Page 111 of Brutal Ice

She didn’t blanch. Didn’t draw back in horror. She just watched him and waited.

“Sweetheart.” He found himself leaning toward her. “Shouldn’t you be getting scared right now?”

Her hand rose to touch his cheek. He’d shaved cleanly that morning, and her palm pressed to his skin. “Sweetheart,” Violet said softly, huskily, “why do you look at me like you’re the one who is scared?”

Because I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want you to leave me. And I’m scared you will go running. Sooner or later, didn’t everyone run? “They’re not my family,” he said. Hell. Talk about a conversational jump.

She went right on touching him. Staring at him with those gorgeous eyes that seemed to see right into his soul.

“Some reporter dug up my past. Found out that I was dumped in New Orleans. No family to ever claim me. And that same reporter knows I have money to burn these days.” His lips twisted. “So the orphan boy who is suddenly a hero…” Or a villain, depending on who told the story. “He’s got people coming out of the woodwork, claiming to be family.”

“Like the man behind the theater. The guy in the gray suit.”

“Yeah, like him,” Royal agreed. “Only that jackass and the people like him aren’t my real family. They’re just after some cash.” Opportunists who’d come rushing for a potential payday. “My family abandoned me long ago, and they never looked back.” A stark truth.

“Did you ever look for them?”

He sucked in a breath.

“You’re such a good hunter,” she added as her soft palm pressed against him. “Did you hunt for them? You must have.”

She did know him well. He’d looked. Not because he wanted them to take him back with open arms and tear-stained cheeks, but because he’d wanted to know who the hell they were. “There wasn’t anything to find. I was thrown away. Left like garbage. No one came for me while I was growing up. Just Beau. He was there.” The brother that fate had given to him. “I did look some, when I was older, but there was nothing to find. It was like I’d never existed before that day.” Tell her. Tell. Her. “I used to think I was thrown away because my family knew that I wasn’t good enough for them.”

“Royal…”

“I killed Will Kelly.” Flat. “The cops aren’t ever going to find enough evidence to convict me, but I did it. I pulled the trigger, and I ended his life.”

She…moved forward. Hugged him.

His hands hovered in the air above her. Afraid to touch her, in case he’d break her. “Violet?”

“Hug me back,” she ordered him.

He did. “I just told you I killed a man.” She shouldn’t ask him to hug her in response.

“You told me that, yes. And yet you didn’t kill the other two predators. You left them alive. That means something happened with Will that was different,” she said into his shirtfront. “Did he attack you? Was he about to kill another girl? Who did you save?”

“Beau.” Raspy. Rusty. “Will was going to shoot at Beau. Beau came to try and stop me from doing something stupid.” A broken laugh escaped him. “Story of our lives. And there was a young girl there. Beau was getting her out, Will got a gun, and he was going to shoot my brother.” My family. “I couldn’t let it happen.”

“So you fired your gun.”

“Yes.”

“Did you leave any evidence behind?”

Another laugh. “Baby, I told you, they won’t ever be able pin that on me. They have suspicions, but nothing will stick.” The gun he’d used was long gone. No one would ever recover it. He knew how to cover his tracks.

She eased back. Peered up at him. “You’re that good?”

No, I’m that bad. “You will run from me.”

“Why are you so certain of that?”

“Because you deserve better than me.”

“Stop it.” Anger roughened her voice.

Surprise had him blinking.

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