Chapter 43
KNOX
“Maren.”
The word comes out on a choke. Every part of me has been fraying at the edges since I turned the bend of the cove and saw the bait store on fire. It got better when I noticed the remnants of Maren’s things scattered on the parking lot, telling me she’d gotten out.
But almost as soon as I’d felt relief, I’d pulled my bike to the open door, looked inside, and saw Caldwell using all his brute force on the woman I love.
A woman half his size. His own child. Her feet kicking, her fingernails grabbing at any part of Caldwell she can reach as her hair flies wild around her face.
She looks fierce. Like a warrior.
There’s something unhinged about Caldwell’s posture, and the shadows of the flames flickering on his skin give him a terrifying appearance.
I rush to get off the bike, but I’m too late. Maren crumples. In slow motion, her head falls back, her mouth has gone slack, and her legs have buckled beneath her.
She’s managed to stay alive, to hold herself together, until I arrived.
I don’t think. I move. Straight into the flame-drenched bait shop where smoke claws down my lungs. My brothers are following me, but I was out of the clubhouse gates before half of them had time to get on their bikes.
Out of pure instinct, I lean into my grappling experience as I drop my center of gravity and drive forward, shoulder to his midsection.
I wrap both arms behind his knees as I hit him square in the ribs.
Lifting and turning him as I move, I manage to dump him hard on his back.
The air punches out of him in a grunt as we both slam to the concrete.
His body takes the brunt of the impact as mine slams down on top of his.
A deafening crack snaps through the store, and the beam that holds the roof up at the rear of the store breaks in two and collapses.
Caldwell wildly bucks beneath me, and I adapt, shifting with him to ensure my forearm remains pressed against his throat to pin him and control him. My old grappling skills serve me well.
But Maren. She’s still unmoving on the ground.
I clamber off Caldwell and dive over to Maren, protecting her from all the burning ashes that float into the air in a dance that’s in complete contrast to the horror of the flames.
“Sweetheart. Maren,” I say, tapping her cheek to wake her up.
I’m just about to slide my hand beneath her legs, to lift her up and carry her out, when something slams into the side of my head and knocks me over.
Caldwell.
I release Maren, and the next time he comes at me, I’m ready. I catch his wrist mid-swing and step into him. Old instincts take over. Control the arm. Turn the body. Drop him.
Caldwell slams face first into the floor.
He snarls, trying to scramble to his feet, but he’s too slow. I snake my arm around his neck to choke him out.
“You think…you can take her…from me?” There’s something otherworldly about the way he says it. Like he’s possessed.
He flails, bucking his body again, shaking himself loose, knocking me away as he climbs to standing.
I find my stance and release him just long enough to drive my fist into his jaw. Once, then twice. The shock of it travels up my arm as I process the crack of bone and the give of flesh.
“She’s not yours. She never was,” I say.
I duck his first punch; the second makes contact with my cheek, but I barely feel it.
Caldwell grabs his gun and points it toward me, but I reach out and slam it away. The velocity of the hit sends the gun flying into the flames. The bullets cook in the heat. The first one exploding with a raw chaotic force that has me diving to cover Maren’s body again.
But Caldwell reaches for the back of my shirt, pulling me off her as the other bullets explode.
The collar of my T-shirt chokes me, and I grab my hands to the neck, trying to tear it to ease the pressure.
My feet scramble on the concrete, but I manage to find enough stability to stand, and elbow Caldwell hard in the gut.
Hard enough to make him release his hold.
Fire licks the ceiling above us. The middle beam could fall, at any moment. I glance to Maren, to see if she’s awake, and relief fills me when I see her push herself up, one hand braced on a crate, the other to her throat. There are soot and tears on her face.
And something in me gives at the sight of her.
“You should have left her the hell alone,” I say. This time, I punch him so hard, I swear I break his face and my knuckles. He staggers backwards, hitting the desk, and slumps down.
I hear another crack in the ceiling, and this time, I don’t waste any time. I run for Maren and drag her to her feet before catching her up into my arms.
“He’s lost…his mind,” Maren manages to say between her tears.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
I turn toward the door. The path I came in is already consumed with flames, and the air is getting thinner. It’s harder to breathe. The fumes of everything that is burning is overwhelming.
So, I run. There’s nothing calculated about it. I try to angle my body as best I can, taking the worst of the heat on my back. And we’re just through the door when the middle beam collapses.
I keep running away from the store until the air cools. Then, I fall to my knees, the gravel unforgiving. Once down, I place Maren gently to the ground as we both cough and splutter.
“Are you…okay, sweetheart?” I say, brushing her hair back off her face and taking a minute to inspect her properly.
She nods. Her eyes are streaming and glassy, and she keeps looking over my shoulder to the burning building as she sucks in air.
“My father. He said…he killed my mother, and…he should have killed me with her.”
The sobs come hard and fast, and I hold her tight as other bikes arrive in the lot.
“The window for me going back in there and getting him out is tight.” The words eat at a part of me. The part that wants the asshole to burn to death in there.
But for Maren, I’d do it. Because I don’t want her to ever have to bear the guilt of being there when her father died or her holding me responsible for not doing more to save the man.
Her breath stutters, and for a second, I think she might ask me to go. But then, she shakes her head. “He made his choice when he killed my mother. Leave him.”
I nod and pull her to my chest even tighter. “God, I thought I’d lost you. When I saw all the smoke...”
“Anyone else in there, Prez?” Havoc asks.
“We can trust them,” I say to Maren, and she nods. “Her father. But no one is to bring him out,” I say.
“No shit,” North says, looking at the building as it burns.
Sunny shields his eyes. “Anyone call the cops?”
Ridge shoulder checks him. “Think about that, for a second…you’ll get there.”
“What?” Sunny says.
“Who’s her father?” Lock asks.
“Oh,” Sunny says. Then, “Ohhh. Right. Cops are already in there.”
“I’ll call the fire department,” Havoc says as he rolls his eyes.
I can’t help the twitch of a smile that breeches the corner of my mouth. “I said we could trust them. Didn’t say they were smart.”
“There are two hoses on the side of the building,” Maren says. “If there’s any way to help save the building before the fire service gets here…”
“On it,” North says. “Let’s go, Reaper.”
Her hand comes up to my cheek, and I lower my mouth to hers. I hate the taste of salt from her tears. “Fuck, Maren,” I say, holding her tight. “I almost lost you.”
She huffs a weak breath. “You ran into a…burning building for me.”
“For you? I’d run into worse.”
Her lips part as unguarded emotions flicker across her face. “I love you. When I thought it…it was over for me, I closed my eyes and thought of you. You’ve given me a glimpse of…a life I never thought I could…have.”
“I love you too. And don’t worry about any of this. We’ll rebuild. Bring the bait shop into the twentieth century or keep its old-fashioned charm. Even rebuild your apartment, if you want, but you won’t need it.”
“I won’t?” Maren asks.
I shake my head. “No, because you’re still moving in with me.”
“I am?” But she smiles and I know damn well she’s going to.
“Yeah. And we’re gonna be happy. Because I’ll choose you every single day. Because I’ll love your artwork hanging around my house and the smell of paint when I get home. Because you in my bed and in my life makes my life better.”
“Okay. I guess moving in will be easy. I won’t have much stuff left after this,” she says, and tugs at the back of my head until our lips meet.
“Who knew the prez could be romantic?” Havoc asks.
“Lock, you should try being romantic to FBI chick,” Sunny says. “Bet it’d get you laid.”
“No,” Ridge says. “He’s like a cat dropping a dead mouse on the mat as a gesture of love. He’s delivering her a busted Alvarez organization. Chicks really dig that shit as foreplay.”
“Fuck you all,” Lock replies.
And even Maren joins in the laughter, though I can see she’s already starting to process that she lost everything.
“Wait,” she says. “I threw my grandmother’s photo album and a canvas onto the ground so they wouldn’t get destroyed. Over there.” She points to a spot by the staircase. “Don’t let them get wet when the fire department comes.”
“I see them,” Havoc says, and he jogs over to get them.
I adjust the two of us, so my back is against the fence of the property and settle Maren on my lap. “Of course, you saved a canvas.”
She wiggles against me. “It’s the one of you and me when we were…outside on your property.”
Just as she explains, Havoc arrives with the album and canvas.
“See,” she says. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yeah. We should hang it in the bedroom.” I place my lips near her here. “It’s appropriate that we have a painting of us fucking in the place where we fuck.”
Despite everything, she chuckles softly like I hoped. Maren glances up at the building. “You sure you don’t mind me moving in with you? Dealing with all of this is going to be expensive and—”
I kiss her. “I don’t. And the first thing we’re gonna do is go get you some new art supplies.”
She looks down at her track pants. “And clothes might not be a bad idea.”
I smile at that, knowing I’m going to get a lifetime of spoiling this one. “Whatever you need, sweetheart.”