Page 2 of Brutal Ice

She thought he was the killer.

Royal shook his head. “No.” He scooped her out of the trunk. Into his arms. Heard her gasp. Barely felt the slight weight of her in his arms. Then, staring down at her, Royal said something that he had never, ever expected to say, “I’m going to save you.”

He’d learned long ago that you couldn’t save the world. Sometimes, it was just better to watch the world fucking burn. But, this one time, he could save this one woman.

Can’t leave her behind. Don’t know where he is on the property. If I leave her and hunt for him, he could circle back. Could kill her while I’m searching for him.

With his teeth grinding together, Royal hurriedly made his way back through the darkness. He’d stashed his ride about a mile away. He hadn’t wanted to alert his prey, so he’d gone in silently. She didn’t struggle against him during that mile-long walk. Didn’t move at all. Hell, the woman barely seemed to breathe. He’d turned off his light, but he still gripped it on one hand even as he carried her. Royal kept his body battle-ready. If the prick who’d taken her came at him with an attack…

I’ll be vulnerable with her. She’ll make me weak.

He couldn’t afford weakness. Actually, he freaking hated weakness. Better to just eliminate the weakness as soon as possible.

The insects had gone quiet. The fact registered even as Royal froze. Very, very slowly, his head turned to look back at the path he’d just taken.

Only darkness stared back at him.

“If…if you cut the tape from my ankles, I can walk.” A breathless whisper. “You don’t have to carry me. I-I can?—”

“Run from me?” he rasped. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking like a leaf. You’re obviously scared as hell of me.” Royal kept walking. “I cut that tape now, and you’ll run, and you’ll probably run straight into him. He’ll shove his knife in your gut, and then my Good Samaritan efforts will be for jack and shit.”

She shuddered even harder in his arms. She also, he noted, didn’t deny that she’d run. As if he hadn’t been able to figure that out.

“I’m not the one who took you,” he said, voice barely a breath. “I’m saving your sweet ass.”

Then there were no more words because every instinct he had was screaming at him. Royal was used to being the predator. But with her in his arms, with the hair on the nape of his neck rising, he swore in that instance…

Prey.

Hell, no. He never wanted to be prey.

His black Lexus waited up ahead. He eased the mystery woman to her feet—she nearly fell so he kept a grasp on her waist—and he opened the passenger door to ease her inside. “Don’t try to get away,” he ordered softly when he had her settled on the seat.

He heard the click of her swallow. Right. Probably the wrong thing to say.

Royal rushed around the car. Slid inside. Shut his own door and turned to face her.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“I’m your hero for the night.”

“That’s…” A slow exhale. “Not a name.”

Indeed, it wasn’t. “This is how we’re going to play things…I’ll drop you off at the nearest police station, and, in return for me saving your life, you will forget my face completely.” He pulled out his knife. “Deal?”

Her eyes were on the knife.

Hell. “I suck at the saving business.” Because he was clearly just terrifying her more when he’d actually meant to be semi-reassuring. “Hands.”

“Wh-what?”

“Give me your hands, sweetheart.” The endearment just sort of rolled out. Another vague effort to be reassuring? Gruffly, Royal added, “Give me your hands unless you want to ride all the way to the police station with them still bound.”

She shoved her hands toward him.

Carefully, because he did not want to so much as nick her, Royal eased the blade between her bound wrists. One quick slice, and he had the tape open. He pulled it off her wrists, then rubbed her skin. The tape had been tight as hell, so she had to be experiencing some pain as feeling rushed back to her fingers.

“Thank you.” Soft.

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