Page 78 of Brutal Ice

If the prick had been watching the Lincoln arrive, he would only have seen Violet. No one else in the car with her. About two miles from the destination, Royal and Violet had stopped so he could slide into the trunk. No way did he want to risk being seen and blowing things to hell and back. After he’d gotten in the trunk, Violet had driven the rest of the way to their destination. Royal had instructed Violet to park the car in such a way that the trunk would be hidden so he could make his escape.

And she had. She’d parked the rear of the vehicle right against an overgrown patch of bushes. Plenty of shadow and hiding space for Royal. He crouched in the darkness, and his gaze swept around the decrepit gas station.

“Simone!” Violet’s desperate voice.

He stiffened. His gaze instantly zeroed in on her. Violet was crawling under an ancient, barely lifted garage door. Dammit, not good. If she got inside there, she’d be separated from him.

He rushed forward, still sticking to the darkness and cloaking his body. Violet.

But then Violet’s legs disappeared. She’d made it into the garage.

And the garage door lowered with a groan and screech of metal on metal.

Sonofabitch. So much for Royal’s well-laid plans. Time for the option B. Go in with guns blazing. Good thing he’d come packing.

Violet clambered to her feet just as the door shuddered down behind her. Her breath heaved in and out. She still clutched her phone. And her knife. The knife was hidden in the palm of her right hand while her left hand held tightly to the phone. “Is someone here?” Violet called out. Someone had to be there. The jerk who’d opened and closed the old door.

Did she hear the faintest rustle of a footstep?

Her light swung back to the trunk of the car. Not closed. The lid of the trunk was open, maybe just an inch. Her breath heaved in and out as Violet advanced toward the trunk. “Simone?”

No answer.

It’s a trap. I know it’s a trap. He opened the door for me. I crawled inside. And now he wants me to go toward the trunk. Maybe he was waiting to shove her inside. Or maybe he was waiting to shove a knife into her back when she moved forward.

So…

She didn’t move. For an instant, Violet just froze. Think. Figure this out.

“I know you took Simone!” Her voice was clear. Calm. “Just like you took me. And Marcella White. Bailey Brown. Fiona Law.” Deliberately, she said their names. “I know what you’ve been doing. Watching us all. Taking us when you think no one else is around to see. You hide in the shadows—just like you’re hiding now—and you steal us away from our lives. You bring us to the middle of nowhere, and then you take our lives away completely.”

Another faint rustle. From the right. She turned that way. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was a rat. Her chin lifted.

I’m not alone. Royal has my back.

“You’re not taking my life away,” Violet told him. “You’re not taking Simone’s life away. You’re?—”

His soft laughter stopped her. The laughter was low and mocking and it came from the darkness just a few feet away.

She stiffened even more. Her spine was so straight it almost hurt.

“Simone is your friend.” His voice came to her. Low. Rasping. Disguised?

“Y-yes.”

“Yet she traded your life for hers.”

Violet’s heart shoved into her chest.

“She’s gone. And you’re here with me. Now we’ll finish what we started when I had you at the winery.”

Gone?

Violet shook her head.

“Aw, so sweet. You think a friend wouldn’t do that? She did. She left you all alone.”

It was him. The bastard who’d taken her. He was right there. He thought he’d been the one making the trap. But they’d pulled him out into the open. “I’m not alone.” Soft. Husky. Had he heard those words from her?

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