Page 8 of Ice Cold Liar (Ice Breaker Cold Case #14)

But she still retreated. Made her way casually toward the set of tools she’d left spread out after doing some repairs that morning. A hammer waited to the left. A weapon to use in a pinch if she needed one.

He didn’t follow her, but Naomi felt his gaze on her as he said, “You grew up in the foster system. Have no close family. Your juvenile records are supposed to be sealed, but you did enjoy going on a joy ride or two back in the day, didn’t you, Naomi?”

Her spine stiffened. “I didn’t steal cars when I was a kid.” That had just been a lie told in order to get her transferred from one foster home to another. She’d been painted as the villain so someone else would be safe.

It never pays to be good.

She eyed the hammer. Did she need a weapon?

“You put yourself through college by waitressing. Got a degree in business. You were working as a manager at one of the fancy hotels in Vegas when you met Hudson.”

“Vegas is great. It hides all the sins in the world beneath a glossy surface.” She’d thought about going back to Vegas. Maybe if she got the property fixed up well enough, she’d sell it and not go with the bed and breakfast dream any longer. That dream sometimes felt like a weight around her.

“There was no more law breaking once you hit eighteen. In fact, you were quite the upstanding citizen in Vegas.”

Had she been? Maybe she’d gotten too boring for a time.

“You loved the party circuit. Were seen with plenty of movers and shakers. The rich and the elite.”

“Those were the people who visited my hotel.” She turned away from the hammer. “It’s called networking. A necessary part of the job.”

His head tilted to the side as he watched her.

“That’s all you know about me? Truly?” Naomi tsk-tsked him. “Very disappointing. And here I thought you’d have something dark and deep to share. Some earth-shattering details about my torrid past. You’ve just disappointed me.”

He strode toward her. Again, moving with that casual but dangerous grace. A predatory grace.

When he stopped before her, his scent teased her nose. A slightly woodsy, definitely masculine scent. She might have liked that scent a bit too much.

“Do you have something dark and deep buried in your past?” he asked.

She did. “Doesn’t everyone?” Now her hand rose and pressed to his chest. Instantly, that spark was flaring through her again.

Dammit. “Don’t you have something dark and deep that you hide?

” She knew he did. “How many people have you pretended to be over the years, Eb? How many personas have you adopted in order to bring down your targets?”

He blinked. “Hudson told you about that?”

Hudson had told her plenty. “You’re the master chameleon. You can adopt any accent. Become any person. Good. Bad. Everything in between. He told me that you speak five languages.”

“Six.”

“Wonderful for you.” She kept her hand over his chest. “You slip into hellholes. You dance with princesses. You can be anything and anyone. And you are relentless. You don’t stop until your goal is achieved.”

“I do like to be goal oriented.”

“What’s your goal now?” She wet her lips. “You’ve been staying away, you’ve barely spoken to me during our entire acquaintance—even when I stood at Hudson’s grave, you didn’t say a word to me. No sympathy, real or fake. You just watched me. Watched and didn’t speak.”

“Didn’t realize you even knew I was there.”

“I felt your stare on me.” Hard to explain, especially with so many other judgmental eyes on her. But there was something about Eb. His stare almost burned it was so intense. She’d felt it at her wedding. Felt it at the grave. Felt it now.

“You’re mad I didn’t approach you at the funeral.”

Mad wasn’t the right word. She was hurt, shattered, that not one person had stood at her side. Everyone had already been suspicious. So certain she was evil. What happened to the whole innocent until proven guilty bit?

“What did you want me to say?” His hand lifted. Not to cup her chin this time. But to slide over her cheek. His fingers slid into the thickness of her hair and his palm pressed lightly to her skin.

“Oh, you could have said the usual. So sorry for your loss. I think that’s what people are supposed to say at times like that.

Only, well, no one said that to me at all.

Instead, they whispered, and they gossiped.

And I stood alone.” Anger breathed in those words.

A mistake. Naomi hadn’t meant to let the anger out.

She backed away from him. One step. Two. She?—

He caught her hand. Pulled her back against him. “So sorry for your loss,” he told her. Only Eb didn’t sound particularly sorry. He sounded… pissed.

And the anger that she’d been battling blazed to life. The anger—no, the rage—as everyone judged her and felt such sympathy for Hudson. Hudson the absolute bastard. “You didn’t have any really good secrets on me. How about I give you one? I’ll be generous and share a killer secret with you.”

His eyes narrowed.

She pushed onto her toes. Tugged him closer toward her. Her mouth went to his left ear. “I’m glad he’s dead,” she whispered. Her lips feathered over his ear lobe. Her tongue gave him a quick, sensual lick. “Glad.”

His hands locked around her hips. Tried to. She slipped away. Took several steps to put needed space between them.

“Have a good night,” Naomi added. She was pleased that her voice now sounded normal.

No huskiness. “You can take the room at the top of the stairs. It’s the one I’ve already renovated.

Nothing but the best for Hudson’s partner.

” Her smile felt brittle. She tapped her leg, and Henry instantly moved to her side.

“I’ll be in the room next door to yours. ” She and Henry headed for the stairs.

Eb moved into her path. Of course, he would block her semi-dramatic exit. Leave it to him—he’d ruined her scene.

“You’re glad ? Glad your husband is gone?”

She hadn’t stuttered when she made the confession. Glad . “I wasn’t with Hudson when he died because I was leaving him. If he’d lived, our marriage would have been over.”

“You weren’t even married for twenty-four hours before he was found dead!”

True.

His gaze whipped around the house. “Why were you even here, on the property? Why not go to some lush honeymoon suite? Why stay at this rundown place?”

“This rundown place was going to be our home. We—I—wanted to spend the first night of our married life in the home we’d build together.” She swallowed. “Some dreams suck. My mistake.”

“No.” Adamant. His probing stare returned to her.“No. No, you don’t go from wanting to build a home with someone to wanting out of the marriage after one night?—”

“You do if it is one horror show of a night.” She rubbed her hand over Henry’s head.

Such a warm, steady presence. She’d missed Henry so much.

He was not just a dog. Never that. He was the reason she was alive.

So, yes, oh, yes, she would walk through hell to get him back any day of the week.

She’d face off against a dozen gang members if she could get Henry back.

“I’m keeping up my end of the deal. You helped me get Henry, and now you can crash here. Done.”

A muscle flexed along Eb’s clenched jaw. “I told you I was in town to find Hudson’s killer.”

“You did mention that.” Carefully cool.

“Don’t you want to find the bastard? Don’t you want to work with me to make the person who killed your husband pay?”

“Not particularly. But I could send the guy a thank-you basket.”

He blinked. “You aren’t serious.”

“I’ve moved on. You should, too. Let the dead rest.” She skirted around him. Henry shadowed her movements.

“You…hate him.”

She reached for the banister. She’d fixed that banister last week. The wood was smooth. Freshly stained a dark mahogany. Parts of the massive house were falling apart, yes, noted. But other parts showed such promise. “Is there a point in hating the dead?” She climbed two steps.

He snagged her arm.

She turned to face him. “Look, unless you are about to offer me unbelievable sex, I’m going to sleep.”

His hold tightened. “You talk about murder and sex in the same breath.”

“Some people are turned on by murder.” Twisted but true.

“Tell me, secret agent man, what turns you on? You said before that it was me. You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t quite buy that answer.

Perhaps you’re turned on by adrenaline. Or maybe it’s danger.

Thus, your occupation. I mean, you only take high-risks jobs in this world if you’re into the whole life-or-death scene, am I right? ”

His fingers stroked lightly over her skin. “You want to know what turns me on? We’re back to that?”

“Like I said, it’s obviously adrenaline and danger.

” She’d thought about this a lot on the drive home.

No way could he actually just want…her. “We had both of those tonight. So maybe that’s why the powerful heart of yours is racing wildly.

Because of the rush.” Not because of the way he felt about her. Certainly, not that.

Her heart also raced wildly. Was it from the events of the night? Or because Eb was touching her? Or maybe because she was just at the end of her rope?

He leaned toward her. One hand on the banister. One hand still holding her. “Answered you before. You. You’re what turns me on.”

He’d been…serious about that? No, no, she would not believe him. Could not. Eb was drop-dead handsome. He could have any woman he wanted with the crook of a finger.

“You turn me on.” Each word from him was bitten off. “And how fucked-up is that? To be turned on by the woman married to my partner? I fucking know I should keep my hands off you.”

Her heart raced even more now. Hello, palpitations.

“But all I want to do is touch you everywhere.”

Yes. Do it. Great idea. Let’s forget all the reasons this shouldn’t happen and have wild, dirty sex all night long. Oh, the temptation.

A dangerous temptation.

Because he was a dangerous man. One who could wreck the world that she was struggling to rebuild. “I’m not married to your partner.”

“No, you’re his widow. The Wicked Widow.”

At that moniker, Naomi tensed. That had been the name given to her by the local press. And picked up by the people online who were out for her blood.

Why?

Because they thought she was a killer.

“Do you want to fuck a killer, Eb?” She thought it was a fair question.

“Do you?” he returned.

Goosebumps skittered over her body. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smiled and that lethal grin stole her breath.

Holy hell, he had a dimple. Talk about an unfair and potentially lethal secret weapon.

Even as she was adjusting to the reality of that dimple—this was her first time to fully appreciate it—Eb told her, “I don’t play by typical rules.

I’m not nice. I’ve gotten my hands bloody plenty of times over the years.

Fuck me, and there will be no going back for you. ”

Right. She did not need to, ah, fuck anyone.

No matter how tempting Eb might be. But, because he was right there, and her position on the steps put her at the perfect level with him, she reached out and curled her arms around his shoulders.

“It’s nice to be with someone who doesn’t pretend with me.

I’m sick of lies.” The lies she told. The lies others told her.

“Hudson was a straight-up bastard. Sadistic. Twisted.”

A furrow appeared between Eb’s brows.

“He made my life hell. I am glad he’s dead.” The truth just kept pouring from her. It felt freeing. “You won’t believe me, of course. Everyone thought he was so perfect. And he was your friend. Your partner. He would tell me all about your great adventures together.”

“What do you mean…sadistic?”

She put her mouth on his. The kisses before had been rushed.

And maybe…maybe she thought that she could kiss him, and a real kiss would show that the passion wasn’t truly there between them.

That the sparks she felt when they touched wouldn’t ignite into a blaze.

Instead, they’d fizzle out with a real kiss.

His lips were open.

So were hers. Her tongue dipped into his mouth. Stroked. Teased. And he?—

A growl tore from him. His hands flew to curl around her hips as he hauled her toward him.

He took over the kiss. His lips, his tongue—he took.

He tasted. He claimed and the spark didn’t fizzle.

It erupted. A wildfire that pulsed through her veins.

She opened her mouth wider. Her fingers sank into his powerful shoulders. She knew this was wrong.

But Naomi didn’t care. She hadn’t kissed someone and felt this soaring passion in…in…

Ever.

She’d never kissed someone and felt this way. This consuming, lightning-fast need was what happened in movies. Books. Not real life. Certainly not her life.

Henry bumped into her leg.

Reality surged back. She pulled her head away from Eb. Her mouth.

“I want to fucking devour you,” Eb growled.

Same.

But then he was the one retreating. And something that could have been guilt…maybe even horror…came and went on his face in the blink of an eye.

A knot settled in her belly. “He’ll always be between us, huh?”

His jaw hardened.

“Good night, Eb.” She darted up the stairs. Henry followed her every movement. She turned at the top of the landing and headed toward her room.

“Tell me that you didn’t kill him.”

She looked back down at Eb. “I didn’t kill Hudson.” Easy words.

He frowned at her.

“Turn off the lights when you’re done down there, will you?” She could still taste him. “I’m trying not to have high electric bills.” An exhale. She put one foot in front of the other and got to her bedroom. Naomi shut the door once Henry was inside with her.

She could still taste Eb. Still feel him.

She could also hear her own words replaying through her mind.

I didn’t kill Hudson.

Did he think she was a liar? And why did what Eb thought matter so much?