All Chained Up Read online

  She looked at Knox, studying the hard set to his features and realizing that he had lived in a place where the normal rules of society didn’t apply. When he’d come to her rescue in the HSU, he had been primitive. An animal uncaged.

  He had lived in a place void of civilization. Maybe, in his mind, he still lived there. That’s what set him apart. He had an edge to him even out here. He always would.

  They were still staring at each other when he calmly added, “A man has to defend what’s his.”

  Had he seen her as his then? Even in that prison? It was crazy. He certainly didn’t view her like that now. He might be here, but it was just because he felt sorry for the way things went down between them at Roscoe’s and wanted to make amends.

  She looked back at the TV, just in time to watch as a full-­scale zombie herd started attacking everyone.

  “Wow,” he announced at the end of the episode. “That was pretty intense.”

  “Good, right? Want to watch the next one?”

  He nodded, and she settled back down on the couch, not minding anymore that their shoulders touched. It actually felt . . . companionable. For a fleeting moment she wondered if this could be the start of a friendship between them. Was that even possible? Could they be friends after everything?

  She focused on the TV screen. Of course, it didn’t escape her notice that they were starting the season where the group took refuge from the zombies in a prison. Apparently Knox noticed that plot point, too.

  “You’d never see me back in a prison,” he said after a while.

  “But it’s fortified. It has walls and fences. Makes sense that they can keep the zombies out of there,” she argued. “Otherwise they’re risking themselves out in the woods—­”

  “I wouldn’t care.” He shrugged and she let the matter drop. Obviously he would feel that way, but then she couldn’t help the next question from slipping out of her mouth.

  “Do you regret it?” She felt his stare on the side of her face, and forged on, fixing her gaze on the screen as she asked what had always been in the back of her mind, lurking, a shadow that wouldn’t fade. “What you did . . . do you regret it?’

  “Do you know what I did?’

  She shook her head.

  “I served out my sentence,” he responded, his tone revealing nothing.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “I’ll never do it again, if that’s what you’re asking me. I won’t go back there.”

  Not exactly an admission of regret, and she wanted to know. As frightened as she was to hear it, she wanted to know what he had done. She wanted to know his crime. She needed to know. As though it would complete her picture of what manner of man he truly was. As though hearing him admit it all would once and for all relegate him to a category marked DO NOT TOUCH.

  “What did you do?” she whispered.

  He said nothing for a while. The air crackled between them. The sounds of the television echoed within the space of her condo. She stared at the TV screen as though she wasn’t breathlessly waiting for his answer.

  The silence ate at her, gnawing at her composure until she had to turn and face him.

  His gaze was locked on her, his blue eyes bright and intense, his body wound tighter than a spring beside her. “You want to know what I did to get locked up?’

  She nodded, unblinking.

  “You don’t think I’m innocent? You don’t think it was a mistake?” He smirked, that corner of his mouth kicking up.

  She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Was it?”

  His lips curled now into a full-­fledged smile that set loose dark and wicked things inside her. “No.” He inched closer, his big shoulders angling so he faced her more fully on the couch. His fingers brushed her cheek, making her skin pucker to gooseflesh. “You know what I am.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m guilty.”

  “Guilty of what?”

  “Murder.”

  She gulped, fighting against the sudden lump in her throat. “Who?”

  His gaze flicked over her face, assessing before he answered. “One night my cousin went on a date. She was seventeen. Shy. She hadn’t been on many dates. Never had a boyfriend before. This boy took Katie to a party where he raped her.” Briar inhaled sharply but said nothing, afraid that a word from her would put an end to the recounting. “Everyone at the party . . . his friends . . . they all backed him up and said she wanted it. That she had been all over him. It was her word against theirs. My brother and I paid the boy a visit to get him to admit what he had done to her. We wanted the truth out of him. We wanted him to stop lying.” He nodded, his gaze faraway, as if he was there now. “We went there to get him to admit what happened. We wanted justice for Katie. Yeah, we wanted to hurt him. I don’t deny it, but we didn’t set out to do that. When he started mouthing off and calling her dirty words and saying things about her—­” He stopped hard, his throat working as he swallowed.

  “You killed him,” she finished.

  He nodded tightly. “I just saw red. I lost control. I was young. Stupid. I caused my family so much pain.” He inhaled deeply. “Katie killed herself during the trial. It was all too much. It broke her.” Something sharpened in his eyes, a brightness that spoke of suffering. His family wasn’t the only one he hurt. He hurt himself. He still hurt. That much was clear. “I did that. I broke her. And I dragged my brother to prison with me. He was only eighteen, just following my lead.” His voice grew tight. Bitter emotion twisted his features. “And he’s still in there. While I’m out here. How messed up is that?” He laughed roughly. “I’m not in prison anymore, but I’m still paying for my crime. I’ll pay every day for the rest of my life.”

  Before she could think, she was taking his face in both hands, running her thumbs over the planes of his cheeks. “No, it doesn’t have to be like that. You weren’t stupid, Knox. Just young, like you said. And hurt. You’re honorable. You’re a protector. There is good in you. The same goodness that saved me in the prison. Not just me, but Dr. Walker and Josiah, too. You could have just sat there and let them do—­”

  “No,” he bit out. “The minute I heard what those guys were going to do, I made sure I got injured in a fight and taken to the HSU.”

  She stared at him in shock, her stomach bottoming out. “You went in there on purpose?” It wasn’t some split-­second decision on his part to step in and save them?

  He nodded once.

  She moistened her lips. “I didn’t know . . .”

  He stared at her wordlessly, his gaze roaming her face.

  Without thinking, she leaned in and kissed him. Softly, tenderly. Holding his face in her hands, she opened her mouth against him, not realizing until that moment that her face was wet, coated in salty tears.

  His hands came up on either side of her head, holding her as she held him. His fingers brushed the tears from her cheeks and pulled her back so he could stare at her. “Why are you crying?”

  She gulped back a sob, not understanding it entirely. His story, the truth of what happened to him and his family . . . that he got himself into the HSU deliberately for her. All of it tore loose something inside her and left her raw and bleeding. The only thing she could think to do was kiss him. As though that would somehow patch her up.

  Instead of telling him that, she shook her head, sniffing back tears.

  “Don’t,” he whispered, pressing his mouth to her cheeks, kissing away her tears. And then she was crying over this from him. This tenderness from a man that thought he was something broken. “Sssh.” His mouth, moist with her tears, came back over her trembling lips.

  She whimpered and opened to him. He brought her onto his lap. She straddled him and they kissed like that. Forever and ever. One hand came up to tug at her hair band, snapping it free so that the heavy mass tumbled loose to curtain them.


  “God, I love your hair,” he muttered against her mouth, running his hands through it and holding it back to keep kissing her.

  She was breathless and panting when he suddenly broke off. “Briar, believe it or not, I didn’t come here to do this.”

  She backed away from him, fighting the urge to beg him to keep going. She had already bared herself to him in a way that left her exposed and vulnerable tonight. She wouldn’t do it again. She carefully chose her words. “Why did you come here, then?”

  He gazed at her, one hand buried in her hair, the other still holding her face as though she were some fragile piece of crystal. His thumb trailed down her tear-­moist cheek.

  As though his silence was answer enough, she nodded once and started to pull away from him. No more disregarding her dignity. She wasn’t chasing him.

  His hands tightened around her, hauling her back. “I don’t want to hurt you, Briar.” He spoke so fiercely that she knew he was saying that as much for himself as her. “I should do the right thing. I tried tonight at Roscoe’s. You know what I am. You shouldn’t even let me near you. I should let you go. Leave you alone.”

  “If that’s the right thing . . . why doesn’t it feel like it?” she asked, unsure whom she was posing the question for. Him? Or herself?

  He stared at her for a long moment before giving a single nod. “Okay.” Something shifted in that single word. The plank she had been tottering on finally tipped and she fell to the other side.

  Somehow he had just agreed to . . . what? Be with her? Date her? That word felt so small and weak compared to what she felt as he tucked her against his side and settled back on the couch, his strong arm wrapped fully around her.

  TWENTY-TWO

  BRIAR WOKE TO bright sunlight pouring in the blind slats and the smell of frying bacon. The bed she didn’t remember climbing into was warm and cozy, the space beside her empty, but she knew the bacon wasn’t frying itself.

  Knox was still here.

  A stupid smile broke out on her face, which she instantly tried reining in. She didn’t want to look too eager. Just because they’d spent a night together that involved talking and cuddling and watching TV on her couch like a ­couple—­and he didn’t disappear before morning—­did not mean they were in a committed relationship. If that’s even what she wanted from him. She snorted, internally laughing at herself. Was there really any doubt anymore?

  She stretched against her sheets and that stupid smile returned when she thought about the fact that he must have carried her to the bed. Her hand drifted to her mouth. She let her fingers play over her smile, not even caring that she must have weighed a ton. He’d carried her to bed rather than wake her up on the couch . . . or just leave altogether.

  Hopping up from the bed, she smoothed a hand over her wild hair, caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and shrugged. Deciding it was hopeless, she padded barefoot into the kitchen.

  Knox stood shirtless in front of her stove. She stared at his broad, sinewy back with the dragon tattoo that wrapped around his side, disappearing around his ribs. Her mouth watered at the sight and she shifted on her feet, commanding her libido to get back down.

  “Hey,” she greeted, butterflies erupting in her stomach at the full impact of him, in a pair of jeans that sat low on his narrow hips, in her kitchen. Making breakfast.

  He had actually stayed.

  “Hey.” He turned halfway and smiled at her. “Hungry?”

  She nodded and plopped down on one of her bar stools, pressing her legs together as if that would stop their sudden shaking. She could probably count on one hand the number of times Knox smiled, and most of those times had been last night. She liked that they were continuing into today.

  “Good. It’s just about ready.” Two pieces of toast popped up and he did this little bounce step to pluck them from the toaster that ended with him swearing and tossing the hot bread around until they landed on the waiting plates.

  She clapped. “Impressive.” And she was impressed. Not just with his toast-­saving expertise but with the play of cut muscles along his ribs and torso.

  He winked. “I have mad toast-­making skills.”

  He dished up the rest of their breakfast. So much food she wondered if this was meant to be her last meal. Ever. “Who is going to eat all this?”

  “We are.” He surprised her by pressing a lingering kiss to her mouth before settling back down on the stool beside her.

  “I usually skip breakfast,” she confessed.

  “Terrible. Hasn’t anyone told you it’s the most important meal of the day?”

  “Yes. I’ve heard that. I just would rather sleep the extra ten to twenty minutes.”

  At the mention of time, she glanced at the clock and gasped. “Is it really eleven?”

  “Yeah. Guess this is technically brunch.” He gestured to their plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

  “I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.”

  “You had a late night.” He stared at her in his devouring way, swiping back the heavy fall of hair off her shoulder.

  She looked at him steadily. “It could have been a longer night . . .” If they had sex . . .

  His gaze moved over her face, the searing blue darkening and heating her skin. “Your food is getting cold.”

  She dropped her attention to her breakfast. “Mmm,” she murmured in appreciation as she scooped the first bite of buttery eggs into her mouth. “This is really good.”

  “Not much of a cook, but I can make some mean eggs and spaghetti.”

  “It’s great. Thanks.”

  He winked at her and her stomach gave another flip at this lighter side of Knox. She could get used to him like this.

  A text dinged on her phone. She could glimpse the screen from where she sat.

  Don’t forget to bring a dessert for the BBQ!!

  “Dammit,” she cursed at the sight of her sister’s text.

  “What is it?”

  She nodded at the phone. “My sister. I forgot I promised to go to her barbecue today.”

  “Oh.” He turned his stare back to his eggs, stabbing a fluffy bit with his fork. He dropped it into his mouth and followed it with a big bite of bacon.

  She stared at his profile for a moment before she heard herself blurting, “Would you like to go with me?”

  She wasn’t sure why she asked. Her sister would freak out, but she wasn’t thinking about her sister right then. She was thinking about him. About right now. Sitting here having breakfast with him and how she could get used to that. Maybe it was a test, too.

  Maybe she needed to see if he made up some excuse and scurried away. She might as well find out now if this was maybe something real. If there was that chance.

  It was some time before he answered, and by then she was calling herself an idiot and fully expecting him to decline. They were still in unchartered territory and she had just invited him to a family bar­becue?

  “Yeah.” He finally said. “I would.”

  KNOX WAS GOING to meet her family.

  He wasn’t certain what had inspired him to agree. He could claim it was the soft hope gleaming in her eyes when she invited him. That was definitely a part of it. He wanted to make her happy, and for some reason taking him to this barbecue and bringing him around her ­people would do that.

  He didn’t know why—he was certainly no prize for any woman—but she wanted him there. And he just wanted her. He knew that now. He accepted it. He felt lighter owning that fact. He wanted her around him. He wanted her under him, and he wasn’t going to pretend differently anymore.

  There were several cars parked in front of the two-­story suburban home. It was a nice house even if it did resemble every other one on the street. Better than the old run-­down farmhouse he grew up in with peeling linoleum floors. Except it never bothered h
im much as boy. He and North had run over those floors in their football cleats. They’d explored every acre surrounding the house, hunting for arrowheads. He preferred the wide-­open space of the country to living in one of these boxes. It reminded him of his cell block back in the prison. Relentless uniformity.

  At least at his house he could walk out his front door and see trees.

  As they made their way to her sister’s front porch, he took her hand in his. She sent him a startled look that was replaced with a smile he felt like a punch to his stomach. It was soft and tender and gave him all kinds of ideas. He suddenly regretted that he hadn’t touched her last night because all he wanted to do now was haul her off somewhere and taste all those parts of her that were soft and tender. The places that made her melt and sigh for him.

  They were almost to the door when he tugged her back a step. “Hey,” he murmured.

  She looked up at him curiously, stopping in front of him. “Hey.” She angled her head, still wearing that smile.

  He reached up and dragged a thumb down her cheek, staring into her eyes and thinking that he’d never seen softer eyes.

  He kissed her, taking his time, parting her lips and sweeping inside her mouth, tasting her until he felt her hands crawl up his chest and wrap around his neck.

  He pulled back with a ragged breath. “Okay. Let’s go in.”

  She made a small sound of disappointment, staring up at him with a cloudy gaze. “I say we forget the barbecue.”

  He chuckled, readjusting his grip on the supermarket bag that held cookies. “Can’t do that. You promised your sister.”

  “She won’t even notice if I’m not there.”

  Still holding her hand, he stepped forward and pushed the doorbell. “Something tells me she will.” And if he was going to be in Briar’s life, then he needed to meet this sister and try to win her over.

  “Fine,” she grumbled and started to say something else but the door suddenly opened.

  “Briar!” The woman he had noticed in pictures at Briar’s place leaned forward to hug her. She sent him a suspicious look as she pulled back. “Who’s this?”