by April Hunt
Grace tossed Zoey’s words back at her. “What’s wrong? Afraid of being around my cousin?”
“No. I like Ryder and Roman fine, and you know I have a soft spot for Liam.”
Grace’s freaky power of observation—and Zoey’s sudden jolt of nerves—had her best friend grinning ear to ear. “You know damn well they weren’t the cousin I meant.”
She did, although she wasn’t about to admit it. Out of their close-knit group, Grace was the only person privy to her far-fetched teenage Knox fantasies, and only because she’d sobbed on Grace’s shoulder more than once. His high school dating years had been particularly brutal, a close second to when he left home for boot-camp.
Grace tugged her into the pub and forced her into facing her fears. Heads immediately turned in their direction.
Zoey’s hands itched to snatch back her coat because Buffy and Faith—circa leather-clad, feuding Slayers—had been her not-so-brilliant costume idea. Little leather jackets. Butt-hugging pants. Skimpy tanks. High-heeled boots. They’d gone all out. But while Grace pulled off the Faith ensemble as if it were her typical everyday outfit, Zoey felt like she’d raided a dress-up closet.
She returned a wave from one of the station’s forensic lab techs, and mentally cursed when the hem of both her spaghetti-strapped top and her leather jacket lifted well above her belly button. She yanked them back to her waist, and then out came the Boobage Twins. Another sharp tug up, and hello stomach—again.
Grace pushed her hands away, failing to suppress a chuckle. “Will you stop? You’re going to yank the stitching apart and then you’re going to be really uncomfortable.”
“I could always zip the jacket. Oh that’s right.” Zoey slid her a stink-eye. “I can’t because someone made me buy the one that’s two sizes too small. I couldn’t zip it unless I rewind time eighteen years.”
Zoey ignored Grace’s warning and adjusted her top.
Why couldn’t the Buffster’s signature style be yoga pants and a long-sleeve Henley? For two hours, she’d planted herself in front of a mirror, forcing life into her hair. And contacts? Ha! No fewer than three pairs had been sacrificed to her sink drain—the reason behind why she still sported her un-Buffy-like frames.
“One hour.” Zoey scanned for a spot in which to lie low until she could make a clean break. “I’m giving it one hour and then I’m going home to my flannel pj’s and sadistic cat—I mean, cat.”
“Two,” Grace countered.
“One hour and fifteen minutes.”
Grace’s dark eyes narrowed, and she pointed her slender finger in Zoey’s direction like a schoolteacher. “One and a half. Final offer. But that means no hiding in the back corner. Do you hear me?”
She heard. That didn’t mean she’d listen.
With a final warning, Grace strutted to the bar to get them drinks. Left alone, Zoey weaved her way through the crowd.
Due to O’Malley’s close proximity to Precinct Five, cops filled the neighborhood pub on any given night of the week, but March Madness brought them out in droves. Some wore obvious costumes in the hope of eluding Rudy’s wrath, and those dressed in plainclothes had probably gotten off shift or were about to head in.
Zoey fumbled her way to the edge of the dance floor, her eyes locked on the far back corner of the room. With a little bit of luck and this massive crowd, she’d survive her one and a half hours without a Knox sighting.
Ten feet from her destination, Scott Reed paused his conversation with his friend and ran his gaze up her body. His smirk shifted from cocky Neanderthal to lecherous pervert, making her long for a hot, soapy shower.
“And this night just keeps on giving,” Zoey muttered, and steered right, praying her heels cooperated.
Focused on her new destination past the pool tables, Zoey didn’t see the brick wall that stepped out in front of her. She collided hard, her teeth rattling from impact, and braced for a harsh ass-landing.
Firm arms banded around her waist and quickly tugged her into a familiar scent of spice and pine.
Brushing her nose against soft cotton fabric, Zoey inhaled, and failed to withhold a sigh.
“Did you just sniff me?” A deep, humor-laced voice vibrated her yummy-scented wall.
Not a wall. A chest. A hard, Knox-like chest.
Zoey forced her eyes up and grimaced as they collided with Knox Steele’s twin dark pools. “No. Maybe. I mean…absolutely not.”
Knox’s eyes crinkled as if he tried—and failed—to withhold a smirk. “You’re not sure if you smelled me?”
“I didn’t. I tried to—”
“Knock me down?”
On instinct, her gaze traveled to his mouth. Curled up a little higher on the left, his lips had starred in more Knox-inspired fantasies than she could count. If they possessed the power they did in her dreams, they needed to come with a warning label. An ice-cold shower wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
Zoey wished for a super speedy hour and a half. “I didn’t sniff you or try to knock you down. I was making—”
“An escape.” His attention shot over her shoulder and latched on to Reed.
Of course he noticed. Not much got past him. On the rare occasions when she’d let Grace drag her to a high school party, it was usually Knox who sniffed out their location like a human hunting dog.
Scott stopped in his tracks, second-guessing his approach now that she stood in Knox’s arms.
Literally.
Thickly muscled with a sprinkle of dark hair, Knox’s arms held her flush against him despite the fact she’d long since found her equilibrium. Their continued closeness emphasized the juxtaposition between his rock-hard planes and her soft round swells.
“Do I need to take that bastard’s head off his shoulders?” Knox drilled a menacing glare across the room.
“You can’t dismember someone for being a horn dog.”
His attention snapped back to her, voice dropping to a deadly growl. “What the fuck did he do?”
Crap. She hadn’t realized she’d said that aloud.
Already having a top-notch internal protector alarm thanks to her brother, Zoey intervened quickly. “Didn’t abide by the basic principal of I will not stare at another woman’s rear end while I’m on a date. It’s enough to avoid him, not turn him into the Headless Horseman.”
Knox’s gaze drifted to Scott and back, his mouth pinched in a tight line. A few tense seconds later, he slowly dropped his hands. Zoey felt the loss immediately…but not for long.
Unlike with Scott’s attention, Knox’s slow perusal of her body conjured an army of butterflies and not to mention, goose bumps. She opened her mouth to explain the atypical leather outfit, but was abruptly cut off by the two solid arms lifting her off the ground from behind.
“Is that a piece of wood shoved into your pants or you happy to see me?” a low, baritone voice teased with familiarity.
“Liam! Seriously, I haven’t changed so much in a week that I like being airborne.”
“Oh, come on now, blondie. If you’re going to dress as Buff, you best be prepared to play the part.” Knox’s younger brother returned her to the ground and flashed her his signature crooked smirk. She couldn’t help but laugh.
With a birthday a month apart from her own, he’d always been the Steele—other than Grace—she’d been closest to. Like the rest of his brothers, he’d left home after school and joined the military. But unlike Knox, he’d immediately returned after his discharge, and dove right back into DC life as if he’d never been away.
She scratched his scruffy jaw. “You have dirt growing here or something.”
Liam ran his hand over his days’ old stubble. “Just trying it out. I hear women dig a guy who looks rough around the edges.”
“We also like guys who look as though they’ve bathed recently,” Zoey teased.
Liam clutched his chest, feigning being wounded. “Harsh, blondie. Real harsh. And to think I came over here to save you from Sir Growls A Lot.”
Th
eir attention turned to an unamused Knox. He glanced between Zoey and Liam, and momentarily to his brother’s arm still wrapped around her waist.
Grace chose that moment to bound up, handing Zoey a tall glass filled to the brim with a golden, slushy mixture. “You almost got a Bloody Grace instead of a Rudy Special. He accidentally served me before that pixie-hair brunette and I thought she was going to stab me in the eye with her umbrella straw.”
“Maiming by cocktail. I guess stranger things have happened.” Momentarily forgetting her friend’s love of strong drinks, Zoey took a long sip.
Her eyes teared as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. “What’s in this thing? Gasoline?”
Grace shrugged and sipped her own concoction. “I lost count after Rudy grabbed the fourth bottle. It’s not half bad after you get past the first sip.”
“You mean if you survive the first sip.”
Grace slid her attention toward Knox. She let out a small squeal and wrapped him into a tight hug. “It’s my favorite cousin!”
Knox chuckled. “I’d be flattered if you didn’t call every single one of my asshole brothers your favorite.”
Grace pulled away, laughing. “Well, yeah. But with you I mean it.”
“Standing right here, cuz,” Liam protested with a smirk on his face.
Grace waved him off. “I can’t believe that all the Steele men are in one place. I’m sad that I’ll be leaving once we catch this Cupid Killer. I’d like to have a first row seat to you lot knocking DC on its ass again.”
“You could always stick around…”
Grace laughed until she sucked in a sharp, wheezing breath. “I love your sense of humor, Liam. Let’s switch the conversation from fantasy to reality and take a moment to talk about how incredibly sexy Zoey looks in those leather pants.” She not so subtly elbowed Zoey in the side. “And look at that, Zo. He’s practically the Angel to your Buffy. It’s like kismet.”
Zoey choked on her drink mid-swallow. When had she taken another sip?
“Hate to break it to you, but I’m as far from an angel as they come.” Knox’s folded arms stretched his black shirt across his chest.
Zoey’s mouth dried despite her cocktail.
He was right. He looked nothing like an angel—at least not one that wore white robes and a golden halo. A fallen angel wouldn’t be so much of a stretch. Killer body—check. Talented, callus-roughened hands—she didn’t know firsthand, but probably check. And a wicked gleam of the eye that promised untold pleasure to anyone brave enough to fall into their depths—there was no way that wasn’t a check too.
Seriously, her libido could go back to sleep anytime now.
“Good information to have, but I mean the Angel.” Grace ignored the fingers Zoey dug into her arm. “Sex on legs, mysterious, broody vampire who’d love nothing more than to sink his fangs—among other body parts—into Buffy.”
Knox’s gaze shifted toward Zoey.
Mortified over the mental picture Grace invoked, she couldn’t meet it. His reaction could fall into two categories—humor or disgust. Zoey didn’t want to witness either.
Wondering if her police connections could help her avoid a murder charge, she searched for the nearest distraction. Liam. “You said Ryder and Roman are here too?”
“Hell yeah they are. Wait till they get a look at you. Just beware of Ro, because unlike me threatening Knox with a muzzle, we had to buy one for Ro on the way over.”
“What did you do?”
“Wasn’t me this time.” Liam’s blue eyes danced with amusement as he patted Knox hard on the back. “That honor goes entirely to this guy right here.”
Zoey lost her battle not to look at Knox. “And what did you do?”
“I’m breathing.”
She blinked, not expecting that response.
Knox wasn’t known for his slew of inappropriate jokes and horrendously bad timing. He and Roman had always been the more serious brothers. But those two simple words, combined with his impossible-to-read expression, put him smack on top of the brooding tier.
Liam, oblivious to his older brother’s tension, chuckled. “Or it could be that he finally showed. Or that he didn’t stay away. Hell, it could be that he’s leaving to go play with celebrities instead of joining Stee—ah, I mean, Iron Bars. Who the hell knows what gets Ro’s boxers in a twist these days.”
“You’re leaving?” The question slipped from Zoey’s mouth.
Knox’s face remained blank slate. “New opportunities and all.”
“Guess we should count ourselves blessed that you made us a pit stop then, huh?”
Her words surprised more than herself. Grace’s brown eyes widened, and Liam hid a chuckle behind a cough. Knox, on the other hand, didn’t look the least bit amused. The mouth that had been curled upward earlier pressed into a tight line.
An apology hovered on her lips, but she swallowed it.
Probably for the first time in ever, she stood firmly in pro-Roman territory when it came to Knox’s reappearance.
A lot had happened in two years. She wasn’t so self-important to think that she deserved daily phone calls, or even bi-monthly check-ins. But a card would’ve been nice to wake up to following surgery. Or heck, even an email.
Knox had been Cade’s best friend, but he’d been her sexy, libido-waking friend too. At least that’s what she’d thought.
But friends didn’t play disappearing acts that lasted two years. They didn’t return and jump back into things as if they’d never been away. And they didn’t dream about what the other one looked like naked.
That last one may have been her, but it didn’t matter.
It was one more thing friends weren’t supposed to do.
Chapter
Five
Grace and Knox followed Zoey and Liam at a slower pace. Zoey knew because her Knox-dar tingled the back of her neck, and didn’t waver once as Liam navigated her through the thick O’Malley’s crowd and toward the pub’s back room.
Four antique pool tables stood sentry, all different in style and varying in age. Ryder and Roman stood by their regular table, a late nineteenth-century Brunswick, and argued back and forth while shooting an occasional glance at the balls’ layout.
Life had been boring until the Steele boys started trickling back home.
“Neither one of you is right, so go ahead and hug it out.” Zoey injected herself into their argument, grinning. “The rational choice is the blue solid into the left corner pocket. If you try anything else, you may as well put your feet up and let the other team go again.”
Ryder dropped a massive arm around her shoulder, and tugged her into a side hug that lifted her feet. “Finally! A voice of reason! We’re switching things up and I call dibs on Zo.”
She laughed. “What is it with you Steeles and making me airborne?”
“If you didn’t want us picking you off the ground, then you should’ve grown a few more inches.” The former Marine slowly returned her to the ground. “Besides, it’s in our genes to sweep gorgeous women off their feet.”
She rolled her eyes and turned to Roman, who was standing noticeably apart from the group.
“You’re not going to pick me up like an airplane too, are you?” Zoey joked.
Roman’s lips faintly twitched. “No airplane.”
His eyes screamed do not approach, but Zoey didn’t listen because Liam was right. The Steeles and Wrights were basically one big—and obnoxiously loud—family.
Pretending his scowl didn’t exist, she wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “You should probably know that I’m not letting go until you hug me back. It’s okay. I’ve got all night. But just so you know, I have a freakishly small bladder. Things could get pretty awkward in about an hour.”
Just when she thought she’d have to make good on her threat, his arms settled awkwardly around her and squeezed. “Hey, sweet pea.”
Grace leaned against the wall, a smirk on her face. “If I was a lesser woman
, I’d be greatly offended right now. Zoey gets three hugs. More because a Roman hug is like triple the points. You know what? Forget it. I am offended.”
“That’s what you get for coming back here without drinks.” Ryder snitched her cocktail and took a sip. He grimaced and quickly handed it back. “Never mind. You probably would’ve brought us whatever fruity crap you have right there.”
Everyone laughed. Even Roman chuckled, and a sneak over Zoey’s shoulder saw the sight of it had gained Knox’s attention too.
“Shit-on-a-stick.” Grace pushed off the wall, her head swiveling around the room like a penned animal. “Don’t hate me, Zo, but I have to make myself scarce. I’ll come back when the coast is clear.”
“What do you mean—” Zoey hadn’t gotten out the rest of her sentence before Grace disappeared into the crowd and the reason for her departure stepped beside Knox.
Cade’s blue eyes tracked her friend’s exit across the room with hawk-like precision. “Where’s Gracie going?”
“Bathroom. When a woman’s gotta go, we gotta go.” Zoey compounded the lie with another sip of her drink. This time, it slid down a heck of a lot easier.
Cade assessed her in a critical once-over, going through a quick metamorphosis of facial expressions before landing on one that looked like painful realization. “Are you supposed to be a dominatrix or something?”
Liam burst out laughing, earning him a glower from Cade.
Zoey forgot all about her shirt and propped a hand on her hip. “I’ll tell you what I’m dressed as if you tell me what you did to my best friend.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His jaw muscle flexed, his only tell on record, and only when it involved Grace.
“You’re seriously going to stand there and lie to me? We both know that Grace isn’t exactly an exercise enthusiast and yet she hustled away as if she were running bases at Nationals Park.”
“Thought you said she had to use the ladies’ room.”