Fight for Me Page 12

  Knox disappeared around the corner into the truck-stop convenience store.

  Although they’d refused Amelia’s offer to go out of town with her for a while, they did accept a sizable amount of money. Their bags were at her house, so all they had left were the clothes on their backs and whatever cash was in their pockets.

  So not much.

  But Natalie would find a way to make it up to Amelia. That woman had been a godsend, and now she was running away from her own home. It wasn’t right.

  But Natalie would make it right.

  She smiled at a mom who had three young children in tow, the youngest of which was doing an impressive pee-pee dance. Travelers passing through. Amelia had dropped them off at a truck stop on the outskirts of town, right near the interstate. As far as she knew, their story hadn’t made the national news, so no one here should recognize them.

  Should being the key word.

  None of the events from the last few days should have happened.

  She shouldn’t be running for her life from her father.

  Knox shouldn’t have to risk himself for her.

  She shouldn’t be falling in love with Knox.

  It was crazy. The timing was terrible and he was a street fighter, coming from a life she knew nothing about. It shouldn’t make any sense.

  And yet, it was the only thing in her life that did make sense right now. Her thoughts about everything else were so scrambled, but her thoughts about him were clear. When she looked at Knox, she knew she was where she belonged—by his side, wherever that may be.

  And right now, that just happened to be on the run from some of the most powerful people in the city. People she hadn’t even known existed a week ago.

  Well, she’d wanted to broaden her horizons, she thought bitterly.

  Knox reappeared with a cheap backpack and two plastic bags, one full of food and the other full of random clothing and toiletries. A trucker cap peeked out from the top of the bag. Nice touch.

  Inside the truck stop there were facilities you could rent by the hour. Natalie put in the necessary cash and they slipped into a tiny bathroom with a stand-up shower stall. She’d have to dye her hair in the sink.

  The color Knox had found was labeled burnt sienna, but it looked more like tree bark to her. It was awful.

  “That’s all they had,” he said apologetically. “It was either that or red.”

  “This is fine,” Natalie reassured him. “It doesn’t matter. I just need to be less recognizable.”

  She opened the box and laid out all the supplies on the sink. Standing behind her, Knox ran a lock of her hair through his fingers. She met his gaze in the mirror, and a ball of heat formed in her stomach.

  He spun her around, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “I hate that you have to change,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against hers.

  “It’s just hair. Some women change their hair color every other week.”

  He traced the features of her face with his fingertip, starting with her forehead and working his way down to her lips. She kissed his finger.

  “You’re perfect the way you are,” he said simply.

  She brought her lips to his, and the warmth of his mouth increased the heat in her body until it was all-consuming.

  Her hands slipped under his shirt, and he pulled away.

  “You’d better dye your hair.”

  She took a minute to catch her breath and regain her composure. Knox’s touch did that to her—made her forget she was in a filthy truck stop restroom. Made her forget her troubles, if only momentarily.

  “Yeah.” She sighed and turned back toward the mirror. Then she gathered her hair in a ponytail and picked up the scissors. After one last long look at her reflection, she closed her eyes and hacked at her hair with the cheap shears. When she opened her eyes, she saw long locks of blond hair all over the floor and in the sink.

  She gave a halfhearted smile to Knox in the mirror, who was watching over her shoulder. “It’s just hair, right?”

  He gave her arm one last squeeze and slipped out of the room.

  It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. But damn it if tears didn’t well up in her eyes, making it difficult to read the instructions on the dye kit. She’d always had long blond hair. Now she’d be a bobbed brunette.

  With one final look in the mirror, she leaned over the sink to apply the first chemical.

  Knox almost didn’t recognize Natalie when she emerged half an hour later, toweling her damp, dark, short hair. When he looked into her eyes, though, he saw her—the woman who meant everything.

  The dark auburn color made her skin look even creamier and the blue of her eyes even more striking. It was a different look, but she was still gorgeous. Most importantly, though, the casual observer wouldn’t recognize her.

  “That’s pretty good,” he said.

  “If only we could change your appearance that easily.”

  He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “Soon I’ll have a full beard.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “That’s true. But hopefully you’ll be able to shave in peace before you go all Duck Dynasty on us.”

  “Don’t worry about that. It itches like crazy. The first chance I get, it’s coming off.”

  They left the truck stop, already having lingered too long. Knox had kept watch the whole time she was in the bathroom, sizing up everyone who laid eyes on him. Could they be one of X’s men? Or Kent’s? At least police were easy to spot in their uniforms.

  He had also kept his eye on the TV behind the cashier. The big story was an Ecstasy drug bust at a local club that was full of minors. The break-in and subsequent shoot-out at Amelia’s hadn’t made the news yet, but it was only a matter of time. There were too many witnesses for it to be swept under the rug.

  Knox used the GPS on his phone to take them to a place he had found on the Internet while waiting for Natalie. The house had been listed for sale for over a year, and by the looks of the pictures, the damn thing should probably be condemned. For their purposes, it was perfect. No one was likely to visit it anytime soon.

  Her lock-picking kit was in her bag that had been left at Amelia’s, so she’d had to pick up some new tools at the local hardware store on their walk to the house. She hadn’t been pleased by the selection, though. Hopefully she’d still be able to get the job done. She’d said she could, and that was good enough for him. He located the main water valve in the backyard and turned the water on, but there was no power. Good thing the spring weather was in full force.

  The inside had been gutted. Walls were ripped out, leaving exposed wires everywhere, the linoleum floors had been torn away, showing cracked concrete, and the appliances were all missing, not that the last part mattered since they had no electricity anyway.

  It was less than ideal, but it was a shelter away from prying eyes. And the toilet worked. That was important.

  Natalie looked around the dilapidated house, her arms wrapped around herself. This had to be a far cry from what she was used to.

  But she didn’t say a word, just unrolled the cheap sleeping bags they’d picked up at the hardware store to set up a sleeping area in one of the bedrooms.

  Knox pulled the razor he’d bought at the truck stop out of the bag. “I’m going to shave.”

  “Do you mind if I use the phone? I want to research Eleanor Simmons some more. Someone has to know where she is.”

  “Sure,” he said, handing her the phone. He paused for moment before going into the bathroom. “I’m sorry about the house. It’s—”

  “Perfect,” she said. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Perfect. No one will know we’re staying here and more importantly, we’re not putting anyone else at risk.”

  He slipped his hands under her shirt, wanting to feel the softness of her skin.

  “What happened at Amelia’s wasn’t your fault.” Even though Amelia had said the same thing, he knew it still we
ighed on her.

  She let out a breath. “Yeah.” It was obvious she didn’t believe it, though.

  He lowered his mouth to hers. Her arms wrapped tighter around his neck and her breasts pressed against his chest. He gripped her ass, pulling her against him.

  Minutes or hours could have passed and he wouldn’t know the difference. He was lost in the feel of her, the taste of her, the smell of her. He’d never felt such a pull toward another human being before.

  He broke away to find her lips swollen and her skin red from where his whiskers had rubbed against her cheeks.

  “Ouch,” he said, running a finger over it.

  “What?” she said breathlessly.

  “I’m going to shave. You do your research.”

  Ten minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom feeling more like himself. Natalie was engrossed in the phone, jotting down notes on a scrap sheet of paper.

  “Find anything?” he asked.

  “Kind of.” She frowned, obviously frustrated. “The only family Eleanor has around here is a stepson. Victor Harding. I’ve met the guy a few times. Complete asshole. But he might know where she is.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah. The trouble is that no one’s phone number is listed anywhere. But I learned on social media that he has dinner once a week at O’Henry’s. He’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Knox met her determined stare with his own. “Then so will we.”

  Chapter 12

  Natalie bounced on her feet, throwing a few short jabs and feeling very much like Rocky. Knox stood across from her with his hands on his hips, an amused expression on his face.

  So maybe she wasn’t so much like Rocky. Rocky’s opponents didn’t laugh at him.

  Or so she thought, anyway. Rocky had never been her thing.

  They were in the largest room in their run-down temporary home, and all the blinds were open to allow the sunlight to stream in through the grimy windows.

  She and Knox were at an impasse. With no new information, they had time to kill before they could try to intercept Victor Harding at dinner. So Knox decided Natalie needed to learn some basic self-defense moves.

  “Rule number one—fight dirty.”

  She frowned and stopped moving, dropping her hands to her sides. “Seriously?” That didn’t seem like it should be rule number one.

  “Sorry, you’re right,” Knox said. “Rule number one is to avoid the fight. Run away. You’ve tried to do that already, but sometimes the fight can’t be avoided. That brings us to fight dirty.”

  This was not what she thought Knox had in mind when he said he wanted to train her. She was thinking more along the lines of learning how to choke someone out like he did to the guy at Amelia’s house. Or he could teach her how to punch. Either one of those would be fine. But fighting dirty?

  “Do you fight dirty?”

  “I don’t need to.”

  She cocked her head at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m a trained fighter. I’m also a comparable size to most of my opponents. You, on the other hand”—he took a moment to survey her figure—“are going to be outsized. You need all the advantages you can get. So fight dirty.”

  She’d protest, except he was right. She didn’t have the time needed to become the formidable fighter who could inflict a lot of damage. Avoiding injury was probably her best tactic.

  “Got it. Fight dirty. In other words, kick them in the nuts.” She was going for a laugh, trying to keep it light, but Knox nodded seriously.

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You kick a man hard enough, that will take him down or at least slow him down long enough for you to get away.”

  “Even you?”

  “You kick me hard enough in the junk, then sure. I’ll go down.”

  As he spoke, her gaze shifted south and lingered. Then realizing she was ogling him while he watched, she snapped her neck up, a blush spreading over her cheeks.

  The amused smile returned to Knox’s face. His serious demeanor gave way to so few smiles, but his face positively glowed when they appeared, making his hard good looks softer and more approachable.

  Most times, Knox was downright intimidating, from the expression on his face to the way he postured his body. He looked like a panther, muscles tense and ready to attack at a moment’s notice. She wondered if he did this on purpose or if he even realized he was doing it.

  Knox stepped toward her, his cool gaze sizing her up.

  On second thought, he totally knew. There was nothing Knox did that wasn’t deliberate.

  He stopped a few feet in front of her and crossed his arms, the muscles flexing in his forearms. “If I come at you from the front, what would you do?”

  She licked her lips. Jump your bones. That probably wasn’t the answer he was going for.

  He approached slowly, and she watched the strong muscles of his thighs flex with every small step he took. Heat pooled between her legs in response.

  “Keep your eyes on your attacker’s face,” he commanded. “His eyes will give away his next move.”

  She did as instructed, looking into his intense umber eyes. Her knees turned to jelly. So not helpful for self-defense.

  “Uh . . .” She flung her foot up, and he easily grabbed it before making contact, causing her to balance on one foot.

  “Wrong. You run. If I’m there and not occupied, you let me fight. Let’s pretend neither of those are options. What do you do?”

  He grabbed her wrist, his grasp firm, but not tight enough to hurt her.

  She brought her knee up, stopping right before it made contact. Much to her disappointment, he didn’t even flinch. Hopefully in a real fight, she’d get more of a reaction, especially if she actually followed through.

  “Good,” he said smoothly. “Now let’s say that’s not enough. Your attacker doesn’t let go.”

  “Well . . . um . . .” She couldn’t think with him this close to her, with his fingers wrapped around her wrist. Those fingers that worked magic on her body.

  “Knee him again if you can,” he instructed. “Then spin.” He showed her how to turn her body so that her back was against his chest. “Then use your elbows. Repeatedly. They’re one of the hardest parts of your body. Also, stomp down on his feet as hard as you can.”

  She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his hard stomach against her back.

  “That doesn’t seem very effective.”

  “You’re small and you’re not a trained fighter,” he said pragmatically. “Those are the facts. You will more than likely not be able to beat your attacker without some kind of weapon. Your goal is to inflict enough damage that you can run away.”

  “Okay. Use elbows and feet. Got it.”

  His fingers trailed down her arm, sending shivers shooting through her.

  “And scream. I know we’ve been trying hard not to attract attention, but if it comes down to it, scream. Bystanders may be able to help you.”

  “I can scream.” She rotated her hips so that her ass ground into his crotch. He stilled instantly, but she could feel that she had his attention.

  His full attention.

  His hands snaked around her stomach, spread wide, and he ran them up to cover her breasts. His mouth lowered to her throat, and she tilted her neck to give him better access.

  He quickly spun her around so they were chest to chest, and their mouths met in an explosion of heat and need. His fingers tangled in her now short, dark hair.

  She tugged at his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, needing to put her hands on his skin. For a few brief seconds while they were separated, they stared at one another, each panting slightly.

  “Knox,” Natalie said. “How have I not known you until now?”

  He made her feel alive, vibrant, wanted, needed.

  Desired.

  His answer was to crush his mouth to hers, parting her lips and tangling his tongue with hers.

  God, she wanted
his tongue on other places. She wanted it on her neck, her nipples, her clit.

  She tore her mouth away from his and trailed her tongue on his throat up to the sensitive space behind his ear. His breath hitched in his throat, and he put his hands on her ass and pulled her closer to him.

  It was exhilarating. She had the power to affect him the same way he affected her.

  She trailed kisses down his chest and over the ridges of his hard abdomen. When she met with the barrier of his jeans, she undid the top button, then slowly slid down the zipper with shaking hands.

  His erection was contained by the cotton of his boxer briefs, and she pulled those down, too. At first she used her hands to explore him, this part of him that drove her wild. The skin was much softer than she’d expected.

  Tentatively, she flicked her tongue on the soft skin that covered his hard length, and he groaned.

  She looked up at him. His eyes were closed and his fists were clenched at his sides. He was obviously struggling to maintain control.

  Taking his fist in her hand, she loosened it and laced her fingers through his. Then she took him in her mouth.

  She didn’t know what she was doing, but it didn’t seem to matter. She experimented with different pressure until he gasped out.

  “Stop.”

  She pulled away from him immediately. “Don’t you . . .” She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “Don’t you like it?”

  He used her arms to yank her up to a standing position. His eyes were wild.

  “Yes. Yes, I like it. But I like being inside you more.” He used his hand to lift her chin up so that she was forced to look in his eyes. “I love what you did to me. Fuck, I love what you do to me. I think I . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence, and instead pulled her shirt over her head. Then he dropped to his knees and yanked her jeans down.

  He pushed aside the cotton of her panties, and she got her wish. His tongue was all over her. She put her hands on his shoulders, needed the support as her knees weakened.

  He took her up and up, until she thought she would explode.

  “Knox . . .” She bit her lip as a tremor shot through her body. “I want to be with you.”