Page 69 of Cruel Ice

He shook his head. Darkness covered the bedroom. Shadows. But her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she could see him just fine.I’m not afraid of the dark any longer.

“You didn’t kill your father in cold blood.” She knew this truth with utter certainty. “I read the reports.”

“Courtesy of yourfriendlydetective.”

Oh, was that a bite of jealousy? It just might have been. “Yep, courtesy of him. When your father died, he’d been attacking you. You had four broken ribs. You had bruises all over your chest. You had two broken fingers, plus a fractured wrist. And your father had taken his knife and sliced your face.” Her head tipped forward, and her hair slid over her shoulders. “I saw the pictures. I saw what he’d done to you.”

“Fucking Detective Ellis.”

“Your father was beating you, Declan. If you hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed you!”

He shot up. Rolled them. Had her beneath him on the bed. He braced his body on his arms as he loomed over her. His legs were between her spread thighs. His strong form dominating hers. “I wasn’t going to let him kill me.” Cold. Calm.

But he didn’t feel cold. The heat from his body practically singed her.

“I took the hits from him. I fucking took them like I’d always taken them. He liked giving pain. I’d done something that pissed him off. Gotten a ninety-five on a test when I should have gotten a hundred.”

Her lips parted.

“I had to be perfect. Nothing less was acceptable. Not for Conor Flynn’s son.”

Tears stung her eyes.

“So he hit me. And I took it and then…then I didn’t.” Flat. Still so cold. “I realized I wasn’t ever going to justtake itfrom him again.”

There is nothing cold about Declan. I know it. The coldness in his voice is a lie. The colder he is, the hotter my Declan burns.

“He used his boot to break my ribs. He was getting ready to kick me again when I rolled. I caught his foot. I jerked the bastard to the floor.” A heave of Declan’s breath. “He fell. The knife slid from his fingers, and I grabbed it. In the next instant, I had that knife at his throat. His eyes went so wide. I swear, I think the bastard lookedproudfor a moment.”

She wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him but…

His hands had moved. They’d curled around her wrists. He pinned her hands to the bed. Almost as if he was afraid she would touch him.

“Then he started to bleed. Don’t know if anyone had ever made Conor Flynn bleed before that night. He didn’t like it. He told me to stop. Tried to shove me away. Only I was done being shoved by him.”

His words still held no emotion.

But I can feel his rage and his pain and I wish I could take it all away.

“He twisted and punched. I fought back. I used his knife, and I drove it into his stomach. Then drove it in his shoulder. He screamed for me to stop. Hebeggedfor me to let him go.”

Her body had gone taut.

“I didn’t. I didn’t let go. He tried to headbutt me. We shoved and punched and the next thing I knew…the knife was in his heart.”

“Declan.”

He brought his face close to hers. “I drove a knife into my father’s heart.”

“He washurtingyou. You were sixteen! You had to protect yourself.”

“He begged me to let him go. Even as he begged, I knew I was killing him. I wasn’t ever going to let him hurt me again. Not me. Not anyone else. And you want to know the last fucking thing he said?”

What she wanted was to wrap her arms around him and never, ever let go.

“My mother’s name. And hesmiled.He shouldn’t have smiled when he died. He should have been terrified. Hell was waiting, and hesmiled.”

Her wrists twisted in his hold. “Let me go.”

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