Page 62 of Brutal Ice

Violet blinked.

His mouth quirked into a half-smile. For a moment, real amusement seemed to dance in his eyes. “What? Didn’t think some seedy club owner could know tech?”

“You’re not seedy.” She crept toward the desk.

“Sure, I am. Seedy. Dangerous. Manipulative. So many interesting adjectives apply to me.” A roll of his shoulders. “I told you before that, in a different life, I ran with a gang in New Orleans.”

Violet nodded.

“It was with them that I first realized I had a talent with tech. Don’t get me wrong, I was always an asshole gamer.” That mocking half-smile lingered on his lips. “But I went to a whole other level when I got access to equipment I needed.” Slowly, the smile faded. “Teachers used to tell me I had so much potential. They wanted me to enter competitions, they put me in all the AP classes. But they didn’t know what life was like when I left their school. They didn’t get that a different life controlled me. Beau—hell, he wanted me to cut out, too. He wanted me to go to college. He fought like hell for our freedom. He’d bought into the stories the teachers told. I remember that when I turned eighteen, he did this bullshit talk with me about how I was special. That I could do different things.” His gaze darted to the monitors. “I don’t think this is what he—or all those teachers—meant when they talked about me living up to my potential.”

Violet found herself taking another creeping step toward him. “Did you go to college?”

“For a while. I didn’t fit in there. Didn’t care about the football games and the frat parties. And I could already do one hell of a lot more with a computer than the professors could teach me.” A shrug. “So I went back to living life my way.”

Her gaze darted around the room. “Based on the house and the club and the expensive cars you seem to favor, living life your way has worked out for you.” Her stare returned to him. “How do you use the computers to help you hunt?”

“I tear into the lives of anyone I suspect when I’m looking for my prey.” A roll of one shoulder. “Because I’m an asshole, I routinely tear into the lives of the people who enter my world.” His gaze had come to lock on her. “Take you, for instance, Violet Murphy. I know everything about you now.”

She laughed.

He didn’t. But he did begin checking off items, as if going through a mental list. “Bra size. Shoe size. Bank account. Credit history. I know when you went on your last date. I know your favorite food.”

“That’s…” Violet stopped.

“Scary?”

“Well, yes, it is,” she admitted honestly. “You could have just asked me those things. I mean, ah, not my bra size. But…” She trailed away. “Why would you want to know all of that?”

“Because I’m trying to figure out why he took you. You look like his prey, yes, but I think there is more to it than just a surface attraction. I was trying to figure out that more.”

By learning everything about me. She swallowed. “There is nothing special about me.”

“Oh, I think there is. It’s not every woman who decides she wants to hunt killers. Most victims of crimes let the police do that job. They don’t want to get their hands dirty.” He opened the top desk drawer. Pulled something out. Curled his hand around it and skirted around the desk as he walked back toward her.

She didn’t retreat. She’d been heading toward him. Why retreat now?

“I keep expecting you to run.” A little furrow appeared between his brows, as if he couldn’t quite understand her. “I tell you my secrets. I scare you. But you still stay.”

Yes, she did. “I’m not going anywhere.” Her head tilted back so she could stare up at him.

“You should be pissed at me for tearing into your life.”

Maybe. “I would have freely told you anything you wanted to know. No tearing necessary.”

His jaw hardened. Then his hand lifted. There was a faint snick. And she realized the item he’d taken from the desk drawer had been a knife.

The blade had slid out. Gleaming. Sharp. Deadly.

And he was pointing the knife right at her.

“Scared?” A rasp.

“You aren’t going to hurt me.”

“I hurt a lot of people.” Grim. “But, no, never you. I’d cut off my own fucking hand first.” Then he reached for her hand. Royal curled her fingers around the knife’s handle. “I saw the mace and the taser in your bag. But I want you keeping this on you at all times.”

She started to nod.

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