Page 38 of Knox Unleashed
His lip curls. “She doesn’t know who you really are.”
I huff at that. “Pretty sure she’s got a real good idea.”
“She’s grown up around decent men. Her grandfather. Me. Not men like you who are…”
“Say it,” I goad. “Outlaws? Criminals? Big scary bikers.”
His eyes flash. “I was thinking more like parasites.”
At least he was original.
His hand drops to his belt again. “You stay away from her.”
“Or what?”
Caldwell steps closer this time. The temptation to reach for his shirt is high. I’d be off this bike in a heartbeat, my hand around his throat. “Or I’ll make your life in this town very difficult. Road checks. Inspections. Every little thing your club does. I’ll be there waiting.”
“Sounds like a full-time job. You do what you gotta do, Sheriff, but we all know where the real power of this town lies, and it’s not you and your part-time deputy. And you don’t scare me. Never have.”
“Pretty sure your brother was scared in the end, as he lay on that floor, bleeding out.”
My fist is out and wrapped in his shirt before I can stop myself. I might even have his skin. Because his knees buckle as he tries to grip my wrist.
“Knox,” Maren shouts, splashing and kicking water as she runs barefoot in our direction. It’s not a yell of anger; it’s a shout of warning.
Shit.
The cameras.
I shove him away from me, and for a second, I think he might take a swing at me, but he doesn’t.
He stands there, soaked in the rain like I am, and stares me down.
I tip my chin toward Maren, still headed for us, and I’m grateful she can’t hear what I say next. “You’ve got a better chance of controlling a hurricane than you do your own daughter. Watch how you sleep, Caldwell.”
And with that, I roll the throttle, the bike roaring to life beneath me, and manage to find a path around the truck without looking back.
14
MAREN
I’ve lived nearly thirty years in the tsunami of sounds belonging to my father, trying to interpret them for any hint as to what his mood might be.
Thankfully, I dressed a few minutes after Knox had left. I needed to get out of the stormproof apartment and get some air. I felt insulated in there last night. Like the decisions we made couldn’t possibly bleed out into a world that wouldn’t understand why we did what we did.
All that was left of Knox was the faint scent of him on the pillow that I’d held on to for a second too long after he left. I’ve never much considered the importance of aftercare after any kind of sexual activity, beyond the idea that holding someone is a nice thing to do once the heat of sex has passed.
But I felt adrift when Knox left.
Bereft, even.
The pillow gave me a small amount of comfort.
Then, I got dressed and checked the cameras to see how bad any flooding was, or whether I should wait, only to see my father and Knox arguing, and I ran. Ran down the stairs and throughthe water that had spilled over the boathouse dock by a couple of inches as I carried my sneakers in my hand.
There was no real thought about what I would do once I got to the two of them, except maybe I wanted to bear witness to whatever my father would do or say.
And I didn’t know what the two of them would do or say to me.
