The Violet Hour by TL Dyer

Author:TL Dyer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Edge of the Roof Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Every muscle in Vivian’s body seized. The blood froze in her veins.

It was the second time tonight she had heard that name. Before then, and before the detective, no one else had called her that in almost two years.

She tried to push Jasper away, but his grip was tight and he was so lost to his desire he hadn’t even noticed she’d dropped her hands and stopped moving. He must have thought her gasping breath was for another reason than what it really was. Which was panic. Pure, blood-draining panic. Her eyes scanned over the drinks cabinet for something she could use. They landed on the ice bucket and inside it the metal ice breaker with its sharpened point that would inflict minimal damage but little else other than stoke the man’s rage. Whoever he was. Whatever he knew.

She seized instead the half-full whiskey bottle from its silver tray and raised her arm, bringing it down hard against the corner of the walnut drinks cabinet. In less than the time it took Jasper to register what had happened, his whole body jumping backwards, she spun around and held the bottle’s lethal jagged edge just inches from his chin.

His hands shot up, his eyes flew wide. “What the hell!” he shouted over his still panting breath.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice low and hard to stop it from shaking. She had less success stopping her fist from quivering, but she disguised it by tugging her dress down from her hips with her free hand.

“Wha… I don’t under—” His mouth fell open as he replayed the last few minutes in his head on warp speed and something about it jumped out at him. His mistake.

“Who the fuck are you?” she yelled this time, fear overtaking her.

“Whoa, whoa…”

“Jesus. Just answer the question. Now.” It had to be now. Before Ike walked in through that door. “That’s not my name. Where did you get that name from?”

“I don’t… I…” His eyes searched everywhere for the answer. Whiskey ran down her arm, its stink turning her stomach. She jabbed the end of the bottle towards him and he jerked back another step.

“Does he know?” she asked.

“What?”

“Does he know?” she repeated louder, the bottle neck gripped so tight in her fist she was probably close to breaking it.

“Know? You mean Ike?” His mouth gaped for something that wasn’t coming. But then, with no other way out of this, something in his expression changed. “I can tell you. But please…” He pointed at the broken bottle. “Put that down. If Ike comes back I don’t want to have to explain this. Do you?”

She glared at him. How dare you, she wanted to say. How fucking dare you? But he was right. How could she explain what this looked like to Ike? And what might this man do or say if she lied?

“I won’t hurt you, Violet. I promise you.” His voice was quiet, almost sincere, and he appeared more than a little self-defeated as he zipped up his pants and pointed again at the bottle in her hand.

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