Page 79 of Knox Unleashed
“Fuck my life,” Knox grumbles. His face shifts from earnestness to focus on a single blink. “I gotta go.” He stands with me in his arms, as if I weigh nothing, and then spins to flip me down onto the bed. He places his hands on either side of my head and brushes a kiss over my lips that leaves me reeling just as much as his words did.
“Prez!”
This time, the word sounds even more demanding.
“Coming, Ridge!” he shouts. He looks to the door, then turns back to me. “We’re not done with this conversation. Think about what I said, please. I don’t know what the solution is, yet, but I know that leaving isn’t the answer. Lock the door behind me and only open it when you hear my voice.”
My pulse stumbles a little at his words, and I replay them as he walks to the door and then slams it behind him.
Quickly, I jump off the bed and slide the bolt, but it does little to make me feel safe. A man of Rainbow’s size could probably knock it out of the frame, given half a chance.
But as I press my back against it and look around the room, Knox’s words come back to me piece by piece.
He thinks I’m strong, which is a joke because, right now, I feel nothing but weak. Maybe he’s right about the sense of loss bonding us together. I’ve lost my grandparents, and my mother abandoned me. He lost his brother and we’ve never spoken about that big hurdle between the two of us.
What if it becomes an insurmountable thing if we do?
And he asked me to stick around so he can give me a reason to stay.
That doesn’t sound temporary anymore. It feels like building something special between us. And, God, how I’ve yearned for just one person to pick me. Choose me. Love me every single day.
But do I want that with him, given everything else it entails?
My heart and body scream yes. But my brain? It’s telling me it’s the worst decision I could make.
I want to believe I’m safe, but I don’t know how he can change the cumulative decades of belief within the walls of this club that, somehow, the sins of the fathers become the daughters’.
But it also soothes a desperate and raw part of me that he wants me.
Because you’ve crawled beneath my skin, and I want to keep you there. I know this makes no sense. I know you’re scared. But if you take everything else away. Responsibilities and last names and club affiliations. If we’re just Knox and Marenand nothing else matters, we still have a chance to be happy together.
And I’m beginning to think we could too.
I try to breathe deeply to ease the rapid pounding of my heart. One breath after another. The room carries the lingering scent of his cologne. It’s oddly comforting, but my skin still prickles.
Heavy booted footsteps thud toward the door, then walk on by, and I hear a door slam.
I press my palms to my thighs and bend forward to ease the spinning feeling whooshing about in my head.
You’re safe, Maren.
Except, when I said I hadn’t felt safe in years, I meant it.
Safety doesn’t come from locked doors—that, I’m sure of.
It comes from being aware of what is happening around you and taking the appropriate action. And at this point, I know nothing.
Another series of shouts carry through the walls, and my stomach twists in response.
What if those men are here? Shouldn’t I have the chance to talk with them? To understand why they keep coming at me for information. I wonder if I could talk to them and convince them that I don’t have what they are looking for.
I know Knox is the least helpless man I have ever met. And he has his club around him. But what if one of them gets their hand on a gun or a knife or throws a punch that sends Knox to the concrete.
He’s the only reason I’m safe here. And if something happens to him?
Then, you aren’t.
The words feel like lead weight in my stomach.
