Page 6 of Brutal Ice

He turned the vehicle. Headed down another long, dark stretch of road. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Who are you?” And he hadn’t been serious. Right? Right?

“Savior. Get-away driver. Ass kicker.”

“That’s…still not your name.”

“A name doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does to me.”

She saw his jaw harden. “If I give you a name, you’ll have to give it to the cops.”

“I…” Okay, she might. Quite likely.

“You’re an oversharer. Kinda cute, in an odd way.”

Her brows shot up. “I’m riding a whole lot of adrenaline right now, so just excuse me if I talk too much.” It’s been a killer night, all right? “I am not normally like this. In fact, I don’t normally share personal details at all. Even with close friends.”

Soft laughter. Deep. Warm. Sexy.

Nope. There it was again. The descriptor that should not be there. Sexy. “How did you find me?”

“Would you believe I was just out for a stroll and happened upon you?”

She shook her head. Then realized he couldn’t see the movement because he was looking at the road while she was looking at him. “No, I don’t think I would believe that.”

“Good. Because that would be a total bullshit lie.”

She peered down at her fingers. “Why won’t they stop shaking?” Though it wasn’t just her fingers that shook. Her whole body trembled.

“You’re in shock. Probably have a concussion. Adrenaline and fear are tearing you apart on the inside, but you are doing a damn fine job of holding your shit together. Really. Bravo.”

She jerked.

“So talk to me if you want,” he invited, voice almost lazy. “Tell me your secrets. Tell me your fears. Tell me anything you want. But don’t expect the same from me. I’m a shadow in your life, and that is all I will ever be. When I leave you at the police station, forget me.”

I don’t think I could forget you if I tried. Tears slid down her cheeks.

“Talk to me, Violet.”

“He was going to kill me, wasn’t he?”

“I won’t let that happen.” A vow.

But…

He hadn’t denied it. I was supposed to die.

Her hands balled into fists. “I’ve been dancing since I was six years old. My dad died that year, and my mom was trying to distract me, I think. She signed me up for lessons. Signed my brothers up for taekwondo. Baseball. Had us all so busy we didn’t have a minute to let the tears take us.” Tears were taking her right then. “My first show was The Nutcracker, and I was a mouse.” Dawson had called her a rat. Parker had told her she was a cute mouse.

“Bet you were fucking fantastic.”

A startled laugh escaped her. How can I laugh now? “I was terrible. I fell off the stage.”

A rumble came from him. Laughter that was deep and warm.

Without thinking, she reached out and her hand touched his arm. The surge hit her without warning. An electric charge that pulsed up her arm and throughout her whole body. Scared, she snatched her hand back.

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