by April Hunt
“I don’t know what this thing with Zoey is, but I know it’s none of your business.” Roman’s words hit a little too close for Knox’s comfort. He turned to leave, not wanting to hear any more.
Roman followed. “Actually, it is my business. Who do you think’s going to mop up the mess when you leave her broken? Who always cleans up your messes? Who takes over when you drop the ball?”
Knox spun to face him. “What do you want, Ro? Me to leave? You want me to untie my boat and sail the hell away right now?”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Why the hell did you even bother coming back?”
“You’re pissed I didn’t come home. You’re pissed I did. You’re pissed I made plans to leave. Somehow, Ro, I think you just like being pissed. Because if you’re busy being ticked off at the world around you, you don’t have to look in the fucking mirror.”
“I look in the mirror every damn day. And do you know what I see?” Roman pushed his face within inches of Knox’s. “Someone who didn’t think you were capable of writing off his entire existence for two fucking years. So you’re right. I am pissed. At me. For being so stupid as to look up to my big brother.”
Knox knew it had taken a lot for Roman to admit what he just did. Though part of him wished he’d chosen to throw a punch instead, the other part of him knew this was good. For both of them.
“I wanted to come home. More than you know,” Knox admitted gravely.
“Yeah? Did someone tie you up? Keep you hostage in some cabin in the middle of nowhere?” Roman asked snidely.
“My final mission before discharge went sideways. I let my temper get the best of me. Made a bad call. And people got hurt because of it.”
Roman waited as if expecting more. “You’re not the first one to make a shit call, brother.”
“No, but it’s the first time it happened to me. My body may have gotten off that Boeing two years ago, but my head sure as hell didn’t.”
“You know what didn’t come back with me? My fucking leg. And yet I still managed to make good on my promises…so you can stow your head-shit up your ass.” Roman studied him as only a brother could. “What’s the real reason you stayed away? Because we both know it’s not as simple as a botched call.”
“You guys deserve to have someone watching your back who isn’t doubting every single decision that runs through his head. Isn’t that enough?”
Roman shook his head. “Not buying it. Because you would’ve told us that you needed time and there isn’t a single one of us who wouldn’t have understood.”
Knox fought to keep his face impassive, but Roman glared hard, practically digging through his head with the power of his stare alone. Creepy-ass Special Forces shit. A clock ticked in the background, the sound like a cannon in the otherwise quiet room.
Finally, Roman gave a noncommittal grunt. “You stayed away because you thought you were protecting us, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Knox turned, but Roman grabbed his arm, hauling him back.
“The hell you don’t.”
Knox snapped, years of frustration boiling through his veins. “You want the truth? Fine. Yes. I stayed away because everyone was dealing with their own shit, okay? It wasn’t right for me to add to it with my own issues.”
“I think that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said, and there’s been a lot of stupid shit that’s come out of your mouth in thirty-one years.”
“Not so ridiculous when you think about it. I got Ma’s emails, Ro. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was worried about your sorry ass.”
“Me?”
“Problems adjusting to life with your prosthesis? Hitting the bottle a little too hard? Your disappearing acts, and better yet, sudden reappearances looking as if you’d gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson? No way in hell was I about to add onto it with my shit, not if I just needed some time to get my head on right.”
“Two years’ time?” Roman asked, not denying anything he said. “You didn’t need more time. You needed a swift kick in the ass, and you didn’t come home because you knew I’d be more than happy to give it to you.”
“Since you’re an underground fighter?”
Roman’s dark eyes widened. “How the hell did you—”
“Because I know how your mind works. And I’m not going to tell you to stop because I know it’s probably helping you work through stuff, but I am going to remind you that if Ma ever finds out, whatever she does to you is going to be a million times more painful than anything you find in that ring.”
“It’s not so much a ring as it is a mystery-stained cement floor.”
Knox’s lips twitched. “Semantics.”
Roman grinned, the sight of it momentarily stunning Knox quiet. “Did we just have our own version of a heartfelt conversation?”
“Think so.” Knox rubbed his chest, feeling as if a weight had been lifted. “Let’s not do it again, okay? That was fucking painful. Thrown punches are definitely the way to go. Hell, it’s what I was expecting at the start of this.”
“Yeah?” Roman’s fist whipped out, the impact propelling Knox into a stack of glasses. “Better?”
“What the hell was that for?” Knox wiped a trail of blood off his bottom lip.
“Didn’t want you to walk away without your expectations being met. And for thinking that we’d be better off without you.”
“We good now?”
Roman’s mouth slid into a half smirk. “Good-ish. But I reserve the right to change my mind without notice because you’re still a jackass. And about the Zoey thing…hurt her, and a single thrown punch is going to be the least of your problems. And I can guaran-damn-tee that I won’t be the only one jumping in on the action.”
“I have no intentions of hurting Zoey,” Knox said truthfully.
“Good intentions doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen.”
This time, Roman’s statement didn’t drip with animosity. And he wasn’t wrong. Bad shit happened with the best of intentions.
There wasn’t a minefield in DC. No IEDs buried beneath Pennsylvania Avenue. But no active warfront didn’t mean there wouldn’t be casualties while he figured out what the hell he was doing with Zoey.
Knox just had to make sure that he’d be the only one.
Zoey tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. Short of sleeping on her head, she’d tried them all. Most of them at least twice. Eventually, she climbed from bed in a grumpy huff.
Her skin buzzed with the need for…something. And it wasn’t ice cream.
It was Knox.
She still couldn’t wrap her head around how brazen she’d been in the basement. But whenever she tried excusing her behavior, she realized she didn’t want to. She’d liked the woman who’d kissed him first, who’d flashed him a little wink before walking out the door.
That woman was let down that he’d stayed behind at Iron Bars while Liam took her home. It was also why she’d yet to fall asleep at near midnight.
Snuggles jumped off the bed. Mid-stretch, he lifted his rump in the air and yowled.
“You don’t need to get up too.”
He followed her toward the kitchen, amplifying his annoyance the closer she got to his treat drawer. He pushed his big body between her legs, tripping her. “Okay. Okay. I get the hint. If I’m getting a snack, so are you. Pushy furry thing, aren’t you?”
Zoey dolloped a small portion of wet food into his bowl. When he eyed the amount in kitty-disgust, she rolled her eyes. “Take it or leave it.”
He took it, devouring it in a few sloppy-sounding seconds.
That done, Zoey glanced around her apartment for something—anything—to do. Nothing would be on TV, and she wasn’t in the mood to read the thriller she had sitting on her coffee table. No thank you. Real life freaked her out enough.
Opting for a hot bath, she passed her sliding glass doors on the way to the bathroom, when the bottom latch caught her attentio
n. The little knob wasn’t fully engaged into the locked position. She turned it around and double-checked it, and every other door and window, for good measure.
At the small window above her sink, she glimpsed a wide-eyed face staring back at her. Her heart jumped into her throat as she teetered backward…and realized the other figure did the same.
Her freakin’ reflection.
“Zoey, zero. Paranoia, five thousand.” Her heart barely resumed its normal steady thump when an abrupt knock sent it into another sprint.
Only two people had the moxie to stop by this late at night. “I’ll let you in if you’re carrying a pu pu platter or combination fried rice. Otherwise, go away.”
“Sorry, angel. No fried rice. I could probably handle a hot dog from the convenience store around the corner if you give me five minutes.”
Zoey’s hand froze on the door before she pulled it open.
Wearing the same clothes as earlier, Knox leaned against her doorway. Dark stubble had overrun his jaw since she’d last seen him, but it was his slightly swollen bottom lip that caught her attention.
Her hand reflexively touched it. “What happened?”
“Had a discussion. It went pretty well.”
“Good discussions end with fisticuffs?”
“When they happen with my brothers.” He ran his hand down her arm and to her fingers.
She hadn’t realized she was still touching his mouth, but instead of letting her pull away, he held her hand loosely in his.
“Can I…?” He glanced into her apartment.
“Oh. Sorry. Yes. Come in.” She stepped to the side, half expecting him to change his mind. He not only came inside, but crowded her against the wall as he closed and locked the door behind him.
Nerves sent her slinking off to the open living room, and eventually, the kitchen. She grabbed a water and downed half of it, and when she turned, Knox stood in the entryway as if he’d always been a fixture in her place.
“Do you want a water? Or ice for your jaw?” she asked.
“I’m good.”
She tried summoning the Zoey from the Iron Bars basement but close quarters and Knox’s arrival evidently sent her packing. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of having Knox Steele in my apartment? At almost midnight.”
“Couldn’t sleep, and I was out driving and happened to see the light on. Thought I’d stop by.”
“And of all the condos, you knew which windows were mine? Is this some creepy Steele Ops tactic?”
He didn’t grin, his eyes serious. “I’m not part of Steele Ops. At least not technically.”
“Is that why you got that?” She gestured to his swollen lip.
“Not for the reason you’re probably thinking.” Something darkened his eyes before he muttered a curse and headed toward the door.
“Where are you going?” She followed him.
“I shouldn’t have come over.”
“Then why did you?” She caught his arm, and they both looked down to where their hands touched. “Unless you make a habit of visiting women’s apartments late at night, you must’ve had a reason to stop by.”
“The day didn’t end like I’d hoped.”
Her heart galloped in her chest. “And how did you hope it would end?”
“At the very least? With another kiss like we had at Iron Bars.”
“And at the most?” Damn. Was that her breathless voice?
Hello, Basement Zoey, you have returned.
For being a large man, Knox moved gracefully. Cupping her hips, he gently eased her back against the wall. “At the most? With you naked and beneath me…or on top. I’m not particular as to which as long as the naked part’s the same.”
“Oh.” Zoey quieted a large gulp.
“Why do you look like you’re about to bolt, angel?”
“Because that’s a lot of most.” And a hell of a lot more than she expected. “I don’t know what to say. Your mixed signals are a little confusing. What’s changed since your speech about not messing with women like me who’d rather binge-watch episodes of Buffy than go to nightclubs and shake their bonbons? I mean, that, I get. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve heard it, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”
The muscle at Knox’s temple jumped wildly as he clenched his teeth. “You have no idea how much it pisses me off when you say shit like that.”
“Say what? The truth?”
“You’re twisting what I said that night out of context.”
“I don’t think I am. I’m not a Tracy type, Knox. I don’t don my underwear and call it my clubbing outfit. Heck, I don’t go clubbing—or to bars. Or go much of anywhere that has hordes of drunken, horny people. And let’s not forget that I’m a Wright—the fragile sister of your best friend, the one who needs protecting from anything more challenging than turning oxygen into carbon dioxide.” Once her mouth got moving, it couldn’t stop.
“You’re far from fragile.”
Zoey snorted. “Tell that to my brother.”
“Can I talk now?” Knox’s gaze remained firmly locked on hers.
Forcing a jagged lump back down her throat, Zoey nodded.
Something akin to challenge darkened his eyes. “You’re a hell of a lot better than I deserve—and that’s what I meant before. I fuck things up, sweetheart. My unit. My brothers. You name it, and I’ll find a way to screw it all to hell.”
“And you’re not staying,” Zoey added. “You’re still planning on doing that bodyguard thing.”
“And I’m not staying,” he repeated, his face passive. “You deserve a lot more than what I can give you. So you see, it has everything to do with me and not a damn thing to do with you not being a Tracy type. And while we’re on that subject, Tracys are a dime a dozen and not the least bit sexy to me. Do you know what is?”
Zoey couldn’t speak, so she shook her head.
“A woman who doesn’t give a damn about fashion dos or don’ts. She wears cotton shorts for comfort, not realizing how delicious they make her legs look. She wears cartoon-themed T-shirts from her youth, not caring how they perfectly cup her sweet breasts.” Knox’s gaze slowly slid down her body, coaxing a long trail of goose bumps over her too hot skin. “And at nearly midnight, wearing a tank top and duck shorts, she hasn’t the slightest clue how badly I’ve wanted to strip them off of her since she first opened the door.”
Zoey could barely breathe, trying to digest his words and populate his meaning.
The smart thing to do would be thank him for explaining and see him out the door. But the thrill she’d felt at Iron Bars came roaring back. For the first time in her life, she’d made a decision based on what she wanted, not on what she should do. That kind of freedom was addictive.
Neither of them had much time for anything serious.
With her working the Cupid Killer case and him helping out with Steele Ops, neither of them would have a lot of free time. And his impending exit put an expiration date on whatever it was they were about to discuss.
“What’s going on inside that gorgeous head of yours?” As if realizing where her thoughts migrated, Knox dropped his voice to a husky rumble.
“Truthfully? I don’t know. My brain’s still processing the fact that you think my duck shorts are sexy.”
Knox trailed the backs of his fingers up her sleeveless arm and over her shoulder until he cupped the side of her neck. His thumb, slightly callused, caressed her face in gentle strokes. “There’s a hell of a lot more about you that’s sexy, angel.”
“If you’ve wanted to toss away my shorts since you walked through the door, why were you about to leave a few minutes ago?”
Knox’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and for the first time in forever, he looked nervous as his gaze dropped to her mouth and back. “Because you deserve a guy who’s going to be there for you for the long haul. Someone a quick phone call and a skip away.”
“I’m a twenty-seven-year-old who’s barely had a chance to truly live my life. I’m not
ready to start shopping at bridal boutiques. What if what you’re offering is exactly what I’m looking for?” Zoey slipped her hand into his hair slowly and guided his mouth down to hers. “I’m tired of letting other people have all the experiences, Knox. I want this. I want you. Neither of us have the time—or are in the place—to start anything complicated. I’m working. You’re leaving. But there’s no reason why two consenting adults can’t partake in a mutually agreed upon sexual arrangement.”
His lips lifted in a sexy half-crooked smirk. “Mutually agreed upon sexual arrangement?”
“Is your vision of me so clouded that you believe I’m incapable of partaking in a good ole-fashioned booty call? Because I’ll have you know, Mr. Sex and Sin, I can be sexually carefree.”
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “There’s isn’t a doubt in my mind, angel. But are you sure there isn’t one in yours?”
“You’re worried that I don’t mean what I say?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time—and I’m not talking about you. People, as a whole, tend to promise things without knowing if they can follow through.”
Something flickered in Knox’s eyes when he mentioned promises and she bit her lip to keep from asking if that’s why he’d stayed away from DC for so long.
If she and Knox crossed this line, could she keep her word? Could she keep things casual?
She’d always cared about him. A lot. Watching him leave would be painful. Period. But watching him walk away after knowing what life could be like if he stayed?
That could be excruciating.
Zoey prayed she looked more hopeful than she felt. “As long as we both treat it like a carefree adventure, the distraction from the daily grind will probably do our bodies good.”
“I’m only willing to be so carefree,” Knox admitted, his voice gruff as he nibbled the length of her neck. “I grew up with three brothers and was forced to share my entire life. I won’t do it anymore. If we do this, we do it just the two of us.”