Chapter Five
Knox
“It's him,” she said. “I'm positive it's him.”
She handed the phone back to me and wiped the fresh tears from her eyes. She took a moment to compose herself, and when she looked up at me again, I saw that steely determination in her eyes. That defiant little lift to her chin that told me she was angry – and most importantly, willing to do what we had to do to get the kid back.
“How do we get him back?” she asked me.
“They want to meet with us. Tonight,” I said. “They've promised no harm will come to the boy as long as we cooperate.”
“Think that's a good idea, boss?” Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow. “You know you can't trust those sons-a-bitches.”
Grace screamed and slammed her own delicate little fist down on the bar – the soft thumping sound it made was almost cute. But that was about the last thing I was going to say in that moment – she looked ready to kill somebody and I had no desire to throw gas on that bonfire. At least, not until I could harness and direct that rage in a more useful direction.
“What choice do you have?” Grace seethed. “Would you seriously let them kill a little boy –”
Holding a hand up, I stopped her. “No, we wouldn't,” I said. “Even if he wasn't my nephew, that's not how we roll. Kids and women are innocents and are off the board completely. The Dawgs crossed a serious line, and they're going to pay for that. But in the meantime, we have no choice but to play along. We'll do whatever we need to do to make sure the kid is safe. And then we'll show them how we really roll.”
Dean shook his head, “It's a trap, man,” he said. “You know it is.”
“Fuck yes, it's a trap,” I said. “Do I look like a fucking fool?”
“Yet you're going to walk in there, just give yourself over to them?” Dean scoffed.
Grace glared at Dean, and if looks could have killed, I had no doubt he'd have been dead on the spot. This woman had some serious fight in her – which was not what I'd expected when I'd first laid eyes on her. But now, in the middle of this crisis, I saw a woman who'd throw down to protect a child she cared about. A woman who would get down into the shit and make somebody bleed to save that kid.
If I didn't find her nearly perfect before, hell, that sealed the deal. A fucking princess with a big bite to her. I liked it. Maybe once we got Liam back, safe and sound, I could make her mine. At least for a night. Just looking at her and seeing that fire in her eyes was giving me a raging hard-on.
I stood up from the barstool and stretched, yawning wide and tossed my beer bottle in the trash can.
“Where are you going?” Grace asked, on my heels.
“We have twelve hours before we're going to meet with them,” I said with a shrug. “Figured I'd get some sleep. I want to make sure I'm sharp when this all goes down.”
Her eyes were wide and her jaw was practically on the ground. “Sleep? At a time like this? Are you kidding me right now?”
“He needs to be on top of his game, blondie,” Dean said with a wicked smile. “Let the man get some rest. Don't worry though, I'll keep you company in the meantime.”
She stepped closer to me, almost latching on to my arm, a look of distaste blended with nervousness in her eyes.
“No thanks,” she said quickly.
“Ahh, you're into Knox, I see,” he said, tipping me a wink. “I get it. It's cool.”
“I'm not –” she stammered, but her cheeks flushed.
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, blondie,” he cackled.
Grace followed me down the hallway until we got to a spare room I sometimes crashed in when I didn't want to drive all the way home. Just like at home, the blackout curtains made the room darker than outer space – just like I liked it. I flipped on a light as we stepped inside and I closed the door behind us.
The room was pretty gross, I had to admit. I knew that for someone like Grace, who was probably used to four-star hotels, clean sheets, and light floral air fresheners, that made it a doubly horrible experience.
The sheets and bedding were old, ragged, and threadbare in quite a few spots. The mattress was old as hell and sagged in the middle, and the room was permanently scented with cigarettes and stale beer. But the bed was the only surface to sit on, so she sat down gingerly, her back rigid, almost like she wasn't sure she should. She tried to control the distaste on her face, but couldn't quite keep it all out of her eyes. I sat down on the other side of the bed and looked at her. She was in way over her head here. This was not the usual circle she ran in and this whole situation with Liam – I doubt she ever conceived of the idea that anything like this could, or would, ever happen to her in her lifetime.
For us, this was pretty standard fare. We were used to having to fight. It was just how it was in this kind of life. But when I looked at Grace and saw the fear that lurked in the back of her eyes, coloring everything else she might have felt, my heart actually went out to her.
She didn't sign up for this. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and now she was caught up in all of our bullshit and drama. I felt bad for her.
“How do you think it'll go tonight?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Will they hand him over easily?”
“Probably not,” I said, pulling my boots off and letting them fall to the wooden floor with a clatter. “They'll have some demands and want me to agree to some shit first.”
“And you'll do that? For Liam?” She looked over at me with those big, blue eyes, hope within them, but also fear.
“I'll get Liam back, don't you worry,” I said.
“But how?”
“Does it matter?” I asked, taking my jacket off and laying it beside me on the floor.
“Yes, because I need to know what to expect,” she said. “I – I want to know how to prepare myself.”
“Why? You're not going with us,” I laughed.
“Like hell I'm not,” she said.
She wheeled around on me so quickly, I actually flinched. Grace turned turning to face me directly. Her chin was high, her upturned nose in the air. She had this look of utter defiance on her face.
“Like hell you are,” I said. “A pretty little thing like you would be eaten alive. And I'm going to have enough on my plate to deal with already. The last thing I need is to worry about you.”
“I can handle myself just fine, thank you,” she said. “I'm doing okay with you guys, aren't I?”
“We aren't the Dawgs, for one. We're actually on your side,” I laughed, finding her more amusing than anything else. “And for two, I'd like to see you hang out there at the bar without me. I'd love to see what you do when you don't have that buffer zone between you and my boys. Go ahead, try it.”
She crossed her arms in front of her, as if folding into herself. The look on her face was petulant, defiant, angry – and entirely adorable.
“I'm going,” she said. “You wouldn't let me call the cops. You've held me captive here, and now you're telling me I can't be there to get Liam back? That's not how this is going to work, Knox. Not as long as I'm alive and breathing. Liam is my responsibility and I'm going with you to get him back.”
Shaking my head, I pull at my shirt, lifting it up over my head. I wasn't going to argue with her. Not because I was going to let her go – but because I could make damn sure she wouldn't be in the line of fire by keeping her there at the clubhouse. Safe. Having her anywhere near the danger zone was the absolute last thing I needed. She'd be just another target for the Dawgs to go after. Unlike us, they didn't give a shit if women or children were casualties.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding almost offended.
“Taking off my shirt,” I said. “I'm getting some rest. I'd suggest you do the same.”
“Can't you sleep in your clothes?”
“Nah, I prefer not to,” I said, tossing my shirt on the ground. “It's uncomfortable. I like to be free and unrestricted when I sleep.”
I looked over at her and caught her staring. She was looking at my chest, almost scrutinizing the tattoos that covered it. But she seemed to be doing more than just checking out the tattoos – I couldn't help but notice that her eyes were also drawn to my abs. To entice her to keep checking me out, I started unbuttoning my pants.
“Are you really –” she started to ask, the color in her cheeks flaring, but she choked on her words.
“Yep,” I said, answering her question before she had a chance to finish her sentence. “Like I said, I like to be free and unencumbered when I sleep.”
I unzipped my pants and slid them off, leaving me just my boxers. Once undressed, I swung my legs around and laid in the bed, my head propped up on the pillows. She was trying to be sly about it, but Grace was definitely checking me out – all while giving her very best effort to avoid making it obvious. A sideways glance, a longing stare at my abs as she licked her lips, and then she’d turn away.
But she couldn't hide her glances entirely any more than she could hide that bright red color in her cheeks.
“You're free to get comfortable,” I said. “I don't mind.”
“I am comfortable,” she said, her voice as stiff as her body.
Her pencil skirt seemed to be clinging tightly to her legs and she kept fidgeting with it. And then I looked at the jacket she was still wearing. It was warm in the room. And I could see a little bit of moisture was building up on her forehead. I could tell she was far from comfortable.
“At least take the jacket off,” I said. “You look like you're going to die of heat stroke over there.”
She sighed dramatically, but eventually obliged, removing her business suit jacket and carefully placing it over the back of a chair next to the bed. She was left her in the light pink sleeveless blouse she'd worn underneath.
It was something of an improvement, I supposed – but I could have done with seeing a bit more of her skin.
“Are you really going to sleep?” she asked again, turning her body so she was on the bed beside me.
“Not if you have other plans,” I teased.
Her cheeks turned bright red, but she gave me a long, level look. And I noticed that she didn't say no.
“I just – I just can't stop thinking about him,” she said.
Her eyes started to fill with tears again. If I didn't do something fast, the waterworks would get going, and God knew, I hated seeing women cry. Especially beautiful women like Grace. And besides, I kind of wanted to explore that look she gave me – something that I wasn't going to be able to do unless I got her to stop crying.
So, I did the only thing I could think of to stop it. Not giving her a chance to resist, I took her face in my hands and drew her to me.
With my lips lightly brushing against hers, I whispered, “I can distract you for a little bit at least.”
I pressed my lips to hers, lightly at first, and when she didn't pull back, I devoured her mouth with mine. Pushing my tongue into her mouth made her gasp, but she didn't push me away. Her hands were on my chest now, almost like she wanted to stop me – but they were balled up in fists and resting comfortably, against me instead.
Her tongue was delicate against mine. While I ravaged her mouth, she moved with me, her tongue meeting mine in a sensual dance. I moved my hand to the back of her head, grabbing onto her and holding her there as I deepened the kiss further. She slowly started to meet the pace I was setting and her own hunger started to come through. And damn, she was a good kisser. Softer and gentler than the kind of woman I was used to, but still sexy as hell. I rolled over, pushing her down onto the bed and then I climbed on top of her. She pulled back, staring up at me with those wide eyes. I expected her to tell me to stop, but she didn't.
Instead, she surprised me and said, “Do you have – umm – protection?”
Reaching over, I pulled a condom out of the bedside drawer. Holding it up, I smiled and asked, “Will this do?”