Ice Cold Read Free

deeply.
    Not that Rafael Navarro would get even a hint how deeply affected she was now. She did her job, didn’t fraternize with anyone she worked with, and minded her own business.
    “Recognize the weapon?”
    “I gave him that knife for his birthday last year—” Too personal. “What are you doing here?”
    “Control notified me that Jack’s wife called in to say he had the flu and couldn’t meet me.”
    “He’s divorced.”
    “Yeah,” he agreed dryly. “I know. It sent up a red flag. What do we know?”
    “I counted thirty-seven stab wounds- Unlikely an accurate count considering the amount of fluids and how close together the puncture wounds are,” she admitted, hating not being one hundred percent accurate before she reported anything. “The one to the heart killed him. He suffered before he died. Someone took their time.” It was almost impossible to be hardened when the person in question was someone she knew and respected. The thought of Jake suffering like this made nausea roll, and she swallowed, because damn it, she would not puke in front of Navarro. “Alarms disabled.” He’d opened the front door to the killer, expecting Honey.
    When she’d fought with Navarro earlier, most of the blood had come off her hands, but she could still feel it between her fingers. Turning slightly away from him, she grabbed a slouchy, black leather tote from a nearby table, removed hand sanitizer, and wipes, and proceeded to clean up methodically. The adrenaline rush was starting to fade, and Honey was annoyed to find her hands shaking. She didn’t want Navarro knowing how freaked out she was over Jack’s violent death.
    She turned to find him watching her. Before she thought it through in her usual methodical way, Honey strode back to him, reached up, and fisted his shirt, tugging him down to eye level. His eyes were almost black, illuminated by the overhead chandelier.
    “Kiss me,” she demanded, twisting her fingers in the soft cotton to yank him closer. He angled his head, obediently pressing his mouth to hers. His lips were firm and cool. He tasted of something dark and unknown.
    She did not climax.

TWO
     I  nteresting.” She stepped back, clearly not finding the kiss that interesting at all.
    “Wasn’t it though?” he said dryly. He’d found that brief brush of lips intriguing to say the least.
    “The Garbage detail should be here in a few,” she said, voice crisp and even. “I’ll do another walk-through while we wait.”
    “Have at it.” Rafael motioned for her to take the hallway to the left, and she stalked off, ponytail bouncing against her black sweater. He bet she’d be annoyed at how deceptively cute and perky that ponytail made her look.
    Ice Princess.
    Honey Winston was that minus a couple of degrees.
    Not ice water in her veins. Liquid nitrogen.
    That unexpected kiss held zero warmth. Experimental.
    Then why, he asked himself, intrigued, had he felt a surge of heat, a white-hot spark of awareness as her cool lips touched his? He’d never been a glutton for punishment, and Winston looked like she was capable of administering punishment in spades, and with cool efficiency.
    She looked Nordic with that pale hair and those icy blue eyes, but Frosty was as American as apple pie. Despite rolling about on the floor, fighting for her life, her hair remained scooped in a neat, simple ponytail. On her, it looked casually chic. A light sweater, with the feel of expensive cashmere, clung enticingly to her full breasts. Long legs, clad in slim, black pants, and tucked into the knee-high, glossy black leather, high-heeled boots had been wrapped around his throat just minutes before.
    She was a dangerous package, this Honey Winston.
    Rafe had never met a woman with a more direct gaze. Oh, yeah—one other. However, Catherine “Savage” Seymour, rogue ex T-FLAC operative direct look always gave him a weird chill up the back of his neck. Winston’s cool, blue gaze whispered a whole other