Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Fury pounded through Royal’s veins. The sonofabitch had been too close to Violet. With a fucking knife. Royal had fired his gun, and he thought he’d hit the bastard. But the wily prick had dropped to the floor.
The SOB could have killed Violet.
The thought had fury flaring even hotter within Royal. I did this. I brought her here. So cocky and arrogant. So sure I could take him out.
But the arrogance had died when the jerk had charged at Violet. Terror had clawed through him, and all Royal had wanted to do was get to her.
Cuts and slices littered his arms. Blood dripped down his hands because he’d clawed his way through the glass. He would have clawed his way through hell if it meant getting to her.
Violet was behind him. I left her. Left. Her.
And a huge part of him just wanted to whirl around and rush back to her. But the attacker had fled. He could not get away again. If he got away again, he’d come for Violet once more.
She couldn’t be in danger again. The nightmare had to stop for her. Royal didn’t want Violet afraid for the rest of her life. Always looking over her shoulder.
The thudding footsteps had gone to the right, and he swerved to the right, too. Royal saw that the bottom part of the wall had been torn apart just enough that a person could slide through to exit. Nostrils flaring, he twisted and contorted and got his ass through that opening. When he broke into the night, he stilled a moment as he tried to figure out where the attacker had gone. If the jerk had circled the building in order to go back for Violet…
But, no. Footsteps. Straight ahead. Coming from an old, dead farm field. Royal raced forward. A quick turn and he shoved his way through the dry-as-dust corn stalks that were in his way. Overgrown. Twisting. Pale in the moonlight. The dry stalks were everywhere, but those steps… they were?—
Got you.
He surged through the corn stalks and tackled his prey. The man let out a sharp cry as he hit the ground.
Royal spun him over, he brought up his gun, and he put it right in the middle of the prick’s face.
“No!” Micah Wright cried out. “Don’t shoot!”
“You’re dead,” Royal told him. And he squeezed the?—
A hard voice thundered, “Freeze!”
Royal stiffened. He didn’t drop his weapon. Hell, no, he didn’t.
That hard, familiar voice continued, “Royal, put down the gun. Do not shoot him. That’s an order—from your friend and from a police detective.”
Because the voice shouting orders? It belonged to Detective Curran Barlow.
Slowly, Royal turned his head toward Curran. The detective had just shoved through the twisting corn stalks.
“I know what you’ve been doing,” Curran gritted. “It ends, now .”
“You shouldn’t be out here,” Royal told him.
“Neither should you.”
Micah squirmed beneath Royal. Royal was on top of the bastard, with one hand slammed against his chest and the other holding the gun dead center on Micah’s face.
“H-help me,” Micah gasped.
“That’s what I’m doing,” Curran snapped.
The moonlight showed that the detective had his gun up—and aimed at Royal.
“I’m not as dirty as you think,” Curran said. “I don’t just turn a blind eye to murder.”
Micah whimpered. “I-I’m…hurt…st-stabbed…”
Royal’s teeth ground together. “She stabbed you, asshole. When you tried to hurt her.” His head whipped back to Micah. He glared down at the bastard. “You thought you’d take Violet from me? The only thing you’ll be doing is going to hell.”
“Don’t!” Curran roared. “Don’t make me shoot you, Royal! I’ll do it! Dammit! I’ll shoot you in the back if that’s what you make me do!”
“He’s crazy!” Micah screeched. “I’m here…Simone c-called me…was…just attacked…Someone…knife…” His words ended in a wail. “I’m bleeding! Get… help!”
“Violet is the one who stabbed you,” Royal threw right back. “Because you attacked her. You killed all those other women. You are going straight to hell.”
Grass and corn stalks crunched as Curran advanced. “If what you’re saying is true, Royal, then a judge and jury can decide his fate. You don’t get to do it. Put down the gun.”
Royal smiled at Micah. “There’s no need for the judge and jury.”
“Royal!” Curran roared his name. “Don’t make me do this! Put down the gun. Put it down or I will?—”
“ Royal!”
His whole body jerked.
“Royal, help me!” Violet screamed.
He lunged up and off Micah. But then Micah immediately scuttled away. The prick made it to his feet. No, no.
Royal grabbed him. Spun him around.
“Don’t shoot!” Curran shouted.
Micah swung at Royal. Missed with his punch. Royal headbutted Micah. He drove his head hard into Micah’s face. Micah howled.
Royal shoved the gun into his waistband. Then his fists went straight for Micah. But before he could hit?—
Curran hauled Royal back.
A whimpering Micah fell to the ground.
“What the hell are you doing?” Curran let him go, but he put his body between Royal and Micah.
“Subduing the suspect.” His breath heaved. “Put cuffs on him. Put a bullet in his head. Do what you have to do. But do not let him go. He’s a killer.”
“ Royal!” Violet’s desperate voice. The corn stalks crunched. She burst through them.
A light hit her. Curran had hauled out a flashlight, and the beam shone straight onto Violet—perfectly illuminating her figure and the blood that soaked her.
For a moment, Royal could not breathe.
She was hurt. I left her. Thought she was secure. She’s covered in blood.
“Help me!” Violet cried again. “I-I can’t get her out of the trunk. I can’t stop the blood. Simone is dying. ” She grabbed Royal’s hand. “I called nine-one-one. But, please, help me!”
Always.
He rushed with her back to the old service station. Back through the small entrance in the rear. Back to the garage and to the body that was waiting in the trunk.
His breath hissed out.
Violet had propped her phone inside the trunk. The light illuminated Simone.
“I couldn’t leave her in the dark. That’s why I left the light with her. She can’t be alone in the dark.” Violet pressed her bloody fingers to Simone’s chest. “I called nine-one-one,” she said again. “Help is coming, but she needs us now!”
He didn’t think any help would save her. The woman looked dead. So much blood. “Violet,” he began.
“She’s alive!” Violet shouted. “I felt her pulse! Help us!”
His hand went to Simone’s throat. He didn’t feel a pulse, but he leaned closer. He?—
“M-Micah…” Simone whispered.
Shit. She was alive.
He pushed his hands against some of her biggest wounds.
Royal didn’t know how the press found out about the attack, but they rushed to the scene. Hell, maybe they’d just been listening to the police scanners. Wasn’t that how they usually knew when drama and death went down? The reporters flew up right behind the ambulances and the cop cars that came spilling to the old service station.
He knew cameras were rolling. Knew plenty of pictures were being taken.
Simone hadn’t spoken again, not after that one word. He was pretty sure she hadn’t breathed after that one word, either. At least, not on her own.
Curran had cuffed and secured Micah, and then the detective had come to help them. They’d performed CPR. They’d tried to stop the terrible bleeding. But blood had literally soaked the trunk beneath Simone.
Too many slashes.
When the EMTs arrived, they immediately took over CPR and rushed Simone away on a gurney. They loaded her into the back of their ambulance, and the sirens screamed when the vehicle raced away.
The reporters kept filming.
Royal had blood on his hands. On his body. His clothes. So did Violet. She stood beside him and she shivered and her gaze followed the ambulance as it left.
“She’s not going to make it,” Violet murmured. “Is she?”
He wanted to touch her, but he didn’t want to put more blood on her. He didn’t respond, but Royal knew that was answer enough.
“Royal.” Curran cleared his throat. “You have to go to the station with us.”
Royal had known this moment would come. He smiled at his friend. “And here I thought we had an agreement.” A shake of his head. “But you were playing me all along.” He could almost admire that trick.
Curran stared back at him. “You can’t commit murder. Doesn’t matter if the people you’re after are the scum of the earth, you aren’t their final executioner.”
He would have been, that night. If Curran hadn’t stopped him from pulling the trigger on Micah. “You saw what he did.”
None of them would ever be able to forget Simone’s blood-soaked body.
“You really think he should get to live for the next fifty years?” Royal asked. “After what he did to her?”
Curran didn’t answer. The scene was now lit up like the freaking Fourth of July. The cops had brought in so many lights. Uniforms rushed in every direction, and a female EMT made her way steadily to Violet.
“Miss?” The EMT reached for Violet. “I want to check you out.”
“I’m not hurt.” Violet turned away from the EMT. Moved toward Royal. “We’ll both go to the station,” she informed Curran.
Curran dipped his head. “Right. I have questions for you, too, Violet, but Royal…” A wince. “I don’t want to use the cuffs in front of the crowd.”
Royal laughed. “Why the hell not?” And he extended his wrists toward Curran. “You have a job to do.” You have your job. I have mine.
Curran swore. “Just get in the cruiser, would you?”
Royal didn’t move. Not yet. His gaze swept over Violet’s profile. “Violet…”
“ You’re arresting him?” she demanded. “For what? Saving me? Trying to save Simone?” And she edged so close to Royal that her arm brushed against his. “You can’t do that! You can’t put him in a cage when he hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Oh, Royal had done plenty over the years that counted as wrong.
And, apparently, Curran knew all his dirty secrets. Again, he was impressed. He’d always thought the guy showed talent and promise. Nice to be proven right.
“This isn’t the time,” Curran breathed. “I need to get Royal out of here. You can come to the station, too. But he’s gonna need a lawyer.”
“ He attacked me!” Micah suddenly screamed.
Yeah, that prick was still there. Being loaded into the back of another ambulance. One hand was cuffed to the rail of the gurney. Micah’s free hand flew up and pointed at Royal. “Arrest him!” A screech. “He killed Simone! He attacked me! Put a gun to my head!”
That’s what happens when you’re a murderous prick. “Should have let me kill him,” Royal muttered to the detective who’d turned on him. “That mistake will come back to bite you in the ass.” He still kept his wrists extended toward Curran.
Swearing, Curran took the cuffs and locked them around Royal’s wrists. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You will be,” Royal assured him.
“No!” Violet’s voice broke through the night. And all eyes seemed to surge toward them.
Curran began leading Royal to a nearby patrol car. Micah had been sealed inside his ambulance.
“No!” Violet blasted again, the denial even louder and even stronger this time. “Royal saved me!”
The reporters pushed closer.
She grabbed Royal’s arm. Held tightly. She stared straight up at him. “I’m not letting you get locked up.”
He smiled at her. “You’re safe.” She was safe. Beautiful. Determined. Strong. Alive. What would I have done if she’d been the dead body in the trunk?
Violet shot onto her toes. Her hands curled behind his head, and she dragged his mouth down to hers. She kissed him. Hard and deep and wildly. Right in front of the reporters and the cops.
“Move,” Curran snapped.
She slowly let Royal go.
Then she spun to face the crowd. “Royal Boudreaux saved my life tonight! He’s a hero, and the cops are locking him up.”
“Freaking fabulous,” Curran groused. He pushed Royal forward.
Royal advanced, but his eyes slid back to Violet.
Fragile, breakable Violet. With blood on her body and her clothes. Looking like a weak victim, but speaking so clearly. “Royal has been protecting me. Guarding me.” She peered into the biggest camera. “He’s been my bodyguard since my abduction. He’s a hero. Not a criminal. Hero. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead.”
The cruiser’s rear door was open. Curran guided Royal inside.
Royal kept watching Violet. “She can’t be left alone.”
“I have a feeling she won’t be.”
Violet turned her head toward Royal. “His only crime is stopping the man who came at me with a knife. So why is Royal being sent away?”
“You have a few more crimes than that one, but still, nice touch. She is painting one stellar picture of you. Royal, hero extraordinaire. The press will eat that shit up.” Curran slammed the door. He slapped the top of the car. The driver was already in place. The young cop started the engine and drove the vehicle forward. Royal kept his eyes on the person who mattered.
Violet.
The reporters closed in on her.