Chapter 7
Knox held the door open for Allie and followed her into the hallway. They walked to the elevator in comfortable silence, but by the time the elevator arrived, she felt he was unusually quiet. "Is something wrong?"
"Hm?"
She couldn't stifle her laugh. "Sorry. I apparently pulled you out of some deep thinking. Care to share?" The elevator doors closed, and she pressed the button for the lobby.
Knox was staring at her. And continuing to stare. She would've been worried except for the lopsided grin on his face.
"Stop messing with me. What is it?"
His eyes softened. "I was just thinking about how good you are at reading people."
"Okay?"
"So . . . can you read me?"
"Oh." Now she was the one with the goofy grin. "Unless you try to lie to me, you won't need to worry about me analyzing your nonverbal cues."
He looked like he wanted to say something, but the elevator doors opened. Four women with pickleball rackets stood waiting for the elevator. Knox gave her a smile she couldn't decipher. Apparently, whatever he was going to say could wait.
When they exited the front doors of The Mandeville, the humid heat made her wish she was wearing shorts.
It wouldn't be inappropriate as far as work was concerned.
Knox and Jason were wearing shorts today.
But revealing her scar was absolutely out of the question.
She didn't want questions. Or the staring.
And she honestly didn't want Knox looking at it. He knew it was there, of course. But she didn't want him to have to look at it. Besides the fact that it looked so disgusting, they didn't need another reminder of that night out in the open.
Okay, that's it then—pants and long dresses for the rest of my life. If she moved somewhere cold, no one would question her wardrobe choices. Trouble was, she lived in Houston, Texas. And she was presently working on a Caribbean island. Not ideal climates for swearing off shorts.
When they got to the SUV, Knox turned on the engine, and she cranked up the AC. He was giving her a funny look again.
"Okay, Knox. What's up?"
"I want you to read me. Study my . . . my—"
"Nonverbal cues?"
"Yes. That. Look at my eyes, my fingers, my ears, whatever."
He was being sweet and a little serious. She wasn't sure where this was going. "Your ears aren't going to tell me much. What is it I'm looking for?"
He slid his hand into hers. "I want you to use all your scary-good skills to convince yourself that I'm being completely honest with you."
She grabbed his forearm with her other hand—out of shock, or to shake some sense into him, she didn't know which. "What? Knox, I never . . . is this about my comment about lying in the elevator? I was just kidding with you. I've never suspected you were dishonest about anything. Ever."
He placed his hand on top of hers with a new softness in his face. "Then trust me when I say that what happened three months ago doesn't affect the way I feel about you."
Oh. Why did she feel like someone hit her in the chest? Compassion, hope, and a trace of vulnerability played on his face. Why couldn't she tell him exactly what he wanted to hear? She wanted to. She really wanted to. But . . .
"I trust you, Knox. I do. But that doesn't make this guilt go away. I believe that you believe things haven't changed. But that doesn't make it true. My poor judgement caused an altercation that forced me to kill a man."
He stroked his thumb across her hand. "Allie, we've been over this. I'm glad a life—any person's life—is precious to you. But you can't keep blaming yourself for what he made you do. If you hadn't shot him, you'd be dead."
"I know. But it's still something I have to live with." She sighed and shook her head. "It's not only that, though. At some point, you're going to realize I nearly got you killed that night. I also nearly got you fired."
He started to protest, but she held up a let-me-finish-talking hand. "I know Jason got things smoothed over. I don't know why he did. But I know Eric was livid at me. He made that clear while I was in the hospital."
"Eric isn't the WhiteRock director anymore."
"Doesn't matter. He was then. He could've fired you back then. And he would have fired us both if Jason hadn't intervened."
He pursed his lips. Breathed through his nose.
Yeah, he knew about that. She thought he knew.
He'd just been too nice to bring it up. "I know you want to believe the past doesn't matter and just move on.
But I'm afraid that's only kicking the can down the road.
Eventually, it's going to bother you. You're going to wonder if you can trust me. "
She slipped her hand out of his. "Let me work on proving myself, okay? Give me time to prove myself."
He put both hands on the steering wheel, but he looked like he wanted to punch it. He glared at her. "Why don't you believe me? You don't have to prove anything. That doesn't make sense." He was yelling now. "What do I have to do to make you understand? That night wasn't your fault!"
He leaned back, closed his eyes, and drew in a long breath.
She'd hurt him. Angered him, yes, but that anger stemmed from the hurt she'd inflicted. And that was the last thing she'd wanted to do. A new kind of sorrow burned inside her. She didn't know what to do with the hurricane of emotions in her chest.
He propped his left elbow on his door and covered his face with his hand. A few beats later, his eyes met hers. And she saw more of the pain she'd caused.
"Knox, I . . . I don't know what else to say." Wow, wasn't that the truth. The emotional squirrels running circles in her brain were more confusing than anything else. Guilt was there, yes, but did she feel more guilt about that tragic night or about how she was hurting Knox today?
Her head throbbed.
"I don't know what to say either." His voice was clipped. He shifted into reverse with more force than necessary. "We need to get to Henrik's."
She nodded. And faced her window for the entire silent drive to Henrik's. So he wouldn't see her tears.
Knox parked between Island Coffee and Pelican Rentals.
He hadn't looked at Allie since The Mandeville parking lot.
Why couldn't she let it go? Of course it was good that she wasn't flippant about what happened.
A man lost his life. An investigation was derailed.
She was shot. But wasn't this extreme—wallowing in the guilt—the wrong reaction?
It was definitely driving him out of his mind.
Frustration clawed at his insides. After the conversation with Henrik, he needed to go for a run.
He locked the SUV and they walked up the sidewalk toward the front of Pelican Rentals. Even the ocean view across the street and the aroma from Island Coffee wafting on the sea breeze weren't altering his mood. Yeah, he really needed to go for a run.
He held open the door for her and followed her inside. He was thankful they'd have to keep their conversation professional for the next few minutes. That he could do. He could compartmentalize.
"Oh, you're back." Henrik looked around the empty shop as if the scuba gear might be listening. "Is everything okay? Was the footage helpful?"
Knox nodded. "Yes, Henrik. But—"
The front door opened. A customer wearing a familiar gold chain walked in.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Allie pivot toward a kayak on display, studying it intently, head down. Good job, he didn't see your face.
Knox wasn't so lucky. Gold Chain walked up to Henrik and glanced at Knox.
Henrik smiled at Gold Chain. "I'll be with you in a minute, sir."
"Actually . . . " Knox took a step back, toward Allie. "I don't think my wife has decided which kayak she wants." He looked at Gold Chain. "You go ahead. We're still looking around."
Gold Chain nodded, uninterested in Allie and Knox. Good.
Knox walked over to Allie, trying to sound as casual as possible. "What do you think, babe? How about the blue one?"
Gold Chain and Henrik walked to the counter.
Knox could hear their voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.
The tone of their voices made it sound like a mundane conversation.
Maybe Gold Chain was an actual customer wanting to rent something.
He definitely didn't sound like he was threatening Henrik.
And he didn't seem bothered by the fact that he and Allie were shopping a few yards away.
Huh. Wonder what he wants. This might tell us something.
Allie shifted her back to the counter. She was doing a great job looking interested in the kayaks on display.
"I can't decide," she said. "Why don't you get us some protein bars over there?
" She pointed to a mind-boggling array of protein bars—near the front counter. "Get plenty for our hike tomorrow."
"Yeah, sure." He admired her quick thinking and ambled over to the wall of protein bars. Picking up one that claimed something about a 'cherry flavor explosion', he pretended to read the nutrition label while he listened to Gold Chain's conversation with Henrik.
Henrik was writing something down. "Okay, I can deliver them tomorrow morning. Just write the address—"
"No, I'll pick them up. I have a trailer. What time in the morning?"
"I'll have them gassed up before nine."
Gold Chain pulled a wallet from his back pocket. His linen shirt was untucked, but it was hard to miss the holster underneath, at the small of his back. "Nine is fine. What's the total?"
"Credit card?"
"No. Cash."
Henrik's mouth quirked up. "Good. I hate those credit card fees. I can shave a little off the total if it's cash." He punched some numbers into a calculator and told Gold Chain the amount.
Gold Chain pulled several one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and plopped them on the counter. Henrik handed him his change. "Here ya go. I'll have 'em cleaned up, gassed up, and ready for ya by nine."
"I'll be here at nine." He turned to leave.
"Have a nice day," Henrik called after him.