Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Violet poked her head inside the study. Her tousled hair slid over her shoulder. “I wanted to check on you.” Her golden eyes swept over both Beau and Royal. “You two good?”
Hell, no, he was not good. But Royal pasted a smile on his face. “Be right out, sweetheart.”
She nodded.
“Has that prick brother of yours apologized yet?” Royal heard himself ask.
She bit her lip. “You…you seriously punched him because of something we did when we were kids? Because he locked me in a closet during a game of hide and seek?”
“Because that’s normal,” Beau murmured. “Totally normal response to a long-ago situation.”
Royal cut him a disgusted glance. Then he focused on what mattered. Violet. “He shouldn’t have scared you.” And I shouldn’t have put you at risk. I should have handcuffed you to the bed. There’s where I’d like for you to be right now.
Handcuffed. To my bed.
“You can’t go around attacking my brother.” She shook her head. “You do stuff like that, and Christmas will be extremely awkward for everyone.” Violet turned around and closed the door softly behind her.
Christmas?
Beau whistled. “Oh, yeah. Sure. You’re not hopelessly and completely in love with her. Totally. Not you. Because it’s ever so normal to punch and throat-grab a guy because of hide and seek?”
“She was scared,” he bit off.
“ You’re scared now. Scared that you’re going to lose her. Scared that she won’t accept you and all those twisted pieces you think you have inside yourself. News flash, Royal. You’re not some psychopathic predator. Maybe start using those skills of yours for good. Work with the Ice Breakers. Bring closure to victims. Help people. You can have a normal life. Have friggin’ Christmas with her.” He slapped a hand around Royal’s shoulder. “Be happy. Stop thinking you aren’t good enough.”
He stiffened. Beau had not just gone there.
“I know you, brother. Inside and out. I know it’s burned you alive over the years—always thinking you weren’t good enough and that your family tossed you away.”
“They did toss me away.” Because they’d known even then that something was wrong with me? The thought that had run through his head all his life.
My family abandoned me when I was two years old. What in the hell had a two-year-old done that was so bad his family walked away and left him on a New Orleans street?
“I am your family,” Beau told him fiercely. “I will never toss you away. I will never walk away.”
No, Beau would not. Beau would try to fix him, as he’d done over and over again during their lives. Beau would try to help him. Always. Even when the guy should cut his losses and walk away. “You got the doctor of the dead to come to town for me.”
“Just working my usual miracles.”
“She’s going to find more bodies.”
“Then maybe she’ll find proof on those bodies that will keep that prick Micah locked up. Because so what if he doesn’t have marks from a taser? Maybe it didn’t leave marks. Maybe it didn’t cut through his clothes. Did you actually see him go down from the charge?”
No, he hadn’t. Royal gave a negative shake of his head.
“I’d do anything for you.” Beau’s face had gone very, very serious. “I’d help you bury a body any day of the week, you know that. Only when we bury them, even the doctor of the dead wouldn’t be able to dig them back up.” Beau squeezed his shoulder. “I’m your family,” he said again. “And that woman out there? The woman who has those sad eyes that look like she’s just seen into hell? Why don’t you try telling her how you really feel? Because I get the feeling she already knows some of your secrets, and she’s not running away. Instead, she’s coming in to check on you. She’s running to you.”
Royal swallowed. “I’m not good for her.”
“Then be bad for her. Be the baddest bastard in the world. Be the bastard who protects her from any and every threat. You’re good at that kind of thing.” He let Royal go. “Now shall we go back and pretend that we’re civilized?”
“I’ll never be civilized.”
“Yeah, well, being civilized is boring as hell, so I figure it just was never for us.”
“She needs someone civilized,” he heard himself say. “Someone polished. Someone who’ll always be a gentleman.” And not fuck her in the back of a car on the way home from a police station.
“Gentleman don’t get jack done.” Beau laughed. “You think a gentleman would know how to handle a killer? Not likely. Besides, why are you rattling off negatives? Let’s be positive. You’ve got money to burn, you worship the woman, and you’ll break the hand of anyone who hurts her. Win, win, win.” He sauntered for the door. “Pretend you have control. Even if you don’t. I don’t know her brother, so I don’t trust him. We never show our weaknesses to those we don’t trust.”
Royal didn’t show his weaknesses to anyone.
Just like he didn’t share his deepest, darkest secrets with anyone but Beau.
Except… I shared with Violet.
“Tell her you love her. See what she does. I think it might surprise you.” Beau’s back was to him.
“I…don’t.”
“Ah, cute. That lie just got caught in your throat.” Beau looked back. “Want to try saying the words while you stare into my eyes? Wanna try lying right to my face? Think you can pull it off?”
Royal didn’t speak.
“Didn’t think so,” Beau muttered, satisfied. “Just like I don’t think you’ll be able to lie to her face.”
“She’ll…leave.” Shit. Why the hell had that slipped out?
Beau shook his head. “When they love you back—when someone really loves you—they don’t leave.” A pause. “I didn’t leave.”
But what if she doesn’t love me back?
And then, from the darkest part of himself… Why would she love me?
“What in the hell is happening here?” Micah yanked at the handcuff around his right wrist. The cuff attached to the railing on the side of his hospital bed. “I’m a victim! Victim! I should be treated with care and respect, and I shouldn’t have my ass handcuffed!” He yanked at the cuff again.
“Easy.” FBI Agent Teresa Duncan edged closer to the bed.
The detective—Curran Barlow—was right behind her. They’d arrived in Micah’s room moments ago.
“We have some follow-up questions for you,” Teresa said.
“Fuck your follow-ups!” Spittle flew from his mouth. “I need more pain meds.” Where was the button for the nurse? A damn uniformed cop had been watching him for hours. He’d been trapped in the hospital bed, and Micah wanted out. “They had to stitch me up! Do you know that? I have like, six or seven stitches because the damn blade sliced me so badly!”
“I am aware,” Teresa replied as if it were no big deal at all.
His life. No big deal. “This is bullshit. I want the cuff off. I told you—over and over—that I had nothing to do with the attack on Simone!”
“Not just an attack. We’re talking about the matter of Simone Wilmont’s murder,” Curran inserted.
Murder. Simone is dead. He stopped yanking on the handcuff. “I got a call from her. She told me she needed a ride. I went to help.” His same story. He wasn’t changing his tune. He’d told the cops this crap before. “I arrived and some guy in a black mask and funny glasses ran at me.”
“Funny glasses?” Curran prompted.
“Night vision BS, okay? He ran at me. Stabbed me. Then the next thing I know, I’m bleeding, I’m hurting, and Violet’s crazy boyfriend has a gun in my face.” His stare swept toward the cop. “You know the rest. You were there.” The prick had cuffed him even as Micah lay bleeding on the ground.
“We found discarded night vision goggles near the location you were discovered,” Teresa informed him.
“Fantastic for you.”
“No prints were on them.”
“Whatever.”
“You say you never saw Simone at the gas station?” Teresa’s head tilted to the right.
He swallowed. His throat felt raw and achy. “That’s what I said.”
“What about Violet?” the detective asked him. “Did you see her out there?”
“Just her gun-crazy boyfriend,” Micah groused. But… “He’s the one you should be questioning. He attacked me. Maybe he found out that Simone let Violet be taken that first night, and he got pissed and he decided to get some revenge and he—” Micah clamped his lips shut.
Too late.
Teresa stepped closer to his bed. “How did you know that Simone saw Violet get taken from the theater?”
“She didn’t just see her get taken.” Soft laughter came from him. A little rusty because his throat was so dry. “I think that—once Violet was back—I think that Simone made the light fall on Violet. I think she rigged the coffin to lock on her. Simone could be one cold bitch.” Something he’d admired about her. “She wanted Violet’s role, and she would have done anything to get it.”
Silence.
Then, from the detective, “That’s one hell of a way to speak about the dead. Want to tell me again how the woman who sustained over ten deep knife wounds into her body was one ‘cold bitch’ as you called her?”
Shit.
“And while you’re telling us about that,” Teresa sent him a chilling smile, “why don’t you just tell us exactly what you know about a woman named Fiona Law?”
Fiona. Fuck.
“Just like Simone, Fiona was abducted and stabbed to death.” Teresa blinked her pale blue eyes at him. “What would you know about her?”
Too much.
He was gonna need a lawyer, stat. A damn good one.
“I’m sorry for locking Violet in the closet,” Dawson said as soon as Royal stepped back into the den. “I was a dumb punk kid.” He pressed a wet, bloody cloth to his lower lip. “I freaked out and ran when the door jammed because I didn’t know what to do. I was an absolute ass, and I never scared my sister again like that. Never.”
Violet stood beside Dawson. Her gaze darted between her brother and Royal.
“I was thrilled when she told me that she’d been cast to do a show here in Savannah. Thought it would be a great chance for us to reconnect. Our mom died a few years ago, and I missed my family.” Dawson lowered the cloth. “Instead, some psycho abducts her. When she comes to stay with me, she’s terrified and screaming in the middle of the night.”
Royal hated her fear.
“And then, the next thing I know, she’s telling me that she’s moving in with some club owner—some guy I have heard is tied to way too much trouble—and now… this. ” Dawson’s eyes—a slightly darker gold than Violet’s—flared with fury. “She’s almost killed? I can’t get hold of her, and I’m seeing these news stories and then—then you attack me!” A shake of his head. “I don’t like you, man.”
“The feeling is pretty mutual,” Royal agreed silkily.
“Stop it.” Violet stepped between them. “You attacked him, Royal. But he just apologized to you!”
“His apology should be for you. Not me. You’re the one he left in the closet.”
“I went back!” Dawson cried. “I tried to pry the dang door off! But it wouldn’t budge.” His breath heaved. “I was a kid! Scared as hell, but I swore then that I would never just stand by while my sister was afraid again.” Dawson moved to her side. “But look what I’m doing.” His shoulders slumped. “Twice you’ve been in danger—three times if you count that mess at the theater?—”
Royal did count that as an attack.
“And I haven’t done anything to help you.” An exhale. “I want to help. Come back home with me, Violet. I’ll stay with you. Parker has gotten leave. He’ll be flying in as soon as he can. We can keep you safe.” His right hand fisted the cloth, but his left reached out to curl around Violet’s fingers. “We are your family. You belong with me and Parker.”
We are your family.
A blood family. One raised together. A family that had never abandoned her. She would choose to go with her brother, Royal knew that. He was just trying to figure out how to stop himself from demanding—begging?—that she stay with him.
Don’t leave me. I can be better. I will be better.
Violet’s gaze swept toward him.
Beau was at his side. Kai was trying to be invisible a few feet away and…Violet pulled her hand from Dawson. She walked across the room with slow, graceful steps. A dancer’s steps. She stopped in front of Royal. Tilted back her head. Then reached for Royal’s hand. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
The drumming of Royal’s heartbeat seemed far too loud. Maybe that drumming had made him misunderstand her. He shook his head.
Pain flashed on her face. “Don’t you want me to be here?”
“You’re the only thing I want.” Flat.
“Good.” He heard the click of her swallow. “Because I’m not leaving you.”
Those words seemed to tear open something inside of him. He hauled her against him. Royal’s mouth took hers. Claiming and consuming and worshipping all at the same time.
“Ahem.” From close by. And followed immediately by a tap on Royal’s shoulder. He wanted to ignore the tap, but he knew he couldn’t.
“Really need to talk about the little matter of a serial killer,” Beau informed him.
Yeah. They did.
Royal eased away from Violet. To be one hundred percent sure, he asked, “You’re choosing me?”
“Always.”
Hell, yes.
He stepped back, but brought her hand to his mouth so he could press a kiss to her knuckles.
“I thought the cops had someone in custody.” Dawson’s voice was tight. “They’re not letting him go, are they? They’ve got the killer? If they let him go after what he’s done to my sister, I will kill him myself.”
Royal laughed softly. “Get in line.”
Dawson paled.
“By the way, sorry for the hit.” This was Violet’s brother, and he certainly didn’t want Christmas to be awkward. And I want every Christmas with her. “And for the throat grab.”
“You’re apologizing?” Dawson squinted suspiciously at him.
Didn’t it sound like he was? “But you ever do anything to so much as hurt her feelings, and you and I will have a problem.”
“Control,” Beau rasped.
“What?” Royal rolled back his shoulders. “I said sorry. ”
“But then you threatened him,” Beau pointed out.
“I never claimed to be perfect.” Now, to focus… “Who wants to know about the serial killer?”
Five hours later, Detective Curran Barlow knocked at Royal’s door.
Royal saw the guy on his security monitor and figured Curran was there to do one of three things.
Option A… He’s here to arrest my ass.
Option B… He’s here to tell me that he’s arrested Micah Wright for the murder of Simone Wilmont.
Or, Option C… He’s here to tell me that he cut Micah free.
Royal took his time going for the door. Violet and her brother were in the kitchen cooking with Beau. As for Kai, his friend was keeping watch. Out of sight, but close enough to rush forward in an emergency.
Royal opened the door. The detective appeared extra grim, with deeper lines cutting near his mouth and eyes. “You look like shit,” Royal told him.
Curran grunted. “One day, those compliments will hurt my feelings.” His stare swept over Royal. “I see you ditched the prison orange.”
“For the moment.” A pause. “You here to critique my wardrobe? Or was there another reason for this special visit?”
Curran glanced back at the reporters who waited just beyond Royal’s property line, then his gaze returned to Royal. “You gonna let me over the threshold?”
“Got a warrant?”
Curran’s jaw hardened. “Like that, is it?”
“You tell me, Detective Barlow . ”
“Can’t. Too many eyes on us.” A low whisper. Then he rolled back his shoulders. His voice rose as he said, “Thought you and Violet might like to know that Micah Wright has been placed under arrest for the murder of Simone Wilmont.”
Tension slid to the pit of Royal’s belly. “Thought you weren’t so sure he was the bad guy. What about those taser marks you mentioned?”
“Maybe the taser never connected with him. Other evidence is strong. The Feds think he fits for the crimes.”
“Do tell.”
“Let me into the house. Don’t really want to lay out the whole case on your front porch.”
Royal backed up a step.
“Thanks. Really rolling out the welcome mat, aren’t you?”
“At least I didn’t toss you into the back of a patrol car.”
Curran winced. He also shut the door behind him.
Footsteps tapped toward them. Royal wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Violet, Dawson, and Beau hurrying right for him and Curran.
“What’s happening?” Violet asked. Her eyes were wide as she immediately moved to Royal’s side.
Curran surveyed the group. His attention lingered a bit on Dawson. “The brother, I presume? You have her eyes. A little darker.”
“What’s happening?” Dawson echoed Violet.
Beau didn’t ask questions. He just waited.
“An arrest has been made,” Curran told them. “Came here personally to share the news that Micah Wright is being charged with Simone Wilmont’s murder.”
“What made you change your mind?” Royal asked.
“Never said my mind needed changing. But there were procedures to follow. We recovered a knife in the field about fifty yards from the gas station. Turns out, that bloody knife matches a set in Micah’s home. Appears the bastard took his butcher knife from home to carve up Simone.”
Violet sucked in a sharp breath.
“More circumstantial evidence has piled up against him, material I am not at liberty to discuss just yet. However, I believe you might find it interesting to know that Micah briefly dated Fiona Law last year. She left him and told her friends he was too controlling.” His hands remained loose at his sides even as his attention shifted back to Royal. “But something tells me you already knew about his connection to Fiona, didn’t you?”
Yeah, he might know about that. “If you and your new Fed friend keep digging, you’ll see he frequently traveled to Atlanta. Did a lot of work with the ballet there.” No emotion entered Royal’s voice. He made sure of that fact. “You might even discover that he often visited the restaurant where Marcella White served as assistant manager.”
Violet’s shoulder bumped into his arm.
“And just when were you going to share that intel with me?” Curran burst out. He stepped even closer to Royal. “Or were you not going to share? This part of your vigilante BS? You were closing in for the kill?”
“I believe that Micah is still breathing, thanks to you, detective. As to when I was going to share intel, you’re the detective. Thought you’d have intel of your own. Or at least, I would have thought your Fed buddy would.” He smiled and knew the sight would hold no humor. “The news about Micah’s visits to the restaurant just came to me a few hours ago. Someone I knew in Atlanta saw the news story about Simone’s murder. Micah’s picture—and my own—have been flashed everywhere as a result of that story. This person thought I might find the connection… pertinent.”
“Yeah, it’s real pertinent, all right. That person got a name? Because I’ll be wanting to follow up.”
“I’ll be sure and send you all the contact information.” He waited a beat. “Is Micah still in the hospital or has he been transferred to a holding cell?”
Curran shook his head. “Not telling you where he is right now. Just wanted you to know that he was being charged.” He waved toward Violet. “It’s over. You are safe now. You can go back to the life you had.” His expression hardened. “I would really recommend that you go back to that life.”
He means a life before me.
“Apparently, that life involved working right beside a sadistic killer,” Violet returned in her cool, quiet voice. “So I think I’ll try something different in the future.” She did not move from Royal’s side.
“Ah, excuse me.” Dawson barreled forward. “Why won’t you tell us where he is? If this guy is after my sister, I damn well would like to know if he’s in some hospital bed with minimum security or if he’s locked in a cell. I really, really want his ass locked away.”
“I’m not saying for Micah’s safety.”
“For his safety?” Dawson’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You kidding me?”
Curran returned his dark stare to Royal. “No, I’m not kidding you. He’ll get a real judge and jury to decide his fate. I don’t want him dead before arraignment.” An incline of his head. “We’ll be talking soon, Royal.”
“Can’t wait, buddy.”
Curran left. Royal shut and bolted the door behind him. Beau crept close to him. “Might want to secure everything in the house,” Beau murmured. A murmur meant for Royal alone. “In case any cops decide they do want to come back here with a warrant.”
Yeah, he’d be taking care of things.
“Need a hand with that?” Beau asked.
Royal gave a slight nod.
“On it.” Beau walked away, whistling as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Some family members were absolutely priceless.
“ What is happening?” Dawson seemed to practically vibrate. “Why is a cop acting like you’re a breath away from committing murder or something?” He stared at Royal as if Royal was…yeah, the monster.
Some family members are gonna be a pain in my ass. “Probably shouldn’t ask questions if you don’t truly want to hear the answers.”
“Hell.” Dawson swallowed. His Adam’s apple clicked. “Hell,” he repeated.
Violet stepped between Dawson and Royal. She stared straight up at Royal, and he could see the hope in her eyes. “The cops aren’t letting Micah go.”
Not unless some dumbass judge gave him a bail that Micah could meet. And in that case… I may have to hunt again. Instead of saying that, though, because her brother already looked close enough to fainting, Royal responded, “My gut tells me that the doctor of the dead is going to turn up more evidence.” He’d told Violet all about Tony’s arrival.
“You mean she’ll turn up more victims.”
He dipped his head toward her. “If the cops and Feds get enough proof, Micah will never see the light of a free day again.” His hand rose, and his fingers curled carefully under her chin. “You are safe.”
And I will keep you that way.