“Fucking hell, Ethan, he’s marked her. Get the gun!”
Chapter 11
Knox paced across Sunny’s kitchen floor like a tethered dog
. He was a ground zero, balls-to-the-wall kind of guy. Simon and Justus rushed to the airport, and Knox didn’t feel right about leaving Sunny alone. Part of him wanted to run into the action, but someone needed to keep an eye on the girl. She was in a panic, and people on the edge do crazy shit.
Still, it scratched his back the wrong way.
“You’re going to wear a ditch in my floor.”
Sunny breezed by him to make a cup of hot chocolate. It was the usual time when she enjoyed her cocoa. Knox noticed.
She reached for a mug on the top shelf of a white cabinet, wearing a short purple robe. Her thigh was wet where it peeked through the slit of fabric.
Yeah, Knox noticed that too.
“Let me get that,” he murmured, lifting the cup from the shelf.
“I’m going to make you something special, so have a seat. I know a secret recipe that involves a bottle of Kahlúa, which I just so happen to have,” she said, tapping a finger to her chin and looking around. Her eyes lit up and she opened a lower cabinet. “Maybe it’ll help those dark circles around your eyes.”
It sounded good. Knox couldn’t remember the last time someone made him cocoa. Probably never. He dragged his feet to an empty chair, ruffling a hand through tangles of hair as he watched her heat the milk on the stove.
Sunny stirred a long spoon in the blue mugs, setting them down on the table. She tucked her chin in her hand, watching the swirl of foam spin around. The worry on her face shouldn’t have bothered him, but it settled at the pit of his stomach like a hot coal.
“She’s fine. Just sit tight and wait for them to call.”
Her blond locks—colorful with highlights—cascaded over her face. Fingers ran deep into their waves and while he couldn’t hear it, he knew she was crying.
“We left her alone. I’m supposed to be her friend and I should have been there.” Her voice weakened. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”
She scooted her chair back and left the room. He listened to the sound of her sticky feet on the wood floor until the bedroom door slammed. Her guilt was ludicrous. What could she have possibly done except put herself in danger?
Knox quietly tasted the cocoa. Damn, she was right; it
was
delicious.
Knox sat on the pale green sofa and flipped out the light.
He listened to neighbors arguing, a leaky faucet in the bathroom, and the occasional creak as the apartment settled. He closed his eyes for what seemed like a second when they snapped open. His heart pounded, although it wasn’t clear what exactly woke him up.
A weak sound came from Sunny’s room. Knox vaulted from the sofa and cocked his head, straining his ears. There it was again—a whimper. She had a fire escape outside her window, an easy opportunity for any lowlife.
Motherfucker!
Knox saw red. He swung the door open and scanned the room, fists clenched and ready to swing.
The room was empty. The window was closed. A sting of embarrassment touched his ears from the impulsive reaction.
Light filtered through the window, illuminating a figure on the bed. Knox took a moment to admire her. By the fine curve of her hip, she was lying on her side. Sunny took another quick breath and coughed. Something was wrong.
Her face was mashed in the pillow, so he touched her shoulder. “Hey, wake up.” She rolled to her back and those puffy eyes flew open.
“You’re dreaming. Settle down.”
Knox backed up into a shadowy corner. No one needed to wake up to the likes of him.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” she said, wiping away tears. “I had a dream about Silver and the night she disappeared. Except in the dream, I saw everything that happened to her.” Her breath trembled, and voice softened. “Will you sleep in here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”
Knox was unable to speak. It wasn’t longing in her voice—it was fear. She wanted someone to keep her company, so he eyed the wooden chair by the window.
“I’m sorry about the couch situation. I was saving up for a new one, but my car broke down again. Transmission repairs aren’t cheap.” She scooted a curvy hip to the far end of the bed. “You can have that side.”
That side
. The side next to her. Twin beds didn’t offer much room, and Knox was the kind of guy who took up a whole lot of mattress. A tiny wave of terror rolled through him.
“I’m sorry about that night at the hotel; I’m obviously not your type.”
Well, that remark just peeved him. “What do you think my type is?”
Jesus, she didn’t have a clue.
That woman was in the dictionary next to those words.
“It’s not a proposition, Knox. I feel bad that I don’t have a guest room and you’re stuck on that sofa with the loose spring. If it makes you feel any better, we can sleep head to foot.”
That mental picture rolled around in his dirty mind with all kinds of wrong attached to it. When he didn’t move, she yanked the covers away and threw her feet to the floor.
“Hardheaded are we? Then
you
take the bed and
I’ll
sleep on the sofa. You look about as petrified as a fossil, and I didn’t even flirt with you.”
“Get back in the bed,” he ordered.
Without protest, she slipped those long, bashful legs beneath the sheets. When the short gown rose up, he averted his eyes like the gentleman he wasn’t.
A nervous creak sounded from beneath the bed when Knox sat down. Sunny chuckled, but kept her back to him. “It’s an old bed and sometimes the planks fall out. I got it on sale when I was going through my antique phase.”
If that was the case, she was about to be the proud owner of a bed of antique splinters.
The sheets cooled his legs, and he pulled the coverlet over his bare chest. Women like her weren’t attracted to him, they were
afraid
of him. That was a hard fact he lived with. Mothers corralling their children, women clutching their purses… People were always making assumptions that he was trouble.
And maybe they were right.
Lavender hung in the air, but it was her apricot conditioner that clouded his thoughts.
“Why don’t you like women?” she asked point-blank.
Before he could answer, Sunny continued.
“My dad was a drunk. He spent every night at the bar and when he got home, he used to yell at my mom and put her down.” Knox listened to the sound of her feet rubbing together as she took a shallow breath. “He was a miserable man, and I hated the fact my mom put up with it. He threw her clothes on the lawn more than once, but she
always
defended him. She blamed us for making him that way.”
“Did he…”
“Hit me? No. He never laid a hand on my mom, either. You don’t have to hit someone to abuse them, Knox. But he hit my brother once or twice. The night Kane left home, they were fighting, and my father said that he wasn’t his son. How can someone be so cruel?” There was a thoughtful silence. “Sometimes I still wake up with his voice in my head, and the things he said to me, the things he called me. No matter how old you get, you never let go of stuff like that. I don’t want to make the same mistakes my mother did, and that’s why I don’t get serious.”
Knox turned his neck and stared at the back of her head. That was a hell of a thing to reveal. He never met a woman with such intimate candor. Quid pro quo, he thought.
“My father hit me. A lot.”
“I never knew my mother; she took off when I was born. The only women in our house were the whores the old man brought home from the bar. To address your question, I like women. They’re a good time, that’s all.”
He expected an argument, waiting for her to throw him out of the room.
“Aren’t we a pair?” she sighed.
It was an offhand comment, but he liked the sound of it—the idea of him and Sunny as a pair. A pair of what, he didn’t know. They were on opposite ends of the spectrum as far as personality and lifestyle, yet they both sprang from the same, dark past.
“I’m not judging you, Knox. At least you don’t lie about it like some men do.” She reached over, wrapping her small fingers around his large hand.
With that touch, with those words, something inside of him ignited. Knox was a supernova on the verge of exploding into the dark void.
***
Sunny felt an unexplainable connection with Knox from the moment they met. It didn’t have to do with him sticking up for her—as impressive as it was—but there was something intangible. Now she understood why. He may have pretended the abuse didn’t mean anything, but deep down she knew it mattered. It always mattered.
Knox came across as an insensitive meathead, but deep down, he was a softy. He was the only man at the dinner table who cleaned the dishes and made her sit down. The broken doorknob was suddenly fixed, but no one confessed. Early that morning, Sunny found him kneeling on the bathroom floor trying to repair the leaky faucet. She yelled and shooed him out, but closed the door and smiled, staring at the tools she never used. Sunny spent her life avoiding men like Knox, and he turned out to be an impressive example of a man.
The alarm clock on the nightstand ticked like an impatient fingernail on a table.
She gripped her pillow when the bed shifted, listening as the sheets made a soft hiss. He was moving closer and the bed depressed, causing her to hold on tighter. When a strong arm locked around her waist, she held her breath in surprise.
Knox pulled her flush against him, and his chest warmed her back almost immediately. Once connected, he relaxed.
In those quiet minutes that passed, Sunny thought about how rarely she went to sleep in someone’s arms. He nestled his chin against the back of her neck, breathing in the soft smell of her hair. A strong heartbeat pounded between her shoulder blades, drowning out the sound of her own, which was racing.
God, her mind scrambled in the calmness of that room. Every time his breath skimmed over her shoulder, it filled her up with an insatiable need to be devoured by him.
Bravely, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand to her mouth, kissing the palm. His reaction was immediate, and Knox tensed. Sunny took it a step further, drawing a circle with her tongue in his hand. He tasted of salt.
“We shouldn’t do this.” His voice was raspy, filled with the same need.
Denial shouldn’t sound so sexy, but it did. Sunny was never put in a position where she was the one making all the moves.
Her fingers worked open the buttons of her gown, and laid his hand over her bare breast. He was putty in her hands and she was putty in his.
When he lightly pinched her tender nipple and caressed the soft skin that surrounded it, she moaned, arching her back. Knox had the physique of a warrior and the hands of a saint.