Page 123 of Brutal Ice

Curran nodded and headed for Royal. He waved a hand toward the one-way mirror. “I’ll be on the other side. Just me.” He paused in front of Royal. “His name’s Declan Flynn. No criminal background.”

That could just mean he’d gotten away with his crimes.

“He’s from Chicago,” Curran added. “Runs some sort of tech company up there.”

Vague curiosity stirred within Royal.

“He’s also a bit of an asshole,” Curran disclosed. “Just so you’re aware.”

“More than a bit,” Declan admitted. “It’s been a lifelong problem.”

Good to know.

Royal moved to the side. Then he advanced into the interrogation room, but his gaze cut back to the detective.

Curran skimmed his stare over Violet. “You sure you want to be here?”

“I’m with Royal.”

“Yeah, thought you’d say something like that. Protective.” Shaking his head, he eased past her. “Number one necessary trait in a mate.” He exited.

Violet shut the door behind the detective. Then she moved to Royal’s side.

“Guess you two are a package deal, huh?” Declan crossed his arms over his chest. “So, which of you killed the guy in the club? Who pulled the trigger that ended his life?”

“Does it matter?” Violet asked. Her voice was carefully flat.

“It was me,” Royal said. Like he’d ever let Violet carry any unnecessary weight on her shoulders.

Her head whipped toward him.

“My bullet went in his head, baby.” Exactly where he’d aimed. “Yours went in the wall about a foot to the side.” The crime scene techs had already dug out the bullet from the wall. “But you did slice one beautiful hole in the guy’s thigh with your knife.” A knife that had been taken into evidence. No worries, he would just get her another.

“Do you often eliminate serial killers?” Declan asked in the tone one would use to inquire about the weather.

“Everyone needs a hobby.” Royal faced the man he’d never expected to see. “Guessing that prick at the back of the theater—the one in the expensive gray suit—was acting on your behalf?”

An incline of Declan’s head. His hair was little shorter than Royal’s. “Thought we could set up a meeting. All civilized-like.”

“I don’t really do civilized,” Royal informed him.

“I did notice that.” A faint smile teased Declan’s lips but was gone in a blink. “I followed you to the club. I was talking to the guard at your door, convincing him that I needed to be let inside.” An exhale. “I owe you both an apology. If I hadn’t been distracting him, then your serial killer wouldn’t have gotten around the building and slipped inside. The day could have ended differently.”

Royal doubted much would have been different. Leo Barnes had needed to die. But Violet getting hurt? Violet being at risk for even a single second? Yeah, that shit should have been different.

“Saw your story on the news.” Declan rolled back his shoulders. Seemed as comfortable and casual as could be. As if he lingered in interrogation rooms all the time. “Actually, my guy James saw it. James was the suit at the theater, by the way. One look, and he knew who you were.”

“I’m Royal Boudreaux.” He knew exactly who he was.

Declan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Maybe he wasn’t as comfortable as he appeared. “Once upon a time, you were Garrison Flynn.”

Royal took a step back.

Instantly, Violet’s hand was around his. Squeezing.

His stare flew to her. “I’m Royal Boudreaux,” he said again.

“You’re Royal Boudreaux,” she repeated. “You’re the man I love.”

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