Page 37 of Brutal Ice

“The cops will come,” Royal spoke faster, and he kept holding the knife. A knife in one hand. A gun tucked at his waist. “They’ll have plenty of questions. They’ll want to know who the fuck I am and why I’m staying with you. We need to deliver the same story to them.”

She inched closer to him.

“We met tonight. I paid for the dance with you at the fundraiser. We hit it off. Met up at my club. You invited me here. We were…” He stopped. His nostrils flared. “We were together when the alarm went off. Tell them we were together every moment, understand?”

She threw her body against his. Her hand curled behind his neck, and she pulled his head down toward her. Their mouths collided. Lips. Tongue. The kiss wasn’t soft and teasing. It was demanding and savage and stark. The way that she felt.

And he kissed her back the same way. His arm wrapped around her. Did he still grip the knife? She didn’t know. Didn’t care. He was kissing her. She was kissing him. The killer had come for her. But Royal had been there.

The second time his presence had saved her.

The second time…

Sirens shrieked in the night.

Royal’s head slowly lifted. “I need to drop the knife and ditch the gun.”

His words didn’t quite make sense at first.

“Or else they’ll think I’m the bad guy.” He kissed her again. “What the fuck am I going to do with you?” he whispered against her lips.

“Save me,” she said. But, he already had.

“Always.”

The knife hit the floor.

Chapter Eight

“More free publicity. You realize, of course, that Micah and the other bigwigs are about to lose their shit.” Simone dipped into a low stretch. “Ticket sales are apparently insane, and with you leading the news again this morning because of the vandalism at your place…” She slowly straightened her spine. “We are going to be sold out every single night.”

Violet remained stretched out on the stage. “So glad that my personal tragedies can help the show.”

Simone winced. “Okay, yeah, sorry, I sounded like a completely unsympathetic bitch, didn’t I?” She hurried toward Violet. Did a split in front of her before she bent to grab the toes of her right foot. “But at least you weren’t alone.” Her head turned as she maintained the pose, and she grinned at Violet. “Have you been holding out on me? Since when are you dating mysterious club owners and bringing them home with you?”

The news hadn’t just been splashing her image onto the screen. They’d captured footage of Royal leaving her house. Correction, of her and Royal leaving. His arm had been wrapped around her. His clothes had been wrinkled and very clearly the same ones that he must have worn the previous night.

Everyone in town who’d watched the footage would believe that she was sleeping with Royal. It was what the cops on scene had believed.

It was clearly what Simone believed.

And it was exactly what Royal wanted everyone to believe. Violet cleared her throat. “You’re the one always telling me that I need to stop living like a nun.”

Simone let go of her foot. She arched her back, rotated, and pinned her bright eyes on Violet. “There’s living like a nun…” Her voice carried only to Violet. “And then there’s jumping into the deep end before you know how to swim.”

Or how to fuck.

Violet’s chin lifted. She got exactly what Simone was telling her.

“That’s a man who doesn’t play around,” Simone warned softly. “I think you need to be careful with him.”

“I know what I’m doing with Royal.” No, she did not. At all.

“I hope so.” Simone’s face softened. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Thanks, I?—”

“Practice time, people!” Micah clapped his hands. “I want a complete run-through of the production today. Special effects. All props. Impeccable timing. Lace up the shoes. Drink your water. And get your asses in motion.”

---