“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Bobby mutters wryly, shooting Ivy with a look. “I see what’s goin’ on here. If you need me, I’ll be fixin’ the tile in the bathroom. Shirtless.” He rubs his belly.
“No thanks,” Ivy throws back, kicking the door shut with her boot.
I know that look well.
“We’ve still got a lot to do, Ivy,” I tell her. She strolls toward me with purpose. “I could have all the holes filled by tonight if I keep going.”
“Uh-huh.” She stops in front of me, her head tilted back to keep eye contact.
“Didn’t you tell your real estate agent that you’ll have this ready to go on the market by next week?”
“I did.” Her fingers search out my belt, unfastening it, a fierce look taking over her face as her hand slips down the front of my jeans. “You feel like you could use a break, though.”
“Christ, you’re greedy,” I whisper, lifting her up to settle on the ledge of an odd-size window that’s, thankfully, just the right height. “Neighbors are going to get a show if they look up here.”
“It’ll be a good one. Have you seen yourself right now?” She trails a finger along the light sheen of sweat down the center of my abs, and then sticks it in her mouth.
That’s the end of my restraint. I grab her pants at the sides and peel them down over her hips, tugging at them until they’re at her knees and I’ve got her legs pushed out of the way, gaining me access to her.
I’m just pushing into her when my burner phone rings.
That ring is like a bucket of cold water.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“Ignore it.”
“I can’t.” I pull out, release her legs, and step back, pulling her down with me, sliding her pants back up. “I need to take this.” Bentley will let it ring at least twenty times before hanging up.
“Why? Who is it?” Suspicion screams in her voice. She’s still thinking I’ve got another life. I guess I do; it just doesn’t involve other women.
“It’s work.”
“Oh.” Some of the suspicion eases away.
“I’ll meet you downstairs.”
With reluctance, she walks away, closing the door behind me.
Just in case she’s listening on the other side, I slide the window open, pop out the screen, and slip out onto that shitty old shed in the back that will afford me some privacy as I answer. “Yeah.”
“Ice.”
My stomach instantly tightens. This isn’t just a check-in call. He has another assignment for me, and soon.
“I couldn’t reach you last night.”
“Dead battery,” I answer without missing a beat. That’s a lie. I turned it off, like I’ve been doing every night that I stay with Ivy. I’m not entirely sure how easy it is for his minions to track me down, but I know that if this phone rings and someone answers, he’ll know where I’m staying. In the off chance that he hasn’t already figured it out, there’s no point making it too easy for him.
“I have a job for you,” Bentley says, his voice as smooth as usual. Only I don’t feel the same affection for it anymore, now that I can’t hear it without a rush of distrust. “I need you to come and meet me—”
“No.” Another assignment that involves me meeting directly with Bentley? Hell no.
There’s a long pause. I’ve never refused an assignment before. But just the idea of leaving Ivy right now makes me want to puke.
“I think accepting is in your best interests.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? How is sending me to China or Sudan, or somewhere else far away from Ivy, so Scalero can tie up his loose end, in my best interests? “I’m not leaving her.” I’m not a SEAL anymore, and he can’t order me around.
“What’s this about?”
“The car that was sitting outside the house.” He knows exactly where I am right now. There’s no point pretending. “Was he on her, or on me?”
“Why would I have anyone on you?” Bentley’s friendly tone is gone, but I don’t buy his irritation for a second. Months drag between my assignments. He wants me gone now for a reason. He wants to erase this last question mark—Ivy—for a reason.