Page 26 of Brutal Ice

“I was hunting the killer.” Again, Royal’s voice was flat.

Violet’s shoulders stiffened. She spun toward him. One of her dress’s delicate straps slid off her shoulder.

“I didn’t kidnap you. I didn’t ever plan to hurt you.” Except, in her eyes, he saw hurt. Pain. Betrayal. “I was after him.”

Her terrified gaze darted around the room. From Royal to Beau to Avalon…then back to Royal.

“You weren’t supposed to be there. But when I saw you and you asked for help, I couldn’t leave you.” His hands fisted even tighter. “I took you away, but that meant he got away, too. And he’s still out there.” He backed up. Focused his attention down on the photos that were scattered across his desk. “This is what he does. He takes something beautiful, and he wrecks it. He would have wrecked you.” No one can do that. The idea that someone could take her. Use a knife on her…No.

Rage beat within him. The dark and hot rage that had haunted him when he was a punk kid who didn’t belong any damn place. The one people had called trash because he’d been fucking thrown away on a New Orleans street. No one had even known his real name.

No one had cared about him.

He’d grown up. They still hadn’t cared. But they had learned to fear him.

He’d almost come to enjoy the fear. People didn’t mess with what they feared. Fear could lead to respect. Power. Except…

I didn’t want Violet afraid of me.

But you didn’t always get what you wanted in this world. Hadn’t he learned that, so long ago? Back when he’d been a foolish kid, hoping that his parents would come find him. That there had been a mistake. That he should never have been thrown away.

Only I was.

“I think we need some serious de-escalation here.” Avalon sounded all calm and poised. Like they were having freaking tea or something. Hardly surprising, though. Avalon spent too many days and nights interviewing killers. It took a whole lot to knock past her control.

Sympathy flashed on Avalon’s face. “Violet, I am sure this scene is incredibly unsettling for you.”

Violet shot her a look of utter disbelief.

Avalon winced. “Especially in light of, uh, what we interrupted earlier. You’re undoubtedly feeling a rush of emotions. Fear. Betrayal. You don’t know me. You certainly don’t trust me. And given that you are probably suffering from PTSD?—”

“Screw this,” Violet threw out. “Screw it.” She whirled back for the door. Flipped the lock and?—

“I hunt down killers because the cops aren’t catching them.” Royal’s voice wasn’t so flat any longer. It was hard with the intensity that burned within him. “I was at the old winery that night because I was hunting the man who killed those other women. I didn’t know he’d taken another victim, not until I heard you in the trunk. You weren’t my prey that night. He was.”

She looked back over her shoulder.

“Royal has done this before,” Avalon added. “You might have even seen the stories in the news. You know about Everett Thomas? The Slasher?”

Violet’s eyes widened. “He…he was found tied up for the cops. With a…” She licked her lips. “A bow tied around his neck.”

“Someone has a bit of a sick sense of humor.” Avalon rocked forward onto the balls of her feet. “Everett Thomas wasn’t the first killer discovered that way.”

Violet’s eyes whipped back to Royal. Then to Avalon.

“The cops want to find the vigilante who has been beating them to the killers—and leaving those perps with red bows around their necks. The authorities aren’t exactly looking to give him a big reward. Unless, of course, you count that reward as jail time.” Avalon’s brows climbed. “So, in light of that, you might understand why Royal wasn’t rushing into a police station with you. His appearance would have raised all kinds of questions.”

Royal was sure that Violet had plenty of questions. “I was not there to hurt you,” he said again. She needed to know that.

She looked at him, then away. Too fast. As if she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Been there, done that before. His chin lifted.

Beau cleared his throat. “You protected him before. You didn’t tell the cops anything about him. We know.” He gestured toward Avalon. “We, ah, have some contacts who filled us in. You told the cops that you were in and out of it because of the blow to your head. That the escape and drive by the Good Samaritan were all a blur. Since Royal knew where to park his ride so that no security cameras would pick him up, the cops have nothing on him.”

“That’s why you parked so far away,” she murmured. “You were avoiding cameras?”

He’d avoided them all through the city. No traffic cams would have picked him up.

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