Page 66 of Ice Cold Christmas
“Colton Crane,” Angus dramatically dropped the name.
She paused and looked over her shoulder at the detective. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” Did they need to cover the whole definition of amnesia or what? I can’t remember shit.
“Not to you, no. It’s supposed to mean something to your boyfriend.” His smile was chilling. Taunting. “After all, that’s the name of the man he nearly beat to death when Victor was just sixteen years old.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Colton Crane.” A nod from the detective. Melody did not like the smug look on his face. She also didn’t like the growing knots in her stomach. “He’s the whole reason I first started looking into Victor’s life. Looking past that shiny veneer and all the money and fancy business titles he has now. Once upon a time, he was quite a different person. A criminal. A thug. Had one very interesting rap sheet as a teen that was?—”
“My juvenile records were expunged,” Victor said. His voice was flat. Arctic. When she angled a bit to look at him, no emotion showed on his face. He’d just been accused of assault—attempted murder?—yet he was as cold as ice as he added, “Charges when I was a minor don’t really enter into the equation, and, if we’re going to talk about all the business titles I have, let’s not forget that I’m a lawyer, too. Amaya tends to be one hell of a lot more tactful than I am?—”
“Thanks for noticing,” Amaya broke in to say. “Always good to know when one is appreciated.”
“So I called her in for the interrogation scene,” Victor continued doggedly. “But maybe you don’t want tact, detective. Maybe you want a direct confrontation.” He turned and faced off with the other man. “Be warned. You don’t want to walk down this path with me right now. I’ll have your job faster than you can blink. I played nicely with you for the last year because I thought you or one of your contacts might turn up something to help with my search for Melody. But you provided jack and shit. I have her back now. That means I do not need you any longer. Not in any form. Play time—my nice time—is over.”
Yet the detective did not back down. “Did you nearly beat Colton Crane to death? Because I’ve seen the pictures.” A low whistle. “His attacker certainly seemed to be filled with a whole lot of rage.”
“Victor?” Melody prompted when he just stared at Angus. “We should go.” The sooner, the better. She wanted to run out of that police station and never look back.
Victor glanced her way.
“We should go,” she said again. A faint plea had entered her voice.
“It might be wiser for you to leave on your own,” Angus advised her. “Don’t trust the wrong person. Not having a memory makes you very, very vulnerable. You don’t want to be prey again.”
Like she needed to be reminded that not being prey was the goal. “Appreciate the concern, but being prey isn’t on my to-do list, thanks.”
“Are you threatening her?” Victor demanded. Now emotion was in his voice. Unfortunately, that emotion was rage.
Amaya pushed back her chair. The legs screeched over the floor. “I think my tact is needed. Definitely needed.” Her high heels clicked over the floor. “There are no threats. There are just concerned individuals, on both sides.” She flashed a sunny smile. “Since my client—actually, clients, plural, since I represent both Melody and Victor—have done nothing wrong, they will be leaving. Unless, of course, I missed some charge that you were leveling against them?”
“Her fake ID?—”
“If Melody’s memory hadn’t been impaired by her tragic attack, then she would have easily been able to contact the embassy or even contact her family and get proper ID. Do you really want to charge Melody Mage, the victim in this tragedy, when you know I can get any good judge to see things my way? When I can absolutely crucify your unfeeling self in the Press?” She waited a beat. Blinked. “No? Good. By the way, that’s me being tactful. Now, I think we’re done here.” She motioned toward the door. “Let’s end this scene.”
Gladly. Melody gave up waiting on Victor. She grabbed the man’s arm and heaved him forward. The better to get him away from the detective. “Come on.” They’d been there for hours. Going over the same details. How many times did a woman have to say that she had no memory?
And how many times did the detective have to grill a victim?
Though he’d certainly been sitting heavily on that little bombshell about Victor’s past. Was it true? Had Victor really beaten a man so badly that the guy had almost died?
Victor let her pull him forward. She kept right on tugging him down the narrow hallway. Amaya’s heels click, click, clicked behind them. And then…
Outside.
Cold, biting night air. No more snowfall, but the temperature was still far, far too icy. When Melody breathed, a puff of fog drifted in front of her mouth.
“That was miserable,” Amaya announced as she paused on the top step near them. She’d bundled back into her designer coat. Her hands shoved into its deep pockets. “The detective was clearly planning for some sort of ambush in there, and I don’t like walking into a scene unprepared.” She edged closer to Melody. “My God.” A puff of frozen air drifted near her face. “I can’t believe you’re back.” She shook her head, sending her dark hair sliding against her jaw. “And I can’t believe that dick detective threatened to arrest you when you’re clearly the victim.” Her focus shifted to a silent Victor. “You know he was trying to push you into an attack.”
“I didn’t attack him.”
“Right. Because you were being nice.” A shiver worked over her body, and Amaya pulled her coat even closer. “I’m going home. I’m defrosting. We will all talk again soon, yes? And no one will get arrested or get hauled to a police station again in the immediate future? Promise me?”
“I’ll do my best,” Victor said.
“That’s not the passionate promise I was looking for.” She inclined her head toward Melody. “You keep him out of trouble?”
Did she know the lawyer? Had they been friends before? Amaya wasn’t trying to hug her or say anything personal to her so…maybe not?
