Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“She made you into a freaking hero.”
Royal rolled back his shoulders. His neck ached. The chair was stiff as hell. And the weak coffee in front of him had gone ice cold.
He’d been at the station for most of the night. Cooperating. Or, at least, giving the appearance of cooperating. He needed to see just what the cops had on him. That way, he could launch his own attack. So he’d been talking a bit—and letting the cops talk more.
“Violet. She made you a hero.” Curran hauled out a chair across from Royal. He sat down at the narrow table. Ran a weary hand over his face. “Your picture—blood-covered, brutal you and fragile Violet—that picture is all over the Internet, FYI. All over every TV news show in the nation. The world is calling you a hero. I’m getting pressure from my boss to cut your ass loose when just yesterday, I was being told to lock you up at all costs.”
Royal tilted his head. “Funny how things can change.” He smiled at the detective. “Take you, for example. Who would have thought that you’d be leading the charge against me so passionately? And to think, I considered you a friend.” He put a hand to his heart. “It hurts. Right here.”
Curran’s gaze cut to the right. To the one-way mirror that hung against the wall. Then he looked back at Royal. But Royal got the message.
We’re being watched.
Like he hadn’t already figured out that shit. What was this? His first time in interrogation? Hardly. He knew exactly how to play this game. Royal let his hand drop and released a dramatic sigh.
“We found the camera,” Curran revealed.
Royal didn’t change expression. “Uh, good for you?” He cleared his throat. “What camera?”
“The one out at the winery. Did you forget to move it?”
He hadn’t forgotten. But when he’d gone back, it had already been removed. “Sorry. I’m having trouble following along.”
Curran’s hands flattened on the table top. “Then let me draw you a map.”
“Whatever gets you going.”
Curran’s eyes narrowed. “A surveillance camera was found at the winery. The winery where the perp took Violet. It was your camera.”
“Why would you think that?” He let his own eyes widen. “Were there prints on it that led you to me?”
“You know there were no prints recovered on it.”
Because he wouldn’t make such an amateur mistake. “Then did you somehow trace the camera’s purchase to me? I’m just—sorry, I’m not following along. The map needs to be more detailed.”
“Bullshit. You follow everything. You and that crazy tech mind of yours. Look, we both know it was your camera.”
“A statement, not a question.” The camera could not be traced back to him. “I think you’re supposed to ask questions. Not that I want to tell you how to do your job.”
Curran’s lips twisted. “You’re damn good when it comes to tech.”
“Thanks for noticing. I try.”
“But we’ve got someone better.”
He didn’t change expression. “Do tell.”
“A lady from Quantico. She came to town with the Feds. See, you aren’t the only one who thought a serial killer was hunting here. The Feds had been watching and evaluating. She got the camera from the winery. She did some tech mojo, and she was able to trace the signal back to you and your phone.”
He didn’t buy that for even a second. No one can trace jack back to me. “Why are you lying to me? I’m not going to make some grand confession.” He laughed. “I’m not the serial killer the Feds are after.”
Curran stared stonily back at him.
Let’s see what all the cops know . Royal shifted a bit in his uncomfortable chair. “The killer that the Feds want to catch? He has claimed four victims so far. Four women who all look the same.” An exhale. “Marcella?—”
“Marcella White. Bailey Brown. Fiona Law.” A pause from Curran. “And Violet Murphy. Only Violet wasn’t murdered like the others. You saved her.”
So the cops were tying all the pieces together. Finally. “I didn’t kill those women.”
“I never thought you did. Feds might have suspected you. But…you’re not into hurting women. You don’t go after the vulnerable.”
“Tell me more about what I do—or what you think I do.” Tell me everything.
“I think you’re the man who has been hunting the killer.”
Ah, well, on that, Curran would be right. Good for him. And if the Feds had put those puzzle pieces together, too? Bravo.
“And you were hunting him the night Violet was taken. Only instead of finding the killer, you found her.” Curran leaned forward. “What I don’t get is why you didn’t just leave her in the trunk and finish him off then and there.”
He held the detective’s stare.
“Simone Wilmont is dead.” Curran slumped back in his seat. “Hell, we both knew she was dead even when they loaded her into the ambulance.”
Beneath the table, Royal’s hands clenched into fists. Where is Violet? How is she? Her friend’s death would hit her hard. Violet had tried so desperately to help Simone.
I need to get to Violet. Enough of this bullshit with him cooperating. He had places to be. And a Violet to hold.
“I want to know how you and Violet wound up at the crime scene. How did you get to that old service station?”
He could share this part and get things rolling. Besides, he was sure the cops had already asked Violet plenty of the same questions. Violet—being Violet—she’d tell the truth. So he’d stick to the truth as much as possible, too. “Simone called Violet. She was scared. Desperate. She asked Violet to come and get her.” A pause. “She said Micah had left her in the middle of nowhere.”
Curran’s jaw hardened. “Micah says he got a call from Simone, too. That her car had broken down. That she needed him. She asked him to come and find her. Only when he got there, he said some guy ran at him in the dark, stabbed him, and then the next thing he knew, you had a gun in his face.”
“Some people are good at lying.”
Curran nodded. “Yes.” His stare bored into Royal. “They are.”
Oh, was that supposed to be a hit? Whatever. This whole scene was a pain in his ass. He’d sat patiently for hours. He’d chatted politely with too many cops, but his patience was slicing away. “Violet stabbed him. I saw her do it. I’m sure she has already told you that when her attacker charged at her, she used a knife on him. A knife I’d given her for protection.”
“You saw her stab Micah?”
“I just said that, didn’t I?” He’d said it before, too.
“Where were you when she stabbed him?”
His nostrils flared. “I was punching my way through the glass in the garage door in order to get to her.” A moment that would replay in his mind on a hell-loop pretty much forever, thanks so much.
“Is that when you were also firing your weapon?”
The weapon that had been seized by the cops. “Yes. He had a knife, and he was trying to use it on Violet. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I happen to take deep offense to the idea of anyone cutting her skin.” Great offense. The kind of offense that would result in someone getting killed. Micah should be dead, but Curran stopped me.
Royal could forgive a lot of things. Curran’s conscience getting the better of him and the guy arresting Royal? Sure, he could even let that go. Bygones. But Curran letting that prick Micah live?
No forgiveness on that one.
“Let’s cut the bullshit,” Curran suddenly announced.
Royal quirked one brow. “Oh, have we not already done that? My bad.”
Curran glowered. “You went to that shitty old gas station with Violet because you knew that the killer you were after had taken Simone there.”
He exhaled. “I hear so many statements. Not so many questions. I get that you’re new to the detective gig, my friend, but you have to ask questions during interrogations. That is the way this works.”
“I know that Simone and Micah were an item. I also know she was Violet’s understudy, and I suspect that Simone wanted the lead role with every breath in her body.” Curran cleared his throat. “Simone was having an affair with Micah. I know it because I saw them together at the theater.”
Royal waited.
“But word from some of the other cast members is that Micah wanted to fuck your dancer.”
She is mine. But Royal just shrugged. “We don’t always get what we want in this world.”
“You weren’t going to let him have her.”
“I wasn’t going to let him kill Violet, if that’s what you mean. Look, she stabbed him. Violet has no doubt told the cops that she stabbed her attacker. And Micah has a stab wound?—”
“One that he says someone else gave him.” Curran stared straight at Royal. “Not Violet. A man who charged at him from the darkness.”
Royal grunted. “Convenient, don’t you think? Violet stabs her attacker, and, oh, look, someone else just happens to stab Micah in basically the same spot? That’s not coincidental. That’s impossible.” Curran should see right through the lie.
“You almost killed him,” Curran whispered.
Too bad you interrupted the job.
“Violet says she tased her attacker,” Curran added. A long exhale. “Did you see that happen?”
He frowned, trying to remember. No, no, dammit, he couldn’t recall her doing that.
“Huh.” Curran scraped a hand over his jaw. “Pieces don’t add up.” Low. Very low. His stare cut to the one-way mirror, then back to Royal.
“Is she watching?” Royal asked, truly curious. “The Fed you think is better at tech work than me? Is she in there? Are a whole team of Feds in there just salivating because they think you’re taking me down?”
“ They thought you were the serial who’d hurt those women. That’s why they originally wanted me tailing you.”
Royal laughed.
“This shit isn’t a joke. The camera at the winery? They have a theory that it was set up because the perp wanted a replay of his crimes. They think you were at the winery the night of Violet’s abduction. And then, bam, you were there when Simone was killed at the service station. You had Simone’s blood all over you.”
Ah, yes, his bloody clothes. They’d been removed. Bagged and tagged as evidence. Now he wore some borrowed jail clothes. The kind of crap that they gave prisoners to wear in holding. Orange and garish. Royal looked down at the shirt in distaste. “Not really my color.”
“Blood isn’t your color?”
“No, this hideous orange.” His head tilted back so he could eye the detective. “You have five more minutes, then I’m calling my lawyer. I’ve cooperated, but my patience is at an end.”
“Fine.” A muscle flexed along Curran’s jaw. “Did you abduct Violet?”
“No.”
“Did you save Violet that night at the winery?”
“Do I look like a fucking savior?” His heart slammed into his chest. Has Violet revealed my secret? Did she tell them what I did that night?
“Then let’s switch things up. Are you the man responsible for subduing and restraining Everett Thomas and Owen Bell?”
Royal stretched out his legs beneath the table. “Refresh my memory. Who are they?”
“You know damn well who they are. Killers. Sadistic, twisted killers who had been murdering women. Cops and Feds couldn’t find them. But someone else did. Someone trapped them. Secured them. Put freaking bows around their necks and left them for the cops to pick up.” A long exhale. “Everett Thomas was called the Slasher because of what he did to his vics. And as for Bell? That freak was using horse tranquilizer to knock out his victims and make them helpless while he attacked. Two straight-up, real-life nightmares. Killers who were all but gift-wrapped for the cops.”
“Oh, right.” Royal smiled. “I do remember those stories. And you think I’m the one who stopped them?” He let his smile stretch. “I am flattered. Truly.”
“After some prompting and serious badgering from me, the Feds revealed there have been other killers who were…stopped.” Again, he glanced toward the one-way mirror. “Like a real bad piece of work named Will Kelly. He was found in Lafayette, Louisiana.”
“Huh. Will Kelly, you say? What were his crimes?”
“He abducted and murdered girls. Girls. Not women. Kids.”
Royal forced his back teeth to unclench. “I’m guessing he was found subdued and with a bow tied around his neck?”
“Subdued? Sure, you could say that. He was found with a bullet to the brain.” His eyes glittered. “Seem familiar to you? Because when I found you and Micah, you had your gun aimed at his brain.”
“Technically, I had my gun aimed in the middle of his face. Details matter.”
“This shit isn’t a joke. The Feds are trying to tie you to murder. ”
“Seems to me like that prick Will might have deserved what he got. You shouldn’t hurt kids. They’re too breakable. Fragile.”
“And you don’t like it when fragile things are hurt, do you? Kids…and say…a certain ballerina. One that somehow worked her way beneath your skin. See, this is what I think happened.”
“Oh, yes, please, tell me what you think happened.”
“I think you’ve got a whole lot of rage and darkness inside of you, Royal. I think that darkness cut loose with Will.”
Still with the statements, not questions.
“But I think maybe…maybe you had some help on the other two hunts. Everett and Owen. Maybe someone stopped you from going too far. You subdued them. Didn’t kill them. Is that what happened? You have someone put you on a leash and yank you back from the edge?” His narrowed stare watched Royal like a hawk.
Royal looked at his wrist and the watch that wasn’t there. “I think those five minutes are up.”
“But last night, when the attacker tried to take Violet away—your new, fragile thing—you lost it, didn’t you? And you were going to pull the trigger and blow out Micah’s brains.”
Royal cocked his head and returned his focus to the detective. “Did you miss the woman who’d been savaged in the trunk? I counted at least ten deep stab wounds on her. And I saw the defensive cuts where she tried to lift her bound hands and stop her attacker.”
“I didn’t miss her.” Grim. “She’s burned in my mind.”
In Royal’s, too. “Some people won’t ever stop. Something is twisted and wrong inside of them. They do bad things and they never, ever stop.”
Curran nodded. “You got something twisted and wrong inside of you? See, the more they look at you, that’s what the Feds—and their profile on you—is saying. Is that why you’re hunting these killers? You doing your own bad thing?”
He’d always felt twisted. “I was there last night to protect Violet. I wasn’t hunting anyone.”
Curran’s eyes widened. “I think that’s your first lie.” Soft. “You used her to hunt, didn’t you? And the fact that she almost died in front of you—how the hell does that make you feel?”
Like he was splitting apart on the inside. Like his control would disintegrate at any moment. Like he needed to see her—touch her—or he would lose his mind.
“She’s out there telling the world that you’re a hero, but that couldn’t be further from the truth, could it?” Curran pushed.
Oh, so now the man started asking actual questions. “I never claimed to be a hero.”
“So you’re the villain of the story.”
“No.” Not that, either. “That would be the man who abducted and murdered Marcella White, Bailey Brown, Fiona Law, and now, Simone Wilmont.” A pause. “The same man who also abducted Violet Murphy just over two weeks ago. The same man who tried to kill her last night.” His words came out flat and hard. “The same man you should now have in custody. How convenient is that? Almost like he was tied up for you with a red bow around his neck.”
“Royal—”
“Hope you don’t let him out. If he gets out, who knows what could happen?”
“Are you threatening to kill him? Telling a cop that you are going to kill someone?”
Royal shook his head. There’s a difference between a promise and a threat, my friend. You should know me well enough to understand that fact. “I’m telling you something that I am sure your new FBI buddies have already said. And if they haven’t said it, they should. Killers like this one—they don’t stop. They can’t stop. Compulsions drive them. If you let him go, he will attack again. He’s come after Violet twice now. He’ll try for a third time.”
He should be dead.
“Micah willingly gave us his phone,” Curran revealed. “The call from Simone’s number was there, just as the call from her was listed on Violet’s phone.”
That didn’t prove jack. “Maybe Micah was standing right the hell next to her when she made the calls. Maybe Micah had a knife at her throat and he ordered her to call his phone so he could try and set up this BS story. Then he got her to call Violet. Or, considering they were fucking and Simone wanted Violet out of the way, maybe they planned the scene together.” Another option that had to be considered. “A trick to get Violet out in the middle of nowhere. See, Violet was told to come alone. I insisted on going with her.”
“The better for you to hunt and use her as your bait.”
His shoulders tensed. “ Maybe the plan wasn’t for Simone to die, but Micah decided she was expendable. After all, she wasn’t really his type, was she? Wrong hair color. He likes dark hair. Hair like Violet’s. Like Marcella White’s. Bailey Brown’s. Fiona Law’s.”
“There was a bloody wig in that trunk. Same shade as Violet’s hair.”
Royal’s lashes flickered.
And—
The door flew open. “Gentlemen!” A woman crossed the threshold. About five-foot-eight, with shoulder-length, black hair. She wore a blue business suit. Better quality and style than most FBI suits, Royal would give her that much credit, but he still recognized a Fed when he saw one.
“The hacker, I presume?” Royal murmured.
Her blue gaze flickered to him. “I have a question for you.”
“Seems to be that kind of day.”
“I’m Agent Teresa Duncan, and I want to know why…” She moved to the side. Another woman appeared. Golden skin. Long, dark hair that had been braided and now fell loosely over her shoulder. The woman’s intense gaze immediately landed on Royal. “I want to know why,” the federal agent continued, “the famous doctor of the dead has just shown up at the Savannah police station and requested to see you. ”
Well, well, well. What a perfectly timed development. Fate could occasionally smile on him.
Royal rose and inclined his head to the doctor. “Dr. Rossi.”
“In the flesh.” Her gaze assessed him. “Didn’t expect to encounter you in prison orange.”
“A temporary situation,” he assured her.
Holy hell. Beau had actually done it. Pulled off one major favor for Royal. I will be repaying him for years to come. Because Royal was standing and staring at the real-life doctor of the dead. Dr. Antonia “Tony” Rossi. A woman who could find the dead better than anyone else in the US. Her exploits were legend, and, based on the way Agent Teresa Duncan eyed her, the Fed understood just what a big deal it was to have Tony make an appearance in town and ask to see Royal.
What perfect timing. He truly was gonna owe Beau forever.
“Got some bodies you want me to find?” Tony asked, voice tinged with the faintest note of curiosity. “And it’s Rossi-Warner now.”
Right. Because she’d married the rich billionaire who’d fought a killer with her not too long ago. Royal was kind of surprised the man wasn’t trailing behind?—
A tall figure in a damn expensive black suit appeared behind Tony.
And there he is. Aiden Warner.
“What in the hell is going on here?” Curran demanded. The legs of his chair screeched as he shoved it back. He sidled around the table. “Someone want to explain this shit to me?”
Royal motioned to his hideous orange gab. “Sorry for the attire. The cops and the Feds seem to mistakenly think I’m some sort of criminal.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re not?”
“I’m not the criminal you’re after today.” I need to speed this scene along. Get out. Get to Violet. “No, I’m like you.”
Tony took a determined step toward him. “How so?” The curiosity in her voice had deepened.
“Just consider me a junior cold case solver. An Ice Breaker in training, if you will.” He motioned toward an ever-so-watchful Curran. “As the detective can tell you, we have a serial killer at work in Georgia.”
“Serial killers are often at work. A sad and terrifying truth.” Tony’s stare assessed him again.
“I think Savannah is this killer’s home base.”
“Are you making a confession right now?” Agent Duncan asked.
He shook his head. “Feds are wasting my time. I do have places to be. And I think you have bodies to find,” he told Tony. So he’d cut to the chase with her. “The winery. It’s important. Violet Murphy was abducted two weeks ago?—”
“I saw her story on the news,” Tony cut in to say. “And your story. She said you’re a hero.” A shake of her head. “Heroes don’t usually get locked up.”
“Just being questioned. Not tossed into a cage.” A smooth reply. And back to the winery and its sprawling vineyard… “Violet was taken to the old Freemont Winery outside of town. I don’t believe she was the first victim taken there.”
“Cops and crime techs searched that area,” Curran muttered.
“They didn’t search well enough. Obviously.” He smiled at Tony. Royal certainly hoped she lived up to all the hype he’d heard about her. “That’s why we needed the big guns.”
Behind Tony, her husband shifted his position ever so slightly. A small ripple of menace.
“If you review the reports on the victims—reports that I’m sure the resourceful Agent Duncan has somewhere close by—you’ll find that a very diligent crime scene tech discovered grape leaves near Marcella White’s body. Same thing happened with Fiona Law. That discovery made me curious.”
“How did you get access to the reports made by the crime scene techs?” Aiden Warner asked.
Royal waved away the question. “When I learned that interesting detail?—”
“How?” Aiden asked again.
“Through the usual channels.” I hacked my way to the details. “The grape leaves stuck out to me. Something unusual. I had some acquaintances do some research for me. Those grape leaves? Turns out, they were from?—”
“The Freemont Winery,” Tony finished.
Indeed. “Four victims so far. I’m no expert, but it seems strange that someone would just start so strong and so perfectly with his kills. Again, no expert, but don’t serials usually work up to the attacks? Perfect them? Going by that logic, wouldn’t it be possible that our killer had started longer ago than we realize? That there could be other?—”
Curran grabbed Royal’s shoulder. “You think the guy has more vics? And he hid them at the winery?”
“I think someone who is good at finding the dead should give the place a much more thorough look than it’s had before, and since the doctor of the dead has come all this way, it would be a crying shame not to use her specific talents.”
Tony put her hands on her hips. “Who owns the property?”
“Funny thing, that,” Royal returned without any pause because he’d already been digging down this particular path. “It belongs to Jonathan Freemont. He’s spent the last seven years in a memory care facility. The place withered over the years because he had no immediate family who wanted to help with the place. Though, interestingly, some of the vines are still producing. Even though no one is supposed to be taking care of them. That would be where those precious leaves came from. Vines that should have been completely dead.”
“You have captured my attention,” Tony informed him as she raised her eyebrows. “Maybe it’s the orange outfit, but I just can’t look away.”
He rolled one shoulder. “I have that effect on people. I seem to have caught the attention of the Feds, too. Agent Duncan thinks I’m the serial killer.”
Tony tilted her head to the right. “Again, according to the stories I’m seeing, I thought you were supposed to be the hero.”
“Hero, killer. It’s so hard for people to ever figure things out completely.”
Tony’s gaze shifted to Curran. “Can you get me approval to search that property?”
“I—”
“We can get approval,” Agent Duncan interrupted to say. “It’s still a crime scene because of Violet Murphy’s abduction.” She hurried closer to Tony. “I’ve heard about you. You’ve worked with several colleagues that I have at the Bureau.” A brief pause and then, “I would very much like to see you in action.”
“There may be nothing to see,” Tony returned without missing a beat.
Royal thought that—unfortunately—there would be plenty to see. “Shame the Feds and the local PD all missed following up on such an important clue. So glad I could assist in the investigation.” Now, enough of this interrogation BS. He slanted a glance at Curran. “I believe that last allotted five minutes have come and very much gone. Shall I call my lawyer? Or is this gonna be the part where you just let me walk out…because we both know you have jack and shit to hold me on?”
Curran and Teresa Duncan shared a long look. Then she inclined her head.
Ah, so the Feds were very much in charge and pulling the strings. An important point.
“I’ll escort you out,” Curran told him. “But be prepared, I may have follow-up questions.”
“Fantastic to know.” But he let the detective lead the way and paused only long enough to say, “It was a pleasure, doctor.”
Tony shook her dark head. Her braid slid over her shoulder. “Death is rarely a pleasure.”
“Depends on who is dying.”
Her brows lifted once more. “You are an unusual man.”
“I get that a lot.”
Curran pushed him toward the door. Aiden Warner assessed him, then stepped aside so that Royal and Curran could pass. And as Royal walked into the waiting corridor…
“Well, hello, beautiful,” Royal crooned. He extended his hand toward the German Shepherd who waited with perfect patience for her human. “Banshee, isn’t it? Your reputation has proceeded you.” As if he wouldn’t recognize the doctor of the dead’s dog.
Banshee delicately sniffed him. Stared up with her deep and gorgeous eyes. And patiently continued to wait for Tony.
“How the hell do you know the dog’s name?” Curran asked.
“I know because Banshee is Tony’s partner. If Tony came here looking for the dead, then no way would she leave Banshee behind.” He could have sworn the dog smiled at him.
But Curran kept urging him forward so Royal didn’t get to linger.
“You are running too many games,” Curran whispered.
Royal laughed softly. “Like you aren’t, my friend?”
“Oh, cut the shit. It’s me and it’s you right now.” But he cut a quick, worried glance over his shoulder before focusing on Royal once more. “You had to know the cops and Feds were watching you and that I’d be pushed to tail your crazy ass. What was I supposed to do? Let you shoot the prick in the face?”
That would have been an option. “Where is Violet?” He kept walking down the hallway with Curran.
“I’m taking you to her now. Jeez, breathe a minute, would you? I have her in my office. She had to go through the grilling process just like you. And, FYI, she’s still as freaking protective of you as she was the first time I met her.”
His chest ached. “You shouldn’t still have her at the station.”
“Oh, yeah, please, tell me more about how to do my job. Love that shit.”
Royal stopped. Glared.
“I get it.” An inhale from Curran. “You want to kick my ass. Rip my head off. Chop me up and feed me to the alligators you used to talk about so much that lived in the swamps of Louisiana.”
“I need Violet.”
Curran faced off with him. “I had a job to do. Believe it or not, I was helping your fool ass. You are welcome.”
“ Violet.” Curran was in his path. Either the guy would move or Royal would move him.
“All right, slow your roll. Just one damn thing first, okay?” Curran glanced around, then back at Royal. “No marks.”
“What?”
“Your Violet said she tased her attacker. Stabbed him and tased him.”
“Micah had a stab wound.”
“Yeah, and we had to take him to the hospital to get it stitched up. He’s still at the damn hospital—with guards—but you know what he doesn’t have? Marks from a taser.”
So what? “Maybe the taser didn’t make contact. He has the knife wound.” That should be enough.
“And he says someone ran up and stabbed him! I’m just warning you—all the pieces don’t fit. They don’t. ”
They rarely ever fit perfectly. “While you were trailing me, did you see anyone else at that service station?”
Curran shook his head.
“So either Micah is the bad guy…or someone else is. Someone who got away. That’s what you’re telling me. The perp could still be out there.” Royal assessed possibilities even as his gaze swept over Curran. “Unless it was you, old friend.”
“What?” Shock rippled across Curran’s face.
“You were there. Lurking about in the darkness. Watching everything. Are you hiding any wounds I might need to know about? Can’t say for sure how deeply Violet stabbed her attacker.” He took a step closer to Curran. “You were at the scene. Maybe you ditched the mask in the dark. Switched clothes. Maybe it was you. ”
Curran’s chin whipped up. “Now you think I’m a killer?”
“Only fair, isn’t it?” he returned with a shrug. “You think I’m one. You think?—”
“ Royal!”
Violet’s voice. Violet’s voice pouring over him, and he shouldered past the detective. Violet rushed from the end of the hallway. She wore soft gray sweats and a t-shirt that was far too big for her. Her hair spilled down her back. Her face was too pale. And her eyes—her eyes lit up when they locked on Royal.
“Just watch her,” Curran advised, voice grim. “I don’t think this is over.”
It won’t be over until you let me put her attacker six feet under.
Royal reached for Violet, and she threw herself against him. Immediately, his arms closed around her. He lifted her up against him, and Royal knew he held her too tightly. He should ease his grip. He should.
He didn’t. He buried his face in the fall of her hair and inhaled her sweet scent. Lilacs for his Violet. “Sweetheart…”
“I told them you had saved me. I told them that Simone called me and asked me to come meet her. That you warned me it was a trap, but I convinced you to go with me anyway.” She shuddered against him. “Simone is dead. They told me she died—that she never spoke again.” Violet pulled back. When she looked at him, there were tears gleaming in her eyes. “I told all the cops that she said Micah’s name. She told me that he was the one to attack her.” A tear spilled down her cheek. “There was so much blood on her. Everywhere. And she’s dead. That could have been me. It would have been me. Without you.”
“It will never be you.” Over his dead body. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Reporters are out front,” Curran warned.
Fine. “Then we’ll go out back.”
“Out that way, too.”
Figured they were.
“But your buddy Beau has a limo waiting at the curb for you,” Curran added with a wave of his hand. “I’ll get you a police escort to it.”
Right. Sure. A police escort as he wore prison orange. Whatever. Like he gave a damn. There would be no more standing in the shadows. Not now. The world had seen him. Some would think he was a villain. The cops and Feds did. But others would think he was more. Because of Violet.
Minutes later, they were rushing through the crowd of reporters who did, in fact, wait outside. Royal curled his body closely around Violet’s and didn’t let anyone else get near enough to touch her. Reporters hurled questions at them, but Royal didn’t stop to answer anything. He just wanted to get Violet away.
He recognized the man standing near the back of the limo. Kai. A friend of his and Beau’s. Hell, technically Kai was Beau’s right-hand man at LeBlanc’s. But, like Royal, Kai knew all about getting his hands dirty.
Kai was also the guy that Royal had recently hired to keep an extra eye on Violet. When you had something precious, you needed someone you trusted to be close in case of an emergency.
He trusted Kai. Kai was the kind of man who would walk through fire for a friend. Literally. Kai had been there and done that before.
Kai dipped his head toward Royal. “Was starting to think you were enjoying the time at the station too much.”
Royal grunted. “You know me. I do love spending time with cops.” He urged Violet inside the limo. “Take us home,” he told Kai.
“Gladly.”
Royal ducked inside and yanked the door closed behind him. The shouted questions were immediately muted, and he found himself sitting across from Violet as the limo swiftly drove from the scene.
Violet’s breath shuddered in and out. “Is it…over?”
He didn’t move.
“They have Micah. Simone identified him. I stabbed him.” Her hands twisted in her lap. “They’re not going to let him go, are they? It’s over? I’m safe?”
“You’re safe, sweetheart.” I will keep you safe. I swear it.
But…
Curran’s words whispered through his mind and made Royal’s gut knot. All the pieces don’t fit. They don’t.