All Chained Up (20 page)

“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

B
RIAR 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 him 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?”

“This is my . . . friend. Knox. Knox, this is Laurel.”

They shook hands. “You didn't mention you were bringing a friend.” Laurel shot a pointed look at Briar that told him all he needed to know. She wasn't happy he was here. She glanced down at their clasped hands and frowned. Yeah, she definitely wasn't happy. There'd be no winning her over today.

“Well, come in. Everyone's out back.” She plucked the bag of cookies from Knox and tugged her sister inside, effectively breaking their linked hands.

Briar shot him an apologetic look over her shoulder as her sister dragged her ahead of him into the house.

He shut the front door and followed at a sedate pace.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.

 

TWENTY-THREE

L
AUREL WASTED NO
time hauling Briar into her bedroom and shutting the door, cutting them off from the rest of the party so she could get to the bottom of Briar bringing a guy to the barbecue. “Who is he?”

Briar shrugged and glanced around Laurel's bedroom. She ran a hand over the bed, pretending to admire her sister's new comforter. “Is this Pottery Barn?”

“Don't try to change the subject on me. Who is that guy? He looks a little . . .” Briar's eyes snapped to her sister, something tight and defensive brewing inside her. “. . . rough,” Laurel finished, arching both eyebrows, daring Briar to deny that description.

“Knox and I are friends.”

“He was holding your hand.”

“We're good friends,” she amended.

Laurel's eyes widened and she shot a quick glance at the door before hissing, “Oh my God! You're sleeping with him!”

A flush crept up Briar's face. Was she that transparent?

“This is serious and you haven't even mentioned him to me,” Laurel accused. “You haven't slept with anyone since Beau.”

Briar rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I'm kind of aware of my sexual history.” Limited as it was.

Laurel cocked her head to the side and propped a hand to her hip. “Are you also ‘aware,' or did it slip your mind, that I have a
date
for you here today?”

“What?” She dropped her hands to her hips, dread pooling in her stomach. “I didn't ask you to set me up—­”

“I told you Martin Ford was going to be here weeks ago. He's been asking when you're going to get here. I invited him for you! What am I supposed to do now that you've shown up with a date?”

“Tell the truth. I started seeing someone and you didn't know.” She shrugged. “Sorry,” she added, even though she wasn't. Laurel had created this situation. Briar refused to let it be her problem.

“Who is he?” Laurel crossed her arms over her chest and leveled Briar with one of her parent death-­stares. “Where did you meet? What does he do?'

Briar sucked in a deep breath. She knew these questions were coming, but that didn't mean she was ready to answer any of them. She edged toward the door. “Shouldn't we get back to your guests?”

“Briar . . .” her sister said in that warning voice she used when dealing with her children.

“He doesn't know anyone here. It's rude to just leave him alone out there.”

“He's a big boy. Now answer me, damn it.”

She closed her eyes in a tight blink and then focused on her sister's face. “I met him at Devil's Rock prison.”

Her sister paused, processing this. “He works there?” she asked with a slight flare of her nostrils, and Briar remembered that this Martin guy was an accountant. That was the type of man her sister wanted her to go out with. “What is he? One of the corrections officers?” Her top lip curled faintly, clearly thinking Briar could do better than that.

“No.”

Her sister stared at her. “Did he work in the clinic with—­”

“He was an inmate, Laurel.”

Laurel staggered back a step, her arms dropping to her sides. Revulsion rippled over her face. “No.”

Briar nodded. “He served his time and he's out now—­”

“Oh my God.” She clutched her chest. “You're just like Mom—­”

“No,” Briar bit out. “He's a good man who made a mistake and served out his sentence for his crime.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” She nodded her head doggedly. “He went to prison! What did he do?” Laurel's eyes burned laser-­hot into her.

Briar shook her head once and looked down at her feet, unwilling to say it, knowing how it sounded. She'd thought that way at first, before she knew Knox. Before he'd saved her life and Dr. Walker and Josiah.

“Un-­fucking believable.” Briar flinched. Her sister never cursed. “Whatever he did, you can't even say it. Was it murder? Did he kill someone?”

She looked up at her sister. “You don't understand. He never meant to kill anyone . . . and the guy he attacked did a horrib—­”

“Stop! Stop it! You're making excuses for him. You sound just like Mom. I can't believe you even brought this man into my house, Briar.” Her eyes widened and shot to the door as though it dawned on her that this
dangerous
man was out there with all her friends . . . with her children.

“I really need you to have an open mind about this, Laurel, and trust my judgment,” Briar whispered. “You're all I have for a family.” Her relationship with her parents was nonexistent. Her mom lived to serve her father, taking his abuses, weathering his temper, bowing to all his whims, even at the loss of her daughters. That would never change. It would always be that way. Her sister was all she had left.

Laurel smoothed her hands over her silky smooth Keratin-­treated hair. “I'm going to go back out there and act like there isn't some dangerous criminal in my home—­”

“He's not—­”

“And then
you
!”—­Laurel's gaze cut her like a knife—­“are going to promise me that you will never bring him around me or my family again. Go ahead. Ruin your life, Briar. I can't stop you from being with him, but I don't have to watch it or be around it.”

Briar nodded stiffly, frustration an aching mass in her chest. It hurt because she loved her sister and wanted her support. “I understand,” she said.

With a single stiff nod, Laurel swept out of the bedroom. Briar lingered a moment longer, blinking stinging eyes and telling herself that she wasn't wrong in this. Last night . . . this morning, she knew what she was doing. She knew who Knox really was. Or at least she knew enough to know that he was no threat to her. No more than Beau or any other seemingly
good
man. He wasn't her father and she wasn't her mother.

Who they could be together . . . no matter what her sister thought, she wanted to find out.

SHE HAD TOLD
her sister about Knox. He knew the minute Laurel emerged from the house and leveled bitter-­cold eyes on him as he stood nursing the beer Briar's brother-­in-­law foisted on him. That look said it all. She knew he'd done time and she thought he was scum for it.

He didn't feel much like drinking, but he clasped his sweating bottle as he waited for Briar to return.

Laurel's reaction didn't surprise him, but he was surprised it still stung. He'd lived with the world's low opinion of him for over eight years, and the only reason it didn't destroy him was because he didn't give a flying fuck what others thought of him. Hell, he'd been driving a vandalized truck around with the word “killer” emblazoned on the side.

He only cared what his family and the few friends he had thought of him. And Briar. He cared what she thought. Hell, he wouldn't be here feeling so out of place if he didn't care what she thought. Admittedly, it would be nice if her sister didn't hate the sight of him. It would make things harder for Briar.

Kids ran around the adults, screaming and hitting each other with foam balls. The men were discussing their jobs, while the wives were talking about the sports their kids played. Like these kids were headed for the Olympics or some shit. Caleb was a friendly enough guy and talked to him as he flipped burgers on the grill.

After delivering him that cutting glare, Laurel made a beeline for some guy grazing at the spread of food. He held a beer in one hand and his phone in the other, as if he couldn't be apart from the device.

Laurel beamed at him. No flinty-­eyed stare for him. She talked with her hands, her gaze flickering in Knox's direction. The smile slipped off Phone Man's face, and Knox guessed that she was explaining that Briar had showed up with a
friend
.

Briar arrived then, stepping out onto the crowded patio. She scanned the ­people milling around. Her amber gaze lit up when she spotted him and his chest loosened like he could breathe again.

And that's why he was here. It was the only reminder he needed.

“How long you been dating Briar?” Caleb moved some burgers, lifting them to the upper rack, and then reached for the waiting package of cheese slices.

“We met a few months back.” Not a lie precisely.

Caleb began arranging cheese on top of the burgers. “She hasn't mentioned you.”

It was said innocently enough but it felt like an accusation. Knox looked back, only to see that Laurel had snagged Briar and was tugging her toward the food table and Phone Man.

He watched with narrowed eyes as Briar's sister introduced them to each other with great flourish. Phone Guy shook Briar's hand, holding on longer than necessary.

“Who's that?” he heard himself asking Caleb.

Caleb glanced up from the grill. “That would be my boss's son, Martin Ford. He's a CPA. Laurel's been trying to set them up for a while.” He took a pull from his beer and considered Knox. “Guess that's not happening today.” He shrugged and leaned in conspiratorially to add, “Fine by me. The guy's a prick.”

Knox nodded noncommittally, not voicing agreement but already disliking the guy just from the way he looked Briar up and down, openly assessing her in her floral print sundress like she was some buffet spread out before him. It wasn't a flashy dress. It ended just at her knees, but Phone Man looked at her like she wasn't wearing anything at all.

“Everyone knows it,” Caleb grumbled. “Except for my wife.” He shrugged and shot Knox a grin. “Whad'ya going to do, though?”

He nodded, fighting the urge to stay where he was and not act like a guy straight out of prison—­even if he was. This was a family barbecue. Briar's family. He didn't need to lose his shit and embarrass her.

“You like cheese on your burger?”

He dragged his attention away from Martin Ford, who stood with his hand on Briar's shoulder, keeping it there longer than necessary. A CPA. He was wearing khaki slacks and an immaculately pressed plaid button-­down. He looked like the kind of guy that would date a nice girl like Briar.

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied.

Caleb looked toward Briar and Martin and shook his head. “How about another beer, man?”

Knox exhaled, wondering how long he could stand by like it didn't bother him that Briar was across the patio getting pawed by some guy handpicked by her sister. “Sounds good.”

Briar looked across the distance at him, her eyes full of apology. He nodded at her like none of it was a problem—­being here among these ­people who lived their gingerbread lives in their gingerbread houses . . . her sister hating the sight of him. He tried to look like everything was going to be okay even though he was starting to wonder if that was true.

“I'VE BEEN HEARING
about you for months,” Martin said as he swirled a carrot stick in some dip. Crunching down on it, his gaze drifted back to her face almost expectantly. Briar stared at him, unsure how to respond.

Laurel had disappeared after whispering in tight warning, “Talk to him. Don't be rude.”

“We finally meet.” He rocked back on his heels, showing off crunchy bits of orange carrots coated in white dip in his mouth.

“Yes.” She nodded awkwardly, glancing over to where Knox stood chatting with Caleb. At least her brother-­in-­law was being a good guy and talking to him. Unlike her sister. Laurel was probably hiding all their valuables right now.

Martin nodded, bobbing his entire head and eyeing her. “So we should go out. You know, on a date. I know this place that makes the best enchiladas.”

“Uh—­”

“Oh, you're serious about this guy you brought? Your sister said it wasn't anything serious.”

She winced. Of course her sister would have told him that. “I'm not really interested in seeing ­anyone—­”

“What's he do?”

“Excuse me?”

“What's he do?”

“For a living?” she asked.

“Yeah. Last year I cleared six figures. Bought a BMW. What's he do?”

Oh, he was a definite prize. “I'm going to go now.” She started to turn away, but he grabbed her arm.

“Hey, I'm just kidding with you, don't get your panties in a knot,” he cajoled. “Where's your sense of humor? It's called a joke.”

“Oh.” She laughed weakly.

He chuckled, still holding onto her arm.

“Hey, there.” Knox sidled up to her, slipping an arm around her waist. She practically sagged against him in her relief.

Martin looked him up and down. “Ah, is this him? The devil himself? Hi, there. I'm Martin. Looks like you beat me to the goal. I was supposed to go out with Brianna here.”

Knox reached out to shake his hand. “Her name is Briar.”

“Yeah. I said that.” He nodded, unfazed. “What's your name, man?”

“Knox Callaghan.”

Martin held a hand up to his ear like he was imitating an old man with failing hearing. “Knox? What's that? A nickname of some kind?”

Knox stared at him a moment before answering. “No. That's my real name.”

“Huh.” Martin nodded as if that made sense. “Well, we were just talking about you.”

“Were you?” He glanced at Briar and then back to Martin.

“Yes, she was about to tell me what you do for a living . . . Knox.”

“I work at Roscoe's.”

“Roscoe's? That shithole outside town?” Martin took a deep swig of his beer.

Knox clenched his jaw, not answering.

“Yeah,” he continued. “I've driven by the place. Never went in, though. Figured I'd have to get my tetanus up-­to-­date first.” Chuckling, Martin dove a hand into a bowl of chips on the table.

“Asshole,” Briar bit out, not even caring that she had just called the guy her sister invited for
her
an asshole.