Page 4 of Brutal Ice

Her fingers stopped inching.

How had he even realized what she was doing? His gaze seemed to be staring straight ahead.

“And if you go killing yourself, you’ll undo all of my good work.”

Was it her imagination? Or had there been mockery in his voice when he said “good” just then? “I’m not jumping out.”

“Excellent to know.” A deep, dark rumble of sound.

She licked her lips. “I’m Violet,” she said again. “And you are…?”

“The man driving you to the police station.”

“Promise?” The word just slipped from her. And it cracked with both fear and hope.

She saw his fingers—broad and strong—tighten around the steering wheel. “Promise.” Still growled but somehow less harsh.

Not that there seemed to be a lot about her savior that wasn’t harsh. When he’d opened the trunk and shone his flashlight on her, she’d been sure that she was doomed.

Too big. Too strong. She’d stared up at his shadowy form and known that he’d overpower her in an instant. Fear had nearly choked her. All she’d wanted was to escape and she’d asked him…Are you going to kill me?

His answer had sent shock rolling through her. Before she’d fully recovered from that shock, he’d been carrying her through the darkness at double-time speed. He hadn’t even seemed winded by what had seemed like at least a mile traveling with her cradled in his arms.

She’d just told him her name because—even though he said he was there to save her, and even though he said he was taking her to the cops—she was still afraid to trust him. So she’d been trying to humanize herself. Not just be some random victim. In case he is the bad guy, and this is some psychological BS game that he’s playing with me. A game where he gave her hope, only to snatch it away.

By offering him her name, she wasn’t just some faceless woman to kill. She was Violet Murphy. And she had a life. “I have two brothers. Both older. Parker is deployed, and I haven’t heard from him in six months.” Her words tumbled out. “But my other brother Dawson lives in town. He runs a real estate company. I, um, I’m a dancer.”

“Why in the hell are you telling me this?”

“So you won’t kill me.” An immediate response.

His head turned toward her.

She automatically squeezed her eyes shut.

“And why are you closing your eyes?” he gritted.

“Because I’m scared this is some sick game. You’re making me think I’m going to leave, that I’m going to get away and go home, but it’s just a trick so you can rip the hope away from me.”

The car braked. Hard. Hard enough that she shoved forward, and the seatbelt cut into her shoulder. And then…

His fingers curled around her chin.

“I promise I won’t play sick games…with you.”

She could feel the rough texture of his callused fingers against her skin.

“I can’t say the same about the sonofabitch who took you.”

Her eyes flew open.

His face was close to hers. The light from the instrument panel spilled into the front of the car. She’d seen his features under the moonlight as he carried her. She glimpsed them now and again had the same thought…

Dangerous. Deadly.

“I’m not mind-fucking you, sweetheart. I’m saving your life. Though I can see where you might get confused. Good deeds are new for me.”

His face was so close to hers. His mouth close. And she was seriously screwed up because she was staring into his eyes and thinking…

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