Page 3 of Ice Cold Liar (Ice Breaker Cold Case #14)

The bastard had just threatened to kill her. “I don’t think so.” Eb let go of his gun, for the moment. But only so he could curl his hands around Naomi’s waist. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Who the hell are you?” Ivan demanded.

The faintest hint of Russia slid beneath his words. Making them rougher. Deeper.

Like I didn’t already know you were Russian mafia.

Eb was staring straight at Ivan Sokolov.

The guy had been in the US since he was sixteen—that was why only a trace of his accent remained.

Ivan had a rap sheet a mile long. He’d been linked to all sorts of crimes, both in the US and abroad, and he’d sure as hell been on the CIA’s radar.

He’d have to be on their radar, considering that he was a confidential source for them.

Eb had never worked directly with the guy.

Ivan had a reputation for being a volatile prick.

But Eb’s partner Hudson had been Ivan’s main contact on plenty of cases.

“I’m a friend of Hudson’s,” Eb replied.

Ivan’s gaze flickered. “Don’t know that name.”

“Hudson Wyatt,” Eb enunciated slowly. He got that Ivan was pretending not to know the guy in front of his crew. Not like the big Russian could admit to being an informant. Not admit it, and stay alive, anyway. “He’s her dead husband.”

Ivan’s jaw hardened. “You mean he’s the husband she killed? I do watch the news. I know her pretty, murderous face.”

Naomi tried to lunge for Ivan, but Eb tightened his hold on her. When she kicked back, aiming perfectly for his shin, Eb swore at the impact. Then he just lifted her up and held her in the air as those booted feet of hers kicked aimlessly.

Ivan laughed.

“I’ll take care of her,” Eb promised. “Was on my way to see you when I caught her playing with the bikes.” No, he hadn’t been going to see Ivan. But he could lie very, very well.

Right now, I need to get Naomi out of here before this crew rips her apart.

“I gave her thirty seconds.” Ivan crossed his flabby arms over his chest. “I figure that time is up.”

“She’s gone.” She would be gone. “I’ve got her.”

Naomi twisted and tried to surge for Ivan once more. “I’m not leaving without Henry, you sonofa?—”

Eb tossed her over his shoulder.

Naomi let out a guttural scream. A truly powerful one that blasted in Eb’s ears.

He kept one arm around the back of her thighs as he began walking very determinedly toward her truck.

One arm was around her, and his other hand had pulled his weapon.

Just in case any of the gang members decided to attack.

Naomi slammed her hands into his back. “Let me go, now! ”

“Do you want the Russian gang to rip you apart?” he asked her, voice pleasant. They were almost at the truck.

Almost. And there had been no attack…yet.

“They aren’t even all Russian!” she snapped back. “Ivan is. Maybe three others. His cousins. The rest are just posers who flock around him. Dammit, put me down before I have to hurt you!” Naomi heaved hard against him.

Hurt? The woman truly thought she could hurt him? Almost amusing.

And they were finally at her truck. So he put her down and immediately caged her between his body and the metal frame of the vehicle. “Listen to me. Carefully.” His voice was very, very low.

The gun was in his right hand.

A hand that was lodged between their bodies.

Her eyes widened. Then they dipped down to the gun. She swallowed. Slowly, her gaze came back up to meet his. They were far away from the lone exterior light, though, so he couldn’t read her expression clearly. But he thought fear might have flickered on her face.

“Ebenezer?”

“Do you want to die tonight?” He didn’t hear footsteps behind them. Not yet.

She didn’t respond.

So he pushed and questioned, “Eager to join your loving husband?”

“He wasn’t loving. And I don’t consider him my husband.”

“Funny. I could have sworn I heard you take vows.” Shit.

Had a hard edge just entered his voice? It had.

An edge that absolutely, under no circumstances, could be jealousy.

“Pretty sure you promised to love and honor him forever. But he wasn’t even cold in the ground, and you’d ditched your wedding ring.

” Yeah, he’d noticed the ring had been gone at the funeral.

Because I notice far too much about Naomi.

“I am not talking about this with you.” A hard, negative shake of Naomi’s head. “Get out of my way, Ebenezer.”

“Eb. ”

“Yeah, well, if I was named after the mean old guy from A Christmas Carol, I’d want people to call me something else, too.” Her chin notched up. “Get out of my way, Eb .”

He did not. He lowered his head. He crowded in closer. He got even more in her way. “That guy you just pissed off? He’s Bratva.” Would she even know about the Russian criminal underworld?

“Please. That guy is wannabe Bratva.”

Okay, so she knew about Bratva, but she was wrong in thinking Ivan wasn’t a dangerous threat. He was the real deal. Ivan should terrify her. But maybe nothing terrified Naomi. Maybe she didn’t have the capacity to truly fear anyone or anything.

“Ivan has something that belongs to me, and I’m getting it back,” she declared. “If I have to wreck his bar in order to get what I need, I’ll do it.”

The woman was impossible. “If I hadn’t carried you away, you could be dead right now.” Maybe she should try showing a little gratitude.

“Yeah, and why would you care?” Zero gratitude. Just a whole lot of kiss-her-assitude.

He blinked.

She heaved another sigh. “You hate me, Ebenezer. Oh, sorry, my bad. Eb. Like everyone else, you think I am a cold-blooded killer. Well, goody for you.”

“You have no idea what I think.” But, yes, I absolutely think you are a killer. Cold-blooded to the core. You didn’t even shed a tear at Hudson’s funeral. Not one.

Naomi huffed out a hard breath. “I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know why you’re in my way. I don’t know why you saw the need to carry me from my target. But here’s a word of warning…” Her chin notched up. “Stay out of my way.”

“Or what?” Eb had to ask. Her scent teased him. Not some sweet scent. This woman did not smell like candy. Or cinnamon. She was sensual. Sultry. Bold. Amber. Jasmine. A wild, warm?—

“Seriously, you want an ‘or what’ answer from me?”

Yeah, he did. Thus, the question he’d just asked. “If I don’t stay out of your way, are you gonna shove a knife into me the way you did Hudson?”

She stiffened.

He’d probably gone too far. The way to get close to the woman, the way to get her to reveal every secret she possessed, it was not to become her enemy and to have her hate him from day one.

The hate could—would—come later. After he’d locked her hot ass up in a jail cell.

For now, he had to try another technique.

So get your control back in place, man. Put on the mask you wear so well.

“Is that what you think?” Zero emotion entered her voice. “You gonna join the crowd who believes I murdered my husband and then set up the scene to look as if an intruder came in to kill him? You think I’m that diabolical?”

Hudson was a trained CIA operative. Getting killing close to him would be tricky. Your average home intruder would never get the drop on him. But Hudson would be fooled by someone he trusted. Someone he loved. Someone he loved could easily get close enough to kill him.

And Hudson had loved his beautiful wife very, very much.

The autopsy had shown zero defensive wounds on Hudson’s body. He hadn’t fought back at all against his killer. Probably because he hadn’t expected his beautiful, delicate, and deadly wife to attack him.

Eb swallowed. He took a step back. But her sensual scent followed him. Had his nostrils flaring as he tried to pull in more of her intoxicating scent. Intoxicating? Hell. Do not lust after your dead partner’s wife.

Yeah, right.

Do not lust after the woman who murdered your partner.

That should have been an easy enough rule to follow. Unfortunately, Eb was a bit twisted on the inside and the truth of the matter was that he’d always lusted for Naomi. From the very first moment he’d seen her dancing in that fountain, he’d wanted her for himself.

He and Hudson had spotted her at the same time. Eb had planned to introduce himself. To talk to the woman with the beautiful laugh and the carefree spirit.

But…

Tragedy had struck. Eb’s sister had needed him. He’d left Vegas without ever meeting Naomi.

And Hudson had wound up married to her.

Eb swallowed. “Crowds aren’t really my thing.

Never cared about fitting in with them. I’m more the loner-type.

” He glanced over his shoulder. Some guys were picking up Ivan’s bike.

Inspecting it for damage, but most of the crew—including Ivan—had gone back inside.

That was a win, for the moment. “He worked with your hus—with Hudson,” he corrected.

“Ivan did. I’m in town to close out some old cases.

Talking to him was on my to-do list.” Total lie.

Hell, Eb wasn’t even officially with the CIA any longer.

His departure was need-to-know info. Naomi did not need to know about it.

“Why the hell would the CIA care about a small-town thug like him?” she asked.

“Because Ivan isn’t small town. I told you, he’s Bratva.” Had she missed that part? He turned his head back toward her. “He has connections you wouldn’t believe. Just because he surrounds himself with local talent, it doesn’t mean Ivan can’t be an international player.”

That should terrify her. Or, at the very least, give her a pause.

“He’s an international pain in my ass, that’s what he is.”

So, uh, yes, she was not scared. Not of Ivan. Not of his gang. Was she not understanding basic facts of life? Maybe he needed to break this down even more for her. “Mess with Ivan, and he will hurt you.”

“I will hurt him.”

Eb laughed.

She glared.