“One of those other reasons have anything to do with a pretty little librarian who hates your guts?”
He sighed, absently patting his pockets.
“Already had your one,” I reminded him.
“Fuck,” he muttered. It was as flustered as he allowed himself to get.
I had the temper. Nash had the good nature. And Lucian had the self-control of a fucking monk.
“Whatever happened with you two anyway?” I asked, enjoying the distraction of his discomfort.
“Your brother is in an ICU bed,” Lucian said. “That’s the only reason I’m not knocking your teeth out right now.”
As close as we’d all been, the one thing Lucian never shared was what made Sloane hate him. Up until last night, I’d thought the feeling was mutual. But I’d seen his face when he saw her, when she walked away. I didn’t know much about feelings, but whatever was written all over his face didn’t look like hate to me.
“You probably don’t even remember how to throw a punch,” I teased. “All those conference room negotiations. You just sic your lawyers on people instead of delivering a nice right cross to the face. Bet it’s less satisfying.”
“You can take the boy out of Knockemout but you can’t take the Knockemout out of the boy,” he said.
I hoped it was true. “Appreciate you bein’ here.”
He nodded. “I’ll stay with him until Liza comes back in.”
“That’d be good,” I said.
We stood in silence, legs braced as the sun rose, adding gold to the pink and purple. A new day had officially begun. A lot of things were gonna change, and I was keyed up to make it all happen.
“Get some sleep.” Lucian dug into his pocket and tossed me his keys. “Take my car.”
I caught them midair and hit the unlock button. A shiny Jaguar blinked its headlights at me from a primo parking spot.
“Always did have good taste.”
“Some things never change.”
But some things had to.
“I’ll see you later, man.”
He nodded. And then I surprised the hell out of us both by wrapping him in a hard one-armed hug.
“Missed you, brother.”
TWENTY-THREE
KNOX KNOX. WHO’S THERE?
Naomi
I was torn from a fitful sleep on the couch by pounding at the front door. Disoriented, I stumbled around the coffee table and tried to remember where I was.
The $20,000 in cash still tucked away in my apron.
Nash.
Knox.
Waylay’s first day of school.