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When hell freezes over.
Because he had no intention of ever talking to his father again. When your dear old dad framed you for murder—and turned out to be one of the most twisted serial killers in existence—it tended to make you want to cut ties.
Especially when there were too many folks out there who kept thinking that you were a chip off the old sadistic block.
Once more, Alina’s voice drifted through his head. It was great meeting you. Scary, at first, but I’m glad you walked into my rink.
Just how long would she stay glad? He glanced at the ice.
He fucking hated the cold.
***
Ryker Bellamy stared at the photo on his desk. A photo that had been in his car, waiting for him, a week ago.
A photo of his daughter. One taken while she was mid-spin on the ice. Not a promotional image. Not something taken by one of the photographers he hired. Not even the usual press people.
Alina wore her workout uniform. No makeup.
A red X had been drawn over her body.
Swallowing, he flipped over the photo and reread the message he’d already studied at least a hundred times.
You can’t escape the past.
Then, beneath those scrawled words…
How much is she worth to you?
Everything. Alina was everything. And she would be safe. She had to be safe. Midas Monroe was supposed to be the best. Sure, he hadn’t told Midas everything, but there was no need. Midas would protect her. He’d stay close. He’d be her bodyguard.
No one needs to know what’s happening. Because if the full truth came out, Ryker’s life could be destroyed.
Slowly, deliberately, he tore up the photo. Tore it into as many tiny pieces as he could.
No one threatened him. Or his daughter.
Alina would be safe.
There was no other alternative. He wouldn’t lose her. He’d lost her mother. He would not lose his Alina.
Midas Monroe had one job.
Keep her safe.
He’d better fucking do his job.
Chapter Two
“No, no, no, no…no.” Alina shook her head and tried turning the key in the ignition one more, desperate time. The engine sputtered, and she thought that she was going to get the vehicle to crank. Hope had her heart racing but—
The sputtering died away. The brief flare of her headlights also died away, and she was thrown into darkness on the long, lonely road.
“Dammit.” Things had been perfect until five minutes ago. When her engine had started making a weird, grinding sound. When her speed had suddenly decreased. When she’d barely made it to the side of the road before the car died.
A car that was barely a year old. Excellent condition.
This should not have happened.
