Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Being a hero absolutely freaking sucked. Royal didn’t care what BS the books and movies shouted to the world. Heroes didn’t win. They didn’t always stop the villain. And they damn well did not get the girl.
Instead, the villain got away. Got to slink off into the night in order to kill again another day, and, as for the girl…
She walked away. She didn’t look back. She went back to her world. The bright lights. The fans. Snow White went right back to dancing on her stage to the roar of the crowd.
And the hero went right back to hell.
And, in this particular instance, hell was the fundraising party where the rich and obnoxious of Savannah, Georgia, were currently milling around in their bright jewels, gossiping about everything under the sun, and truly destroying the last bit of patience that he possessed.
What in the hell am I doing here?
Two weeks had passed since Royal had dropped Violet’s gorgeous ass off at the Savannah PD. Two weeks since the press had gotten wind of her story. Two weeks since half the town started thinking she was a victim, and half the town became convinced she was a publicity whore trying to drum up more attendance for the upcoming production of her ballet.
The evidence said she’d been taken. Real evidence that the cops had uncovered. A surveillance video from the back of the theater that clearly showed a ski-mask-wearing prick tackling Violet to the ground before he carried her limp body off the screen. And doctors had examined her. Her concussion had been very real.
Violet had even remembered where she’d been taken. She’d been able to describe the vineyard and old winery that she saw. When I carried her sweet ass out of there.
The cops had gone to the scene. Searched it. So far, they’d turned up nothing useful.
I don’t think they looked hard enough.
So, sure, yes, there were parts of Violet’s story that absolutely, one hundred percent had been substantiated but…
“How did she escape?” The question came from a woman to the right of Royal. Blond. Breasts spilling from her skin-tight, sky-blue dress. Diamonds glittered at her ears. “That’s the part I don’t get.” She raised a flute of champagne to her lips. “Isn’t that suspicious? That she can’t remember exactly what happened from the time she got out of the trunk until she showed up at the police station?”
“Concussions are funny things,” the man next to her replied with a sage nod as if he had all the wisdom in the world.
From his position against the wall, Royal quirked a brow.
“She was probably drifting in and out of consciousness,” the man continued. “Whoever saved her—well, she may never remember his face.”
“Dr. Barnes.” The blond put down her empty flute so that she could grasp his arm. “You are so knowledgeable.”
Was he, though?
Her blood-red nails stroked up toward the doctor’s shoulder. “And I’m so sorry about your wife. I heard she passed away—how long has it been? Two years ago now? I hope you are?—”
“There’s Violet,” the doctor cut through her words. “There she is.”
And that same proclamation was echoed multiple times by people who’d been waiting for the star of the show to make her appearance.
There. She. Is.
Yeah, fuck it, even Royal shoved away from the wall as interest spiked through him. He’d shelled out the two hundred bucks for the ticket to the fundraiser just because he knew she would be there. And I wanted to see her again. Up close. Personal.
Hell, he hadn’t just paid two hundred bucks to get inside.
He’d dropped ten grand in order to buy the privilege of the first and only dance with the star of the show.
She hadn’t seen him yet. She was slowly walking down the stairs. Violet wore red. A silky dress with tiny, spaghetti straps that clung lightly to her delicate shoulders. His eyes narrowed on her. She seemed…smaller. Even more fragile than she’d been before. Makeup had been skillfully applied, but he still caught the hint of dark shadows under her eyes.
Have you been sleeping, sweetheart? Or do nightmares keep you up?
Her lips were painted a bold red to match her dress. Long, dangling earrings hung from her lobes, and those earrings slid in and out of her thick, dark hair.
As she drew closer to the landing, conversation stopped. All eyes were on her.
Royal knew that he sure as hell couldn’t look away. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.
Not the first time I’ve seen her since that night. Get a fucking grip, man.
Because…he had gone back to check on her. To stay close to the theater when he knew she was rehearsing late. To make sure that she got home safely.
To make sure she was safe.
Bullshit. Don’t lie to yourself.
He’d returned to…see her.
“Thank you all for coming!” It was the pompous ass beside Violet who’d just made that announcement. Micah Wright. The artistic director for the show. The man who basically was in charge of the ballet when it came to Savannah. His hand curled around Violet’s shoulder. A proprietary touch that had Royal’s gaze sharpening.
She gave a small flinch.
Royal’s back teeth ground together.
“It’s a big night for our show!” Micah called out. “The premiere will be next week, and I can’t wait for you all to see our Snow White take the stage!”
Applause spilt the air.
Micah—one of those pretty boys with capped, perfect teeth—smiled. “Your fundraising efforts mean so much to our group. And, as the band strikes up the first dance, I want to personally thank the winner of our dance auction. This individual donated ten thousand dollars for the privilege of dancing with our star!”
More applause. Heads turned as speculation mounted about just who had dropped that ten grand.
Violet didn’t glance around, though. Her gaze seemed focused on the marble floor. Too delicate. Too afraid.
But she was still being paraded around in front of the gawking crowd. Royal didn’t like that shit, not at all.
“I’d like to thank Royal Boudreaux for the generous donation. Mr. Boudreaux?” Micah’s voice rose. “Are you ready for your dance? Mr. Boudreaux?”
Royal didn’t answer. Instead, he started walking forward. People instinctively got the fuck out of his way. They’d always done that. He smiled grimly at the onlookers. He’d made sure to wear the right tux so he’d blend with this crowd. No one staring at him now would ever guess he’d started life by being abandoned on the streets by his family. No one would guess he’d fought and clawed for survival in gang life. And no one would sure ever know…
That for fun, he hunted down serial killers and became their worst nightmares.
Violet wasn’t looking at him. She showed zero curiosity about her dance partner.
But Micah was looking. The man’s big smile dimmed a bit when he got a good view of Royal. “Uh, Mr. Boudreaux?”
Royal nodded. “That’d be me.” He stopped right in front of Violet. He extended his hand toward her.
Very, very slowly, her gaze began to drift over his body. Started at his feet. Her gaze darted up. Her head rose. Lifted as she looked at his legs. His chest. His neck.
His chin.
A light beard covered his jaw. It had been fourteen days, after all. So he wasn’t clean shaven like he’d been the night they met. He waited to see recognition in her eyes—those amazing, golden eyes. But there was no recognition.
Not so much as a flicker of emotion crossed her face.
“Thank you,” she whispered as her fingers curled around his.
Desire knifed through him.
“My pleasure,” he murmured.
Her body jolted. The eyes that had started to lower once more flew to meet his.
He smiled at her. For her. A real smile. “I believe the dance is mine.” And so are you.
Her tongue snaked over those lush, red lips, but before she could speak again, the band began to play. He pulled her against him, into his arms, and took her onto the dance floor while everyone else watched.
Every single eye was on them. And as for Violet…
“Sweetheart, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Low words. Meant for her alone.
She stumbled.
He made a quick tut-tut with his tongue. “I expected more, especially from such an accomplished dancer as yourself. Shall I slow down? Will that help?” And he did. But just so he could pull her closer. Hold her tighter. He towered over her.
Be careful. She’s breakable.
“You…paid ten thousand dollars to dance with me?”
Dammit, her voice was too sexy. Husky and sensual and it stroked over him with way too much force. “A bargain, don’t you think?”
Her head shook. “I would have danced with you for free.”
He was the one who almost stumbled. “Hardly the way to raise money, now, is it?”
One of her hands curled around his upper arm. The other gripped his hand. “It’s you. ”
“My name’s Royal. Royal Boudreaux. But then, I think you heard that handsy prick when he introduced me.”
Her breath came faster and faster.
His left hand slid down to curl around her waist. “Pull in a deeper breath. Nice and slow.” He inhaled. “What is that scent?”
“L-lilacs.”
“Violet smells like lilacs.” Soft laughter escaped from him.
She stopped. Tried to pull away. To retreat. He just spun her back into his arms. And held her ever closer. “Easy,” he whispered against her ear. “So many people are watching us. I think you are supposed to look as if you’re fascinated by me. Not as if you’re afraid.” He didn’t want her fear.
Violet shivered against him.
“I am not here to hurt you.”
Her head turned. She peered up at him with truly the deepest, most golden eyes he’d ever seen. “Then why are you here?”
So many eyes were on them. Too many. I only care about her eyes. “The cops think the perp was a crazed fan.”
“I-I’d done a national tour of Swan Lake before coming here. So many cities. The detectives think he followed me.”
“The detectives are dead wrong. The man who took you isn’t some obsessed fan. He’s a fucking serial killer.”
This time when she stumbled, he kept a steady grip on her. Carefully, he steered her toward the doors that led out onto the balcony.
“How do you know that?” she asked.
“Because I know all about the monsters who hide in the dark.”
The band kept playing.
“You didn’t tell the cops about me,” Royal noted.
Her gaze slid over his face. As if memorizing every feature.
“Did you even recognize me,” Royal pushed, truly curious, “until I spoke?”
“I hear your voice in my dreams.”
“Nightmares.” He nodded.
“ Dreams,” she corrected flatly. “I know the difference between a nightmare and a dream. In my dream, I’m safe and I’m with you.”
“You’ll always be safe with me.” Now why in the sweet hell had he just said those words to her?
She licked her lips again. Damn. She really needed to stop tempting him. “Why didn’t you want the cops to know about what you’d done?” Violet asked. “You saved me.”
He smiled at her. “You shouldn’t ask questions that you don’t want answered.”
“I really, really want that answer.”
He supposed she did. Didn’t mean he was going to give it to her, though. “You moved out of your brother’s house. You went back to your place.” A move she’d made earlier that day.
Her eyes widened. “How did you know that?”
They were almost at the balcony doors. And the song was nearly at an end.
“Were you watching me?” Violet’s voice rose a little too much.
“Protecting you,” he corrected. “Seems I developed a taste for it.” And to think, he’d once mocked his brother for doing something very similar once upon a not too long-ago time. Oh, but if Beau found out about Royal’s current situation…
The asshole would never let me hear the end of things. For a variety of reasons.
For now, he was keeping secrets from his brother. Better for them both that way. And, since they were on the subject of brothers… “You should return to your brother’s place,” Royal told Violet. “Go back and stay with Dawson. It’s not wise for you to be alone.”
The band slowly trailed away as the music ended. The crowd applauded. Violet glanced around the ballroom and offered a shaky smile to everyone.
Micah motioned toward her. She took a step in his direction.
“Nope, I want you with me.” Royal kept one hand on her wrist and with the other, he pushed open the balcony door.
She peered down at his hand, then back up at him. “Bossy, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. I’m Arrogant. Demanding. Vengeful. Obsessive. I could go on about my bad qualities for days.” He shrugged. “Can’t say you weren’t warned.”
“Are you trying to warn me away from you?” Her head cocked. The earrings caught the light and threw it back at him. A glimmer in the darkness of her hair. Not completely black hair, though. He could see red highlights hidden in that darkness.
“Maybe I am,” he heard himself say.
“Then why come to see me in the first place? Why pay for the dance?”
“Because I think the killer is going to come after you again. The cops don’t need to be blowing smoke and saying it’s some obsessed fan.” The words were low. Meant only for her. “You have to be on your guard. Always.”
Violet swallowed. “You’re scaring me.”
“Good. Then my brilliant plan is working.”
“Violet!” Micah called.
Royal spared him an annoyed glance. The other man was rushing across the dance floor and torpedoing straight toward them. “Tell him to fuck off,” he advised.
“That’s my boss. I can’t say that to him!”
“Your boss wants to fuck you. Guy has a reputation for fucking all his leading ladies.” Royal had been doing some digging on the people in Violet’s world.
“I’m not interested in fucking him.” Prim.
Fucking prim and adorable. “Stop it,” Royal told her as his gaze flew back to her.
“Stop what?” Violet’s brows arched. “Are you having an episode right now? Is there someone you need me to call?”
“You’re being damn cute. You shouldn’t do that with me.”
“Uh, okay.” She backed up a step. “Definitely an episode.”
“Violet!” Micah was almost on top of them.
He did not have the patience to deal with that prick. “Come with me onto the balcony. I want to talk with you. Without eyes on us and ears straining to hear every word we say.”
She bit her lip.
And Micah was there. “Violet.” He reached out toward her. “Violet, there are other donors you need to?—”
Royal stepped into his path. “Ten thousand dollars is buying me ten more minutes.” It had better. Royal gave the man a hard grin. “Violet and I have a little more talking to do. Privately. You’ll excuse us?” And Royal thought that was the nicest way he’d ever said fuck off to someone before. Violet wouldn’t know it, but he’d just showed pretty insane restraint.
Micah blinked. “What?” He blinked three times in fast succession. “You…you didn’t buy Violet. I mean, not time with her. You have to?—”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Violet broke through his words to say. “Mr. Boudreaux is considering additional donations, and I’d like to speak with him privately about those.”
Well, again, not the official fuck off that he’d wanted, but the jerk was her boss. Maybe she was being tactful.
Micah’s brows beetled. He craned his head to see her around Royal’s form. “Violet?”
“Ten minutes,” she repeated. “I’ll be right outside. And I’ll be perfectly safe with Mr. Boudreaux.”
Micah’s suspicious eyes returned to Royal.
“I do so love the ballet,” Royal murmured. “Just want to see if I’m making my contributions in the right way.”
Micah pulled up a smile. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have.”
“Thank you so much.” You prick. Stop cutting your gaze at Violet. And keep your hands off her in the future. “If you’ll excuse us?” He didn’t wait for a response. Royal edged toward the open balcony door. Violet exited first.
And he followed right on her heels.
The ballroom was full of beautiful victims. But he only wanted her.
The red dress had made Violet look as if she were covered in blood. At least, to his eyes. She’d spun and glided on the floor, held too close by the hulking asshole who’d bid too high on the dance with her.
Violet had looked at her partner with fear in her lovely eyes.
These days, she looked at most people that way.
A new change, seeing prey in this light. Knowing that he’d been the one to instill the fear in her. Sweet, somehow. Poignant.
It made Violet different. Special.
Not special enough that she would actually get to escape. Oh, no, never that. But still, her end would be particularly meaningful for him.
You won’t get away. The cops had been watching her. Paying a bit too much attention. So he’d waited. He’d bided his time.
But the cops couldn’t stick close forever. There were other cases. Other crimes. Other victims. Violet wouldn’t be protected forever.
Eventually, she’d go back to her old routine. Her old life.
And when she lowered her guard…
I’ll be here, Violet. Waiting. And we’ll finish what we started.