“Cops don’t know. Grave said the car was stolen. Nash hasn’t given them a description of the suspect yet.”
“Does he remember what happened?”
I shrugged and squinted up at the sky that was turning pink and purple as the sun worked its way off the horizon. “I don’t know, man. He was pretty fucked up on anesthesia and whatever they put in his IV.”
“I’ll start digging,” Lucian assured me.
“Let me know what you find. I’m not getting cut out of this.”
“Of course not.” He studied me for a beat. “You look like shit. You should get some sleep.”
“People keep telling me that.”
Lucian, on the other hand, looked like he’d just walked out of the board room in a slick suit sans tie.
“Maybe you should listen,” he said.
“He almost died, Luce. After I was an asshole to him, he almost bled out in a fucking ditch.”
Lucian stubbed out his cigarette in the concrete ashtray. “We’ll make it right.”
I nodded. I knew we would. This wouldn’t stand. And the man who’d put a bullet in my brother would pay.
“And you’ll make the rest of it right too,” he said, words clipped. “You both wasted enough fucking time. It’s done now.” Only Lucian Rollins could make a statement like that and will it into reality.
I thought of Naomi’s proclamation. Maybe we had been idiots wasting time we thought we’d had. “It’s done,” I agreed.
“Good. I was tired of my childhood best friends acting like they were still children.”
“Is that why you came back?”
His expression darkened. “One of the reasons.”
“One of those other reasons have anything to do with a pretty little librarian who hates your guts?”
He sighed, absently patting his pockets.
“Already had your one,” I reminded him.
“Fuck,” he muttered. It was as flustered as he allowed himself to get.
I had the temper. Nash had the good nature. And Lucian had the self-control of a fucking monk.
“Whatever happened with you two anyway?” I asked, enjoying the distraction of his discomfort.
“Your brother is in an ICU bed,” Lucian said. “That’s the only reason I’m not knocking your teeth out right now.”
As close as we’d all been, the one thing Lucian never shared was what made Sloane hate him. Up until last night, I’d thought the feeling was mutual. But I’d seen his face when he saw her, when she walked away. I didn’t know much about feelings, but whatever was written all over his face didn’t look like hate to me.
“You probably don’t even remember how to throw a punch,” I teased. “All those conference room negotiations. You just sic your lawyers on people instead of delivering a nice right cross to the face. Bet it’s less satisfying.”
“You can take the boy out of Knockemout but you can’t take the Knockemout out of the boy,” he said.
I hoped it was true. “Appreciate you bein’ here.”
He nodded. “I’ll stay with him until Liza comes back in.”
“That’d be good,” I said.
We stood in silence, legs braced as the sun rose, adding gold to the pink and purple. A new day had officially begun. A lot of things were gonna change, and I was keyed up to make it all happen.
“Get some sleep.” Lucian dug into his pocket and tossed me his keys. “Take my car.”
I caught them midair and hit the unlock button. A shiny Jaguar blinked its headlights at me from a primo parking spot.
“Always did have good taste.”
“Some things never change.”
But some things had to.
“I’ll see you later, man.”
He nodded. And then I surprised the hell out of us both by wrapping him in a hard one-armed hug.
“Missed you, brother.”
KNOX KNOX. WHO’S THERE?
Naomi
Iwas torn from a fitful sleep on the couch by pounding at the front door. Disoriented, I stumbled around the coffee table and tried to remember where I was.
The $20,000 in cash still tucked away in my apron.
Nash.
Knox.
Waylay’s first day of school.
No wonder I’d fallen prey to a nap attack.
I opened the door and found a freshly showered Knox standing on the welcome mat. Waylon trotted inside, wagging his tail.
“Hey,” I croaked.
A man of few words, Knox said nothing and stepped over the threshold. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. He looked tense like he was spoiling for a fight. Well, if he’d come here for a fight, he was going to be disappointed. I was too tired to deliver one.
“How’s your brother?” I ventured.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Long recovery ahead. But he’ll be okay. Get Way off to school this morning?”
His brother had been shot, and the man remembered to ask about Waylay’s first day. I didn’t know how to reconcile that with the jerk who yelled at me in front of his own customers. If he could ever settle fully into the thoughtful grump and give up the pissed-off bad boy, he’d make some woman very lucky someday.
“Yeah,” I yawned. “She slept at Liza’s last night since I didn’t get home until late. Liza, Stef, and I made her send-off breakfast there. Stef made chocolate chip pancakes even though I told him spikes in blood sugar make kids tired and unfocused at school.”
I was tired and unfocused, not because of pancakes but because Knox’s edginess made me nervous.
“Uh, speaking of Stef, I think he and Jeremiah might be into each other,” I said, grasping for a topic that would warrant some kind of verbal reaction.
But Knox remained silent as he prowled the tiny living room, looking much too big to belong here. He was a man with a lot of feelings locked up tight. Part of me wanted to crack him open. The other part wanted to just go back to bed and forget everything for a few hours.
“Do you want some coffee? Maybe some alcohol?” I offered, following him as he moved toward the kitchen, his hands clenching into fists only to release again. Over and over again.
I didn’t have any beer, and the hardest alcohol in the house was a cheap rosé I’d been planning to crack open with Sloane. But I could sacrifice it for the guy whose brother had just been shot.
He picked up the pretty yellow leaf on the counter. I’d found it in the lane that morning after walking Waylay to the bus. The temperatures still said summer, but the change to fall was inevitable.
Waylon hopped up on the couch in the living room.
“Make yourself at home,” I told the dog. When I turned to face Knox, he was closing the distance between us.
“Naomi.”
His voice was rough as it caressed the syllables of my name, and then his hands were on me, yanking me into him. His mouth found mine, and I was lost to sensation. Drowning in desire.
Neither of us wanted to want this. Maybe that’s what made it feel so damn good. One hand slid into my hair while the other pressed my lower back until I was flush against him.
“Knox,” I breathed. “This isn’t what you want,” I reminded him.
“It’s what I need,” he said before diving back into the kiss.
This wasn’t the kiss from the waiting room. This was different, desperate.
I lost myself in it. Every thought tumbled out of my head until I was nothing but feeling. His mouth was hard and demanding, just like the man. I softened under him. Welcoming him.
He responded by tugging at my hair to angle my head just the way he wanted as he slanted his mouth over mine. His tongue didn’t twine or dance with mine—it battled mine into submission.
He stole my breath, my logic, every reason why this was a terrible idea. He took them all and made them disappear.
“That’s what I need, baby. I need to feel you go soft under me. Need you to let me have you.”
I couldn’t tell if this was dirty talk or romantic prose. Whichever side of the line his words fell on, I loved it.
His fingers found the strap of my dress. My heartbeat skittered into high gear as he slid the fabric an inch down my shoulder, leaving my skin burning.
He needed this. Me. And I lived to be needed.
I reached for his shirt and slid my hands under the hem, finding the rigid muscle under warm skin.
For once in his life, Knox appeared to be feeling helpful and yanked the shirt over his head with one hand. God, all that skin and muscle and ink. I dragged my nails over his chest, and he growled into my mouth.
Yes, please.
With one deft swipe, he shoved the strap of my dress off my shoulder then did the same to the other one.
“About time I find out what you’ve got on under these dresses,” he murmured.
I sank my teeth into his lower lip and yanked hard on his belt.
I cursed myself for putting on my least sexy underwear this morning. But at least I hadn’t bothered with a bra this morning. Between unsexy undies and unshackled boobs, I figured it all evened out.
He lost his jeans at about the same moment my dress slithered down my body and pooled at my ankles.
“Goddammit, baby. I fucking knew it.”
His mouth was on my neck, nibbling and kissing its way south.
I shivered. “Knew what?”
“That you’d look like this. That you had a fuck-me body.” He cupped one breast greedily.
He backed me into the fridge, and the cold metal had me yelping. “Knox!”
“I’d apologize, but you know I’m not the least bit sorry,” he said as his tongue darted out to stroke my aching nipple.
I was no longer capable of forming words. I was no longer capable of drawing in a breath. All I could do was cup his erection through his boxer briefs and hang on for dear life. When his lips closed over my nipple and he started to suck, the back of my head hit the fridge. Those deep, decadent pulls echoed all over my body, and I had a feeling he knew it.
He didn’t stop sucking as he shoved his free hand into my unsexy underwear.
We both moaned when his fingers found me.
“Knew it,” he muttered again as his mouth moved to my other breast. “Knew you’d be wet for me.”
My moan turned into a cry when he parted my slit with two fingers. The man knew what he was doing. There was no fumbling. No wasted, awkward movements. Even driven by need, every touch was magic.
“Need to feel you from the inside,” he said, brushing his beard over my sensitized nipple. When his fingers thrust into me, my knees buckled.
He was too much. Too skilled. Expert-level. Professional ruiner of vaginas. And I didn’t know if I could keep up. When he started moving those amazing fingers, I decided I didn’t care.
His penis flexed in my grip. I clumsily shoved his briefs down, freeing his thick shaft, and gripped it hard.
Knox straightened on a groan and dropped his forehead to mine as we worked each other with eager hands.
“Need you in a bed,” he growled as a drop of moisture leaked over my fingers.
I gripped him harder, stroked faster. “I sure hope you can get us to one because I can’t walk.”
“Damn, baby. Slow the fuck down,” he ordered through gritted teeth.
But I wasn’t listening. I was too busy matching the pump of his fingers inside me.
I gasped when he pulled out of my throbbing core. “Mean!” I hissed against his neck.
But just when my body felt desolate over the loss, he tossed me over his shoulder.
“Knox!”