Chapter 27
MAREN
“Fuck my life,” Knox grumbles. His face shifts from earnestness to focus on a single blink.
“I gotta go.” He stands with me in his arms, as if I weigh nothing, and then spins to flip me down onto the bed.
He places his hands on either side of my head and brushes a kiss over my lips that leaves me reeling just as much as his words did.
“Prez!”
This time, the word sounds even more demanding.
“Coming, Ridge!” he shouts. He looks to the door, then turns back to me. “We’re not done with this conversation. Think about what I said, please. I don’t know what the solution is, yet, but I know that leaving isn’t the answer. Lock the door behind me and only open it when you hear my voice.”
My pulse stumbles a little at his words, and I replay them as he walks to the door and then slams it behind him.
Quickly, I jump off the bed and slide the bolt, but it does little to make me feel safe. A man of Rainbow’s size could probably knock it out of the frame, given half a chance.
But as I press my back against it and look around the room, Knox’s words come back to me piece by piece.
He thinks I’m strong, which is a joke because, right now, I feel nothing but weak. Maybe he’s right about the sense of loss bonding us together. I’ve lost my grandparents, and my mother abandoned me. He lost his brother and we’ve never spoken about that big hurdle between the two of us.
What if it becomes an insurmountable thing if we do?
And he asked me to stick around so he can give me a reason to stay.
That doesn’t sound temporary anymore. It feels like building something special between us. And, God, how I’ve yearned for just one person to pick me. Choose me. Love me every single day.
But do I want that with him, given everything else it entails?
My heart and body scream yes. But my brain? It’s telling me it’s the worst decision I could make.
I want to believe I’m safe, but I don’t know how he can change the cumulative decades of belief within the walls of this club that, somehow, the sins of the fathers become the daughters’.
But it also soothes a desperate and raw part of me that he wants me.
Because you’ve crawled beneath my skin, and I want to keep you there.
I know this makes no sense. I know you’re scared.
But if you take everything else away. Responsibilities and last names and club affiliations.
If we’re just Knox and Maren and nothing else matters, we still have a chance to be happy together.
And I’m beginning to think we could too.
I try to breathe deeply to ease the rapid pounding of my heart. One breath after another. The room carries the lingering scent of his cologne. It’s oddly comforting, but my skin still prickles.
Heavy booted footsteps thud toward the door, then walk on by, and I hear a door slam.
I press my palms to my thighs and bend forward to ease the spinning feeling whooshing about in my head.
You’re safe, Maren.
Except, when I said I hadn’t felt safe in years, I meant it.
Safety doesn’t come from locked doors—that, I’m sure of.
It comes from being aware of what is happening around you and taking the appropriate action. And at this point, I know nothing.
Another series of shouts carry through the walls, and my stomach twists in response.
What if those men are here? Shouldn’t I have the chance to talk with them? To understand why they keep coming at me for information. I wonder if I could talk to them and convince them that I don’t have what they are looking for.
I know Knox is the least helpless man I have ever met. And he has his club around him. But what if one of them gets their hand on a gun or a knife or throws a punch that sends Knox to the concrete.
He’s the only reason I’m safe here. And if something happens to him?
Then, you aren’t.
The words feel like lead weight in my stomach.
My keys are on the desk where Knox put them when he came in. My phone is in my pocket.
Ten seconds pass. Then, another ten.
I unlock the deadbolt and pull the door open slightly.
This is how the heroines get captured, abused, and killed.
But I’m not doing this recklessly or on a whim.
I’m a sitting duck in that room if anything happens to Knox.
And right now, with the club distracted, I have a chance to get out of this situation.
The corridor outside his room is dim, lit by yellow ceiling lights.
Thankfully, there is no one in the hallway.
And I can see a green exit sign at the end of the hallway, about three or four doors down.
The door is wide open, and I hope the reason is to let some fresh air in, not because it’s a commonly used thoroughfare.
When I reach it, there is a metal staircase down the exterior of the building. There is a dock with a number of boats, and beyond that, a large patio area with chairs and an outdoor bar and a large fire pit.
Bikers boisterously mill about.
But the staircase leads down to an unpopulated area. It seems to have tool sheds and storage.
I take the steps down, but as I get closer, I hear the faint echo of a familiar voice.
Knox.
There’s a thud, followed by a loud grunt of pain.
My curiosity wins, and I take another couple of steps so I can peer down to a large open space that sits beneath the clubhouse. It’s shielded from the roadside with a large brick wall.
The floor is concrete and the overhead lights are harsh.
And a circle of eight men.
There’s a ninth man on his knees on the ground. It’s Pax, the customer who got angry about the oil he bought.
Knox is standing over him, and for a moment, the past and present collide. When I was younger, I thought he was big and frightening. Now, I know he is.
But now, I also know so much more about him. About his protective instincts for those he cares about.
There’s blood on the ground. I can’t hear exactly what Knox is saying, but there is a terrifying realization that the man who was putting his heart on the line for me only moments ago, can change into this violent creature in a matter of seconds.
Yet, this version of Knox no longer scares me.
Knox stands in the center of the room and has never looked so powerful. The other men look at him with respect, the man on the floor, with fear.
His shoulders are squared, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. There’s no wildness to this version of him. He’s measured and controlled.
“Tell me who those men were, and why you told them how to find Jackal,” Knox demands.
They’re the first words to carry cleanly to me.
Pax spits blood, then tries to lift his head to Knox.
Whatever he manages to say isn’t enough for Knox, who raises his fist faster than I can follow. The crack of impact echoes through the space, and the man drops sideways onto the concrete.
Two of the men laugh, bumping shoulders while they look at the man in a heap.
They don’t flinch or look away when Knox grabs Pax by the front of his shirt, hauls him upright with frightening ease, and then hits him again before throwing him back to the floor.
I want to be appalled.
I should be.
I hate violence…and yet…
Knox is doing the things other people can’t or won’t do to keep others safe. I don’t know who he is protecting most. Me. Or Jackal. But I don’t think it matters.
Something strange twists low in my stomach. The first time I saw Knox hurt someone, fear had rifled through me. I was probably only nineteen when I cycled by the clubhouse and saw Knox beat a man in the lot.
But now, I feel something else entirely.
I hate that it feels a lot like pride.
I hate that it feels like safety, because I shouldn’t need his protection.
I love that he would do this…for me.
Knox looks up and his eyes meet mine. For a second, the entire world seems to pause.
North follows his line of sight, then leans to Knox and whispers something to him.
Knox tips his chin in my direction. There’s nothing optional about the gesture. I wonder what it means for me, that I’m a witness to this. Will images of Pax on the floor stick with me forever?
The thought flickers through my mind as I respond to his beckon.
North glances between us, then grins like he knows exactly what Knox intends to do. Every other set of eyes turns to face me as I descend the stairs. Eight hardened bikers staring at me from beneath the harsh lights.
I should be terrified.
Instead, I’m hideously turned on. I feel alive in my own skin, for once. Like I’m taking control of my destiny, for a change. And I feel safe, because Knox is close by.
Knox watches me expectantly, and for some reason, I don’t want to do anything to let him down. I want to be the woman who can withstand this.
The one who is willing to walk through fire to make him happy.
Pax groans as he regains consciousness. Vandal steps forward and kicks him beneath the jaw, sending him back to the concrete and unconsciousness.
Even the wanton act of violence can’t stop the need to jump Knox where he stands, blood be damned.
When Knox reaches for me, he doesn’t speak right away. His gaze moves over my face, searching for something. Then, the corner of his mouth lifts. “You couldn’t stay put, huh?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t want to be trapped in that room if anything happened to you.”
His hand closes around my wrist. “We’ll have conversations about you doing what I say, later, but I think it’s time I formally introduced you to my brotherhood.”
Knox pulls me gently but firmly into the circle of men, into his space, positioning me in front of him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His body presses against my back, solid and steady. One of his arms slips around me, his hand settling so his finger and thumb cup the underside of my breast.
The other hand comes up slowly, his fingers curling loosely around my neck, his thumb brushing along my jaw in a move so protective and possessive, I feel the same kind of intensity that fills me when an orgasm starts to build.
The men around us go completely still.
“Y’all know I don’t repeat myself,” Knox says finally.
“But this is Maren Caldwell, and she’s under my protection because she’s mine.
And before any of you decide you’ve got an opinion about that, I want to remind you of something.
” He pauses, and I feel the inhale of breath and the tightening of his arms around me.
“In all the years I have been president of this club, I’ve never made the wrong call. ”
The statement should be arrogant, and yet, somehow, I can believe it.
A couple of the men look at one another, but no one argues. I know these faces; I’ve grown up in a small town with them and their leather patches. But there’s a weird feeling of power in standing here. Of being claimed. Of someone wanting me in spite of the consequences.
“I hid out at Maren’s during the storm. I saw those two men attacking her, but they got away before I could chase them.
” He tilts my head where my bruise and grazes are still visible.
“I carried her to safety, and we knew it was too late for me to go anywhere else in the hurricane. More than that, I wanted to stay. There’s no endgame, no ulterior motive.
I’m not fucking her so I can break her heart.
You respect her the way you respect me. You do that, the rest of the men will follow. ”
“It’s a big ask, Prez,” Havoc says.
Knox’s erection grows against my back. Thank God he feels it too.
I don’t know how to process the way my body aches for this man’s touch, right now. My cheeks flame when I consider he might take me in front of them in some ritual.
Surely, sex between us should be something private too.
But does it matter?
The way my thighs rub against each other suggests it doesn’t.
“Soon,” Knox encourages in a whisper at my ear, before looking to Havoc. “This goes wrong, I’ll resign my colors.”
“No fucking way,” Vandal says, stepping forward.
“Must have a million-dollar pussy,” Ridge mutters.
Knox moves me to one side, nudging me behind him. “Come and fucking say that to my face.”
Ridge raises his hands in surrender. “Come on, Prez. You fucking hate this family. Have hated Maren for as long as I can remember. You’re gonna have to give us all time to get comfortable with the about-turn. We supposed to salute Caldwell, now, or some shit?”
North moves to the other side of me. “Ridge has got a point, Prez. Spell it out.”
“Nothing changes with Caldwell. We live by our rules. We do what we’ve always done.” Knox moves me back in front of him, grips my neck, then tilts it so he can kiss and then bite it. “You like your dad, sweetheart?”
Sunny grins at the endearment.
There’s a buzz in my head. Surely, what Knox is doing to me, turning me on like this, should be private. And worse, why do I not care?
So, I give his men the benefit of an honest answer. “No. I despise him.”