I considered it, because I’d rather not let her out of my sight after what happened, but I don’t think even someone as open-minded as Ivy can look past the motel with hourly rates and hookers hanging off the streets outside. “Thanks for sticking around and helping me deal with the cops,” she finally says. “And driving me here.”
As far as the police know, Gregory White accompanied Ivy home from the club. Luckily she wasn’t around when I was giving them that information. They’ll run it through, I’m sure, and they’ll find the dummy profile that Bentley had set up—a thirty-one-year-old truck driver—as a precaution. And hopefully, that’s where that’ll end.
“When you want to go and get your car, give me a call and I’ll take you.”
She slips her duffel bag out of my grasp. “That’s not necessary.” The cool, I-don’t-need-help-from-anyone Ivy is slipping back.
“Yeah, it is. You heard the cops. These people ransacked your place. Given your uncle was killed two weeks ago, it’s suspicious. I don’t want you going to that shop again without me, either.”
Rare amusement dancing in her eyes. “Is this you going all badass bodyguard on me?”
I smirk. “Something like that.”
“Well, don’t think I’m gonna pay you. I have no money for protection.”
“I seem to remember handing you fourteen hundred bucks today.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gives me a sly smile, but then all amusement fades from her face. “Do you always carry a gun, even when you’re not working?”
I figured that would come up, eventually. “Yeah.” I hesitate but ask, “Does it bother you?”
She shakes her head and then dismisses the topic entirely. “Well, I’m going to the shop at nine in the morning to let the painters in. That’s”—she glances at the clock—“only five hours away.” She looks from the house back to me. I can’t tell if she’s just pointing out the obvious or fishing for me to stay. I don’t even think it’s about getting laid anymore. By the way she seemed to gravitate to my side for the past few hours, dealing with the cops, I think she just feels safer having me around. And that is why I’d love to say yes to her right now.
Pulling out my burner phone—idiot move but it’s the only phone I have on me—I demand, “Give me your number.”
She recites her number and then pushes open the door and climbs out.
I briefly consider grabbing her arm, pulling her back in to taste the last of the whiskey and Coke in her mouth, but I resist because I know where that’ll lead and I do need to go. “Get some sleep. I’ll come back in the morning,” I call out, watching her saunter up to the house with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder. The door opens and a pretty woman with long dark hair and tan skin appears in nothing but a nightshirt. She’s smiling wide, like she’s not at all bothered by the late arrival.
I wait until the door is closed, send her a quick generic “sleep well” text so she has my number, and then pull away.
Bentley answers the phone with a gruff, “Yeah?”
“You sent those fuckers into her house!”
There’s a pause and then I hear rustling on the other end, followed by a muffled, “It’s not even five in the morning, John. Who’s calling?”
“It’s okay. It’s work.”
“What phone is that? That’s not your iPhone, is it?”
“Go back to sleep, Tuuli.” He heaves a sigh. Footfalls sound, and I can picture him trudging down the long hall to his office. Not until a door shuts does he speak again. “I warned you, didn’t I?”
“You said tomorrow, and you didn’t say anything about going into her house.”
“I changed my mind and had them go in to do a final sweep tonight. Figured we had to be sure.”
“That wasn’t a sweep, John. They ransacked it.”
“So the police will file a report and she’ll claim insurance. Not a big deal.”
I grit my teeth against the urge to yell. “You also said they’d stay away from me. One of those assholes was ten feet away from me tonight. He followed her to the club.”
“Did he approach you?”
“No, but—”
“Then he followed orders and there’s nothing to discuss here, so stand down!” Bentley doesn’t like being questioned, and he’s not used to it coming from me.
“Don’t you think turning over a recently murdered man’s house will raise suspicions?”
“Maybe, but no one will have anything to go on and it’ll die down soon enough. It’s worth it, if it means finding that tape.”
“And did they?” I already know the answer, because I already searched the fucking house!
A long pause. “No.”
“Keep them away from me. And her. If she has the tape, she doesn’t know.”
“How do you—”
“Because I’m good at what I do. I can read people, and I know that she had no fucking clue why anyone would want to bust into her place tonight. If she were hiding a tape that got her uncle killed, she’d be freaking out and running. And now the cops have turned their attention to her, and they’re already starting to ask questions that tie back to her uncle.”
A quiet “shit” slips out of Bentley’s mouth.
Seriously, what did he think was going to happen when he told those guys to tail us? They’d already acted beyond the scope of his orders before. Stupid amateur move, Bentley.