Page 115 of Knox Unleashed
That makes everything feel worse. It’s not an accident. It’s not a mistake or a case of wrong place, wrong time.
A second man appears. He has a gun pointed straight at me, and I don’t recognize him. These aren’t the same men who came for me before.
While I could take the man at his word, that they don’t want to hurt me, the gun tells me they have every intention of hurting me, and I find myself very much wanting to stay alive.
So, for now, I stop fighting.
“Listen carefully,” the man with the weapon says. “You’ve been spending time with people you shouldn’t. Getting involved in things you shouldn’t. Go back to your life, Maren. Forget about the biker. Consider this your warning.”
The biker.
There is something about the way the man is speaking that bothers me.
The storeroom door bursts open, hitting the wall with a slap.
“Take your fucking hands off her.”
And I’ve never been more relieved to see Knox in my whole life.
Relief hits me so fast, my knees buckle.
The man behind me releases me, but only to shift his grip, before he practically throws me at Knox.
Momentum, shitty footing, shaking legs, and fear all collide, and I fall into Knox.
Knox stumbles as he tries to catch me. His arms come around me, but my momentum is too fast, he barely has time to plant his feet, and so we both fall to the floor.
He twists so that I don’t hit the concrete at full force. But the impact still knocks the breath out of me. I can’t imagine how it must have hurt Knox as we go down in a tangle of limbs.
“Motherfucker,” he curses as the sound of boots hitting concrete disappears. Knox shifts, trying to push to his feet, trying to go after them. But he realizes the same thing I have.
They’re gone.
“Are you hurt?” he demands as he climbs to his feet.
“I—no,” I manage. I’m winded. Probably going to be bruised tomorrow. Shaken like a martini. But I’m not in pain. “I’m okay.”
The muscle at the side of Knox’s jaw twitches as he helps me to my feet. “Did they touch you?”
“Yes,” I snap back, matching his tone. “They grabbed me, Knox. What do you think?—”
“I told you to not come out alone. Iwarnedyou. I told you not to come to this store because something in my gut told me it was a bad fucking idea. I told you to get to me. Instead, you walked yourself into a back room where no one can see you, no one can hear you and?—”
“I needed milk, Knox.” The absurdity almost chokes me. “I can’t live in a world where I can’t pop out for milk.”
“And I can’t live in a goddamn world without you in it, so I fucking win, Maren.”
And then, I see it. Beneath the shouting, there is fear in his eyes, and there’s a gentleness as he brushes dust off my ass.
Then, he steps away from me and runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, Maren. I was worried this wasn’t a good idea, so I asked Kip to call me when you left so I could ride out here and join you to make sure you were okay. And then, I walk into the store, and I see my men putting our groceries into baskets in the produce department, and, meanwhile, you’re nowhere to be seen. Then, when I find you, there’s a man with his hands on you, and one has a gun pointed straight at you.”
Tears sting my eyes as I finally acknowledge the fear and adrenaline and the flight or fight I fought with. “And I’m clearly handling it better than you…are.”
The final word comes out on a sob.
“Jesus,” he says, tugging me to him, holding me tight, kissing the top of my head.
“I’m sorry…Vandal got hurt so badly,” I manage to say. Because I’m sure half his fear for me stems from that.
