Chapter 17
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?
“I’m not getting a promise from you, either,” Amaya huffed into the silence.
“You two are not being dream clients right now.” Another shiver.
“Whatever. I did my due diligence. I’m going home and wrapping some presents for my kids.
Please, please don’t antagonize the cops.
I would like to have a merry holiday with my family. ”
With that, she cautiously made her way down the steps and toward a black Range Rover parked near the front of the police station.
Melody shivered as she watched Amaya walk away. At her shiver, Victor cursed. He shouldered out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders. It was warm. Huge, but warm, and she hunched into it. I’m wearing two coats. Granted, one was too thin but…now he had nothing.
“Come on, baby,” he said, “we’re going home.” He’d driven them to the station in his BMW. One that he’d parked around the side of the station when they’d arrived.
They made it to the bottom of the steps. Amaya was already in her vehicle. Her lights flashed as she pulled away.
Victor turned to the side of the police station. His BMW waited about twenty feet away and—
“What the fuck?” Victor snarled. He let her go and surged forward.
She hurried forward, too, and saw what had caused his flare of anger. The BMW’s two passenger side tires were completely flat. The vehicle sank down, twisted to the side.
The BMW was the only car left on the side of the station. She figured it had to be nearing midnight. The streetlamp near the BMW kept flickering, on and off, on and off…
And she heard a faint rustle from the surrounding darkness.
Instantly, her head whipped to the left. Then to the right. More buildings. But they were all closed. Shuttered for the night.
“Slashed,” Victor said as he bent near one of the tires.
Okay, that was bad.
Victor rose, quickly. “Melody, I want you going back inside. Now.”
“Not without you.” They’d both go back inside the police station. She held out her hand toward him. “Come on Victor, let’s—Victor!”
A man jumped from the darkness. Jumped to stand between her and Victor, and he gripped a knife in his hand.
The same knife he’d used to slash the tires?
Even as she screamed, he was coming at her, slashing at her.
The blade sliced toward her chest, and she leapt back.
Her boots lost purchase on the icy ground, and they slipped from beneath her.
She slammed down on her ass, and that timely fall saved her from getting cut with the knife.
“Melody!” A roar. But not one that came from Victor.
She looked over her shoulder. That roar had come from Detective Angus Clinton. He’d followed them. He yanked out his weapon.
Frantic, her head swung back toward her attacker. Only as she watched, Victor launched his body at the attacker, and they both slammed into the cement near her.
There was a thud. A grunt. Then Victor rose. The attacker groaned but didn’t get up.
“You sonofabitch,” Victor snarled. “You don’t hurt her.”
She scrambled back, her hands freezing as they slapped against the icy cement.
Victor flipped over the attacker. The man’s big, black coat had fallen open.
Oh, God.
The knife was in the guy’s chest. Lodged in him. For a moment, she thought he was dead.
“Victor,” she whispered.
Then the attacker lunged up. A wild scream broke from him as he yanked the knife out of his chest. Blood dripped onto the ground, and he twisted the knife in his gloved grip as he drove it at Victor.
“Victor!” Not a whisper this time. A scream.
Victor knocked the knife out of the attacker’s hand. It clattered to the ground. Then Victor drew back his fist and slammed it into the other man’s face, a face covered by a ski mask. Victor hit him once, twice, again. Again.
A hand clamped around Melody’s shoulder.
She jumped.
But it was just the detective. “You okay?” he demanded.
She nodded over and over, jerky movements as fear poured through her veins.
“Get behind me.” A sharp order.
She scrambled up. Moved behind the detective with the gun and heard him yell, “Police! Freeze!”
Only Victor didn’t freeze. He kept right on punching the assailant. Over and over, even though the man in the mask didn’t appear to be fighting back.
“I said for you to freeze!” Angus shouted. “Victor, move away from him, now!”
Victor’s hand flew once more.
A thudding impact.
“Victor!” Melody cried out.
His head whipped toward her. His hand froze in mid-air.
“He was trying to stab me,” Melody said quickly, not sure what all Angus had seen. “The car’s tires were slashed. Victor told me to go inside, and this guy came at me with a knife.” An attack right beside the police station? You had to be bold as hell to pull off a stunt like that.
Except…
I think he was waiting for me. The slashing tires had been deliberate. And the attacker hadn’t gone for Victor. He’d come straight at her.
Victor’s hand fell. He stepped to the side. The man in the black ski mask immediately fell.
“Get over here!” Angus barked at Victor. “Move away from the perp!”
Where had the knife gone? It had fallen before, but she didn’t know where it was any longer.
Victor didn’t move away. “Melody?”
“I’m okay.” Her teeth chattered. From the cold and from straight-up terror.
“Move away,” Angus snarled.
The man on the ground lunged upward. He gripped the knife in his hand—The same knife? A second one?—and he swung it out toward Victor.
“Drop it! Drop—” Angus fired his gun.