Page 38 of Brutal Ice

Violet rose to her feet. Her head moved in a small circle as she tried to work the kinks out of her neck.

Micah stopped in front of her. Surveyed her. His lips tightened. “You look like shit.”

Anger stirred inside of her. “Thanks, Micah. No, please, don’t worry about me. The incident at my house doesn’t have me rattled at all, and I got plenty of sleep.”

“You took home a man you just met, Violet. I’m sure you weren’t getting much sleep even without the rock hurtling through your window.” He tapped his chin. “Are you up to the rehearsal today? If not, Simone can step in.”

“I’m good.” She needed this. But…

I also want to be with Royal. Hunting down the bastard who took me. Surely, Royal wouldn’t hunt without her? They were supposed to be a team.

Only they hadn’t exactly discussed a thorough game plan.

“I don’t need you to be good.” Micah shook his head. “I need you to be perfection. Anything less won’t cut it for me. Can you give me what I want?”

Such a demanding asshole. When she became an artistic director in charge of her own show, she would never be like him. And that was the plan. To step away from the spotlight and to be in charge of the performances. This show was going to be her last lead.

“Violet?” he pushed.

She flashed a hard smile his way. “Perfection. Coming right up.”

“That’s what I love about you.”

Simone waited until Micah strolled away, then she closed in on Violet. “That man is such a dick.”

Violet agreed.

“Totally makes me regret those three…no, four times I slept with him.”

Violet looked at her friend and raised her brows.

“What?” Simone shrugged. “He’s straight, gorgeous, and actually really good in bed. He’s also a super bastard. That’s the way nature works. Can’t have it all.” She pointed at Violet. “That’s why I’m telling you now…your mystery club owner? He’s gonna have some serious flaws. He doesn’t get to be gorgeous and rich without having some major skeletons hiding in the closet. There will be red flags, mark my words.”

Oh, he had a few red flags.

Like the fact that he seemed to enjoy hunting down killers.

“You’re fucking the woman you saved?”

Royal had expected that to be the first question Beau asked. He’d gone straight to LeBlanc’s, his brother’s riverfront bar, because he knew a reckoning was at hand.

When Royal entered LeBlanc’s, Beau had been standing behind the counter. A wall of the best whiskeys in the world waited behind him. When it came to his whiskey, Beau spared no expense.

“Caught the news story.” Beau crossed his arms over his chest. “Me and everyone else. You were at her house last night.”

“I was protecting her.”

“Do tell.”

He crossed to the counter. Flattened his hands on the top. “You really think you’re in a position to lecture me about wanting to protect someone? Try that bit with someone else. I know how long and how closely you guarded Avalon.”

Beau’s eyes narrowed. “Completely different.”

Was it? “You stalked the woman for years?—”

Beau surged toward him. “I was watching her ass! The arsonist who nearly killed Avalon wasn’t caught. Someone had to keep her safe.”

And, of course, the fact that Beau had been in love with his Avalon ever since a very long ago night when he’d saved her from a fire in New Orleans—a fire that had occurred when Beau was just a teen—well, Royal supposed that was irrelevant? Whatever. He forced a shrug. “The killer who kidnapped Violet wasn’t caught. Someone has to keep her safe.” He sent his brother a tight smile. “Guess you and I are more alike than you thought, huh?”

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