Page 5 of Knox Unleashed
Of course, it’s Knox.
Fort Knox—because he can keep secrets.
Noxious—because some of the things he deals in are poison.
And even though I know who it is, I find myself checking my reflection in the rearview mirror because I’ve found faking confidence is sometimes as effective as actually feeling it.
My dark auburn hair, which I color from packets at the pharmacy every four weeks, has just been trimmed. My pale blue eyes look a little too wide in shock, but there’s a pretty pink blush to my cheeks, which is helpful since I rarely wear any makeup beyond a flick of mascara because I look like I have no eyelashes if I don’t.
Can’t do shit about the freckles that seem to cover the bridge of my nose and the tops of my cheeks all year round. And I wish I had a hint more color to my lips and a prettier outfit than this plain white T-shirt.
The gold earrings are, perhaps, the fanciest thing about me. But I’m determined to own it.
He pulls off his half helmet and marches towards me with a look on his face that says he might kill me. His hair is flattened, his jaw is shadowed, and his eyes are assessing me in a way that makes me open the door and step out of the vehicle. There is no way I’m going to let him blame me for our near collision.
I mean, he already has a long list of other things he blames me for.
His strong arms flex as he strides, veins visible, and there is grease on his knuckles like he’s been working on something mechanical. He’s wearing jeans that have no business fitting him so well, a black T-shirt, and the leather cut that declares him president of the Iron Outlaws.
He’s a walking contradiction of anger and competence as he yells, “What the hell, Maren? You nearly knocked me off my fucking bike.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You almost crashed into my truck.”
“You didn’t look,” Knox spits.
I huff at that, squeezing my hands so he can’t see how badly they’re shaking. “Of course, I looked. But it’s near a bend. A bend that’s supposed to be taken at twenty, not a hundred and twenty. Perhaps if you slowed down where you’re supposed to instead of flying around on that death trap, I’d have had more time to see you, and we’d all be a lot safer on the road.”
“Was doing thirty,” he says, but there’s a lack of conviction in his voice.
“Thirty, my ass.” I point up to the camera on the side of the building. “You want to step back inside my shop and watch the video? We can check if I looked and see how fast you were going.”
His mouth twitches in an almost smile, but then he forces his face back into a scowl. “What are you going to do? Run to Daddy and tell him to come arrest me?”
I roll my eyes at that. “We don’t have that kind of relationship.”
Knox glances over the store parking lot. “Yeah, right. He’s always here in your lot.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Have you been keeping track of me?”
He huffs a cheap laugh at that. “Get over yourself, princess. Makes sense to know where the cops hang out.”
On my twenty-first birthday, no one except Leo remembered. I didn’t expect anyone else to, so I wasn’t disappointed. That evening, I decided I was going to head to Annie’s bar and treat myself to dinner and my first legal drink. I ordered everything I felt like. Two appetizers I only intended to eat a little bit of. A burger with both fries and onions rings. I’d just taken the first bite of my burger, feeling proud of myself for taking the time to mark my birthday, even if no one else did, when Knox and a bunch of older bikers walked in.
When one of them started oinking at me, Knox laughed. I have no idea if it was meant to be a reference to my dinner or the fact I was a cop’s daughter.
He’d leaned over, placing his lips near my ear. “You need to get that to go and get the fuck out of here. It’s not cop friendly while we’re here.”
I’m not sure where I found the courage to look up at him and say, “Good thing I’m not a cop, then,” before taking a second bite of my burger.
We’ve circled each other like this for years. He hates me because of who I am; I hate him because I’m sick of being blamed for who my father is.
Knox doesn’t know this, but I went to the funeral. I mean, I was fifteen and stood out of sight at the cemetery because I knew I wouldn’t be welcomed. Knox stood stoically as they lowered his brother’s coffin. And I felt the roar of what felt like a thousand motorcycles as his club and hundreds of other bikers who travelled in from out of town revved their engines when the service was over.
From then on, there has always been animosity between my father, who keeps tight-fisted control over this community, and Knox, whose very presence makes waves. But occasionally he’llcome to the bait shop and somehow bring out the worst in me, or I in him.
“You were reversing blind onto the road,” he says. “You’re gonna get T-boned by an airboat trailer. Don’t reverse from a minor road onto a major.”
I look at the narrow rural road. “Your definition of ‘major’ and mine are obviously very different. There isn’t a major road around here for thirty miles.”
