Page 18 of Ice Cold Liar (Ice Breaker Cold Case #14)

Chapter Ten

Fatal mistake.

She was in bed with the enemy.

Only, he didn’t feel like the enemy.

Naomi’s eyes had opened and immediately locked on Eb. Eb who was sleeping right beside her in bed. Eb who had thick, tousled hair, a stubble-covered jaw, and almost ridiculously long eyelashes. He slept beside her, seemingly at total ease, and one of his arms rested around her.

The man was dangerous and intense when he was awake. When he was asleep and all that lethal energy that cloaked him had quieted, he was drop-dead gorgeous. And far too sexy.

It had been six months since Hudson’s death and funeral. Six months since she went from a bride to a widow to a murder suspect. She hadn’t been involved with anyone in that time. How could she hook up with someone new? The Wicked Widow hadn’t exactly attracted a throng of eager admirers.

Not that she’d been interested in anyone.

Her body had locked down into what felt like cold storage after her nightmare of a wedding night.

In order to get involved with someone new, she’d need to be able to trust the person.

She’d made a mistake with Hudson, and Naomi had been terrified that she’d be wrong about a new lover, too.

You had doubts before that terrible night with Hudson. Don’t lie to yourself. You thought he was too good to be true. She’d stood in her wedding dress, staring at her reflection in the mirror of her dressing room as guests waited in the chapel, and she’d felt doubt.

Even before Memphis Camden had barged his way into the dressing room, she’d felt doubt.

Hudson had wooed her for a long while. Yep, woo. That was how she thought of it now. He hadn’t come on too strong, not at first. Not back in Vegas. He’d taken his time. Slowly pulled her in. Hadn’t rushed her.

At the time, she’d been grateful that someone wanted to take things slowly. No pressure. No rush. The months had slipped by. He’d continued to be charming. Continued to always seem to know exactly what she wanted even before she knew herself.

With his job—the job he’d first said was some sort of international public relations gig, but later she’d learned had actually been with the freaking Central Intelligence Agency—Hudson had been gone often.

Sometimes, he’d vanished for weeks or even months at a time.

But he’d always come back. Always picked up their relationship.

Eventually Hudson had told her that he was switching jobs. That he’d be stateside. That he wanted to be with her, forever.

Then had come the engagement. Again, not rushed. They’d moved to Baton Rouge. Found property that would be perfect for her dreams. Planned the wedding.

With every step, she should have been deliriously happy. She’d finally gotten a partner who swore he loved her more than anything. That he would do anything for her.

It was just that, sometimes, Naomi thought she’d seen cracks. Small flashes of anger. Tense moments. She could have sworn she felt secrets.

Then Memphis had appeared. The personification of rain on her wedding day with his suspicions and gruff voice and his worries. She’d listened to him. Her stomach had knotted.

But she’d still gone through with the ceremony. Why?

Hudson was offering me everything I ever wanted. And she’d thought, surely Memphis had to be wrong.

She’d fallen for a handsome liar. He’d offered her a perfect life on a silver platter, but it had all been a lie. The truth had come out when she was helpless.

No, even moments before that. The truth had come out when Hudson pulled out the knife. When he put it to her throat. When he told her he could do anything he wanted and no one could stop him. When he’d hurt her, driving his fist into her stomach. Not just once. When he’d seemed to enjoy her pain.

When he’d pulled the blade of the knife down her body…

And then the seizure started. She’d been too terrified. Too desperate. The seizure had swept over her, and Hudson had loved the power he had as he watched her be so helpless. He’d even let go of the knife. The better to just relax and enjoy her suffering.

Now she was in bed with another man. One who had saved her. One she knew suspected her of murder. But…

Eb wasn’t lying. He wasn’t pretending.

For her, he was real. What she saw with him—that was what she got. Growly, rough, unpolished, suspicious, and fierce. Not perfect. Far from it.

Naomi had discovered she hated perfection.

He got my dog back for me. He got me out of bed when the house was burning. And when she’d been at her absolute most vulnerable, as tremors had wracked her body, he’d held her hand. He’d stayed with her. He’d gotten her help.

He hadn’t made her beg, the way the man who’d professed to love her had done.

Her gaze lingered on Eb’s handsome face. If only she’d met him first…

But there was no changing the past or erasing the sins that we committed in this world. All we could do was move forward. Speaking of moving forward…

She needed to get out of that bed before she made a very bad mistake. A mistake that might feel so very good.

Sex with Eb.

Nope. She should not. Should not think about it. Fantasize about it. Most definitely, Naomi should not give in to temptation and actually do it.

But I want to. I want Eb.

Time to get out of the bed.

First, though, she needed to slip out from beneath his arm.

“If I don’t get to be creepy and watch you sleep, it hardly seems fair for you to watch me.” His eyes opened. Totally aware. Completely awake. “Morning, beautiful.”

She felt the impact of his stare all the way through her body. Those eyes of his—they stared at her with almost…a possession. No, she had to be wrong about that. Didn’t she?

He blinked, and this gaze was just steady. Intense.

I was wrong. “It’s not morning.” Her voice was too husky. Naomi cleared her throat and tried again. “The light coming in the window tells me that it has to be late afternoon.” At least.

His lips kicked into a grin. “Feel better?”

She did. No longer hollowed out and on the verge of collapse.

“Thank you.” Another clearing of her throat.

“For looking after me. You didn’t have to do that.

” She had to get out of the bed. Naomi shot up and away from his warm arm.

She was grateful to see that she still wore her clothes.

Minus her shoes and socks. When had she lost them?

Didn’t matter. Naomi scrambled for the side of the bed.

He caught her wrist. “Of course, I had to do it. You think I’m so much of a monster that I’d let you risk death alone?”

“My husband was a monster who watched me and wanted me to beg.” There.

Done. She was done keeping secrets and tiptoeing.

Maybe Eb would believe her. Maybe he wouldn’t.

She’d been dropping details about Hudson and spilling the truth bit by bit.

Why not just go all-in? “But you probably think I’m lying about that, don’t you?

About him being a monster? Surely your friend couldn’t be a monster.

Except, he was.” Naomi tugged on her wrist. “Let me go.”

“I’m setting up a meeting with Memphis Camden. I want to know exactly why he suspected Hudson.”

Well, she hadn’t expected that news. “Excuse me?” She did a double take. “The detective thought that story was bullshit. As far as I know, Clark never even called Memphis!”

Eb sat up in bed. He was still dressed, too. And she found that disappointing. Would it have killed him to take off his shirt before he climbed into bed with her? She didn’t think so. And, um, “Why are you in bed with me?”

“I wanted to be close in case you needed me.”

That was… “Kind,” she whispered.

A furrow appeared between his brows. “There’s not a lot that’s kind about me.”

“I disagree.”

The furrow deepened. “Some women would be really pissed that I entered their beds without an invitation.”

What if I said you always had an invitation? Her lips clamped together so she would not say those words out loud. Because they would be a mistake. Right? “Some women haven’t just had seizures. I appreciate you looking after me.”

His gaze burned. His thumb slid over her inner wrist, just along her pulse. Her pulse immediately raced.

She needed to get back on track, stat.

“Naomi.”

She liked the way he said her name. All deep and rumbling and sensual.

“Naomi, you told the investigating detective about Memphis and his claims—and the guy did nothing?”

As far as she knew, yes, nothing. “Clark said I was making allegations against the dead. Allegations that had no way to be proven.”

“Did you tell the DA? The press?” Then Eb shook his head. “No, no press. I would have read about the story if you had.”

“The press already had their villain. They were already twisting everything I said or did. What would be the point in giving them more fuel for the fire?”

He let go of her wrist. She sprang away from the bed.

Jaw locking, he rose, too. “Are you keeping more secrets? If so, tell them to me, now.”

“What do you want? For me to make some big confession to you right now?” She backed away.

She really, really wanted to confess all to him.

Wouldn’t it feel great to share her burden with someone else?

But she was so afraid to make another mistake.

“What will you do?” Naomi asked. “What will be your big plan? Hmmm? If I were suddenly to confess to you—to say that Hudson was hurting me. That he pulled out a knife on our wedding night. That he put it to my throat and then dragged it down my body and told me he could do anything he wanted to me. That he punched me in the stomach over and over and laughed when a seizure had me shaking and shuddering on the bed.”

All of the color seemed to leave Eb’s face. His eyes narrowed to slits of fury. “ What?”