by April Hunt
There was only picking up the pieces and praying that one of those fragments helped put a loved one’s mind at ease.
Mason crouched on the other side. “I always come in hoping to God that it’s not another one.”
Zoey chiseled her dry tongue off the roof of her mouth. “I didn’t come across a purse or an ID. Did you?”
“Nah. Didn’t expect to since he didn’t leave them behind at the other scenes. The bastard’s nothing if not predictable. We’ll find out who she is and make sure to notify next of kin.” The sky rumbled off in the distance. Mason glanced up and cursed. “That storm’s coming in fast. We need to get this entire scene covered because I’ll be damned if I’m going let a single strand of evidence wash away.”
“I’ll go get the tents,” Zoey volunteered.
She backtracked toward the safe zone, careful not to disturb anything in the process. Less than five seconds into the arduous task of tugging off her protective gear, a familiar tingle formed at the base of her neck.
Her Knox-dar.
The strange, shiver-like phenomenon occurred whenever Knox Steele stood in close proximity, a sad reminder of the embarrassing level of interest she had for Cade’s best friend. But it wasn’t possible.
Knox hadn’t stepped foot in DC in years—over two, to be exact.
“You’re a little far from the lab, aren’t you, angel? You get lost?”
Zoey’s hand stalled on her zipper.
That voice. The impossible became reality because Knox Steele’s low, husky baritone couldn’t be replicated—except by the Knox who visited in her dreams.
Zoey turned on reflex, and came face-to-face with the man himself.
Sexily rumpled, Knox’s dark hair curled over his ears as if he’d rolled out of bed a few minutes ago. Heavily worn blue jeans hung off his trim waist, and a leather jacket and dark cotton tee emphasized his broad chest and even wider shoulders.
Her heart stumbled into a double-time beat, and warmth rushed to her cheeks—and all points south. Under normal circumstances, she’d be ecstatic to realize her feminine parts hadn’t dried up and turned to dust.
But there wasn’t anything normal about Knox’s presence, or the way his alert focus conjured life into her usually dormant libido.
Standing less than three feet away from her teenage fantasy, she’d never been more aware of the fact that with her Tyvek suit zipped to her chin and the hood pulled over her limp blond hair, she could’ve played the principal part in a live-action sex ed presentation. Knox, all six foot three inches of him, looked as if he’d stepped straight off the pages of Bad Boy Weekly.
She bumped her glasses onto the bridge of her nose even though they hadn’t yet fallen, and forcefully put her attention back to shedding her suit. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”
“You sure about that? This doesn’t look like the crime lab—or your bed. Does Cade know you’re here?”
“Are you sure about where you are? In case your cell doesn’t have a map app, you’re in DC. Thought you should know since you’ve made it your life’s mission to avoid this place like the plague.”
The muscle in Knox’s jaw ticked wildly. If he’d been someone else, she’d apologize for hitting a nerve. Not with him. A former US Army Ranger like her brother, he could take that and a lot more.
“Hey, Wright!” Mason’s voice shouted, garnering her attention. The older police officer pointed to the sky. “Put a little hustle into it!”
Saved by the grumpy lieutenant.
Without another word, or a glance at Knox, Zoey deposited her suit into a large collection bag—in case any crucial evidence managed to stick on to her person—and handed it over to the tech to put with the others.
Walking back toward the CSI van, she fumed.
Unlike the rest of his brothers, Knox hadn’t returned home after his discharge two years ago. He’d wiped his hands clean of everyone, not even gifting them an occasional I’m-Not-Dead text. And now he was going to stand there, naughty smirk in place, and make comments about her life decisions?
No thank you.
The Zoey Knox had known two long years ago would’ve been tucked into her bed, sound asleep, with her cat, Snuggles, curled next to her pillow. But last year, she vowed that if her bum heart kept throwing obstacles into her daily routine, the least she could do was enjoy life in between the chaos.
Her heart worked fine now, nearly all textbook characteristics of Tetralogy of Fallot resolved. Things that had at one time been a trial were now second nature. She even maintained a healthy exercise routine, and because of her once-a-week self-defense class, could almost throw larger assailants over her shoulder and onto the mats.
But that was something he wouldn’t have known.
Because he hadn’t been around.
Cue mic drop.
Zoey possessed a strength she’d never known before—and yet after one prolonged glance from the eldest Steele brother, breathing ceased being an automatic physical response.
She needed distance to pull her head back on straight.
She needed time to collect her thoughts—and keep down her food.
She needed Knox Steele messing up her life like she needed another hole in her heart.
Chapter
Two
Stay. The fuck. Away.
Knox repeated those words in his head again and again, but they didn’t take. His focus was superglued onto Zoey as she hightailed it away from him, and hell if he couldn’t look away.
He’d screwed up the second he mentioned Cade. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Messing up was what he excelled at, a fact of which his brothers and cousin Grace would no doubt remind him the second he walked into Steele Ops headquarters.
Cade had already filleted him with his own tirade. A few hours ago, before plying him with more lasagna than an entire platoon could digest, his mom shared some choice words with him too, and with the promise of more in the future.
He just wasn’t used to dodging shade thrown by little Zoey Wright.
Knox fished his cell from his pocket and checked the time. One forty-five in the morning.
Thanks to an impromptu shortcut through an alley and his superpower as a trouble magnet, he was officially three hours late meeting up with Liam. Even if he left now, it would take another hour to cross the river into Old Town Alexandria.
For him, that was fine. He didn’t sleep much these days. But his brothers—Ryder especially—got damn cranky if they didn’t get their full eight. They wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if he’d stumbled onto a dead body or the winning Mega Ball ticket. The risk of thrown punches dropped dramatically if he waited until the morning for their in-person reunion.
He shot off a quick change-of-plans text to Liam and pocketed his phone. Across the street, Zoey had already stacked two tents onto a cart and was struggling with a third.
He jogged over to relieve her of the heavy bulk. “Let me help.”
“I have it covered.” Her face dotted with a fine dew, Zoey yanked again, and this time, placed the third tent with the others.
He reached out to grab the next one and got a glare in return.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Zoey scowled.
“You want to do this yourself?”
“I’m pretty sure I said something to that exact effect, yes.”
He lifted his hands in mock surrender and leaned against the back of the van to enjoy the show. “Fine. Go ahead, Rambo.”
Zoey’s T-shirt, sporting a cartoonish logo from an old television show, lifted, exposing her belly button as she maneuvered the bulky tent into position. “There. Another one down. Without assistance.”
She shot him a smug smile that nearly had him swallowing his tongue.
Pink-cheeked and lightly breathless from exertion, she looked as if someone had just taken her in a good, hard kiss. Lucky imaginary bastard. In his pants, his cock twitched out a warning, and he quickly diverted his gaze to a less dangerous attribut
e.
Or so he’d thought.
The physical warning got stronger as he studied Zoey’s expressive blue eyes. Amplified behind black-rimmed glasses, they showcased each and every one of her feelings. Without fail. Without filter.
Liam, one quarter of the Steele brigade, had once said that Zoey didn’t realize how hot she was, which made her even hotter. At the time, Knox hadn’t been inclined to think that way about his best friend’s little sister. Hell, he’d known her since she rocked the block on her pink-tasseled tricycle.
Now, as she stood in front of him with legs a mile long despite her petite frame, he couldn’t help but agree with his youngest brother—and imagine what those legs would feel like wrapped around his waist.
“Fudge it all to hell and back.” Zoey’s softly muttered curse pulled Knox’s thoughts out of the gutter and back to reality.
The last tent crashed to the ground, barely missing her toes. This time, he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’ll get it.”
“I almost had it,” she said in way of refusal.
“And almost lost a few digits too.” He cupped her slender shoulders and eased her off to the side.
“Did I ask for your help?” She shot her annoyance up at him through her long golden lashes.
“Nope.” Not swayed by her world-class glare, he easily stacked the last tent on top of the others and remained standing in her direct path.
Hands braced on her slender hips and sapphire eyes probably plotting his downfall, Zoey resembled a pissed-off fairy—except this fairy would bite if provoked. That same fiery spark came to the surface when she dealt with Cade or any of Knox’s brothers, but for some reason, dampened around him—until now.
This Zoey wasn’t running in the opposite direction.
Knox, challenged by her flame of annoyance, folded his arms across his chest. “So you’re in crime scene now. That’s a hell of a lot different than the lab. I didn’t even realize the District hired civilians.”
“I guess desperate times call for desperate measures.” Zoey tucked a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear, downplaying her skills.
“I’m sure you weren’t hired out of desperation, angel. You’re damn smart, and someone’s actually intelligent enough to realize it. But I’m surprised Cade wasn’t spewing off about it. He usually can’t shut up about stuff like this.”
Her attention shifted away as she grabbed the cart and tugged it around him.
Knox stuffed his hands into his pockets and boldly followed. “Ah, beautiful avoidance tactic. I’m impressed.”
“Then you’re impressed too easily,” she tossed back at him.
“He doesn’t know about the transfer, does he? You realize that he’s running lead on the task force, right? How long do you think you’re going to be able to keep him in the dark?”
“Until I can’t. He’s my brother, not my boss. I don’t have to ask for Cade’s permission, and I sure as heck don’t have to waste my time explaining my actions to you.”
“Didn’t say that you did. I just think he’d have a few things to say about his baby sister hanging out in dark alleyways in the middle of the night.”
“Damn straight I do,” Cade’s voice growled.
He stood at the mouth of the alley and waited for their approach, his eyes darkening with a mixture of fury and exhaustion—and locked on his sister.
Not much riled his best friend—and fellow former Ranger—but Zoey’s safety did.
“Saw Mason a few minutes ago. Had a nice chat, and he couldn’t help but brag about his new wingman. Or is it wing-woman?”
Zoey came to a hesitant stop. “He was bragging?”
“Please tell me that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Zo.”
“Depends on what he told you. But he’s a pretty smart guy.”
“Why the hell would you leave the Dungeon?”
“Because people call it the Dungeon. The longer I stay in the lab, the more my soul shrivels and withers away. Pretty soon I won’t have one. I need a change.”
“Then get a new haircut, but you don’t switch jobs so you’re close to the shit that happens in this city.”
Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. “Did you seriously tell me to get a haircut?”
Knox snorted on a chuckle and was immediately rewarded with a murderous glare. “You have something to say? Again?”
He raised his hands. “Not saying a word, angel.”
“Good.” Zoey turned back to Cade. “As much fun as I’m having discussing this with you, I have work to do. If I’m not back at the scene with these tents in five seconds, Mason’s going to roll heads down the alley like bowling balls. I’d like to make sure that mine isn’t one of them—because I’m not getting a new haircut or a new job.”
She tugged on the cart. Knox stepped aside with less than an inch to spare before she ran him over. He swallowed a chuckle as he watched her denim-clad ass strut away.
“You’re so fucking lucky you got brothers,” Cade muttered.
“Not so sure my brothers would agree with you. She’s…different.”
His friend scrubbed a palm over his face. “That’s putting it mildly. Ever since the scare last year she’s been doing her best to turn me prematurely gray. I actually contemplated buying that comb-in crap last week.”
Knox remembered Cade’s panicked voicemail as if it had been yesterday. Hell, it sent him into a tailspin too.
He’d abruptly quit the shipping yard where he’d been picking up a few odd hours fixing yachts for the well-to-dos and fishermen alike, and hustled to DC. No reunions. No side trips. His one stop had been Georgetown Hospital—and Zoey’s bedside.
To this day, no one knew he’d been in town. He’d sweet-talked the night nurse into letting him stay long enough to make sure Zoey was on the upswing, and then he disappeared before first light.
Zoey Wright may not have caused his two-year absence from DC, but he couldn’t deny that she was one of the reasons why he’d returned. Plagued with nightmares every time he closed his eyes, he experienced brief glimmers of peace when he thought about her smile, or the slight pink of her cheeks when she got embarrassed.
Knox didn’t deserve peace. He didn’t deserve Zoey. He didn’t deserve to be back in his family’s lives.
Yet there he stood.
For now.
From the dark recess of the building, he watched.
What started as gratification over a loophole closed quickly morphed to the warm tingle of anticipation. Less than ten feet away, His Heart stood like a bright, shining beacon.
She’d come to him.
Finally.
For years, She’d been a constant in his life…a steadfast pillar in a world of wavering disappointments. Her eyes. Her smile. Her laughter. He knew them all like his own, and he knew what life was like without them.
He’d never again take Her presence for granted.
Soaking up the sight of Her, he re-familiarized himself with the gentle sway of Her hips. Her hair, pulled away from Her face, revealed the tender arch of Her neck. Even from this distance, Her skin glowed with the softness he could practically feel beneath his fingertips.
She turned toward him, and he held his breath, expecting the gentle curl of Her smile. Instead, a frown marred Her delicate features. The sight of it tore apart his insides.
He’d caused that. Selfishly worrying about what he needed, he hadn’t thought about Her.
All this time he’d been trying to duplicate their magical connection with others when he should’ve been trying to reignite it with Her. It was the reason why none of the others had worked.
They. Weren’t. Her.
Shifting in the shadows, he vowed to do whatever was necessary to bring His Heart back into his life. Sacrifices would have to be made, but he’d been raised to believe that with success, came some loss.
He’d fix the damage he’d caused, and prove that his love and devotion knew no boundaries.
Her heart. Her bo
dy. Her life.
They were his to love and protect.
Until the end of time.
Or until the end of them.
Chapter
Three
Knox pulled his refurbished motor sailor alongside the riverside dock and tied the Angel Eyes to the only cleat that didn’t look about to fall into the Potomac. Seventy percent convinced his floating apartment wouldn’t drift toward the Chesapeake, he jumped out and faced Steele Ops’ new home.
He had to credit his brothers for their creativity. Built in the mid-nineteenth century, the Keaton Jailhouse was an Old Town Alexandria landmark. Aged gray stone rose up from the riverside foundation in a massive three-story structure with accented arched windows and four castle-like turrets nestling each corner.
Construction equipment littered the grounds, evidence of the remodel happening inside, which according to Liam’s last text, was about 80 percent complete. They’d spent years dreaming the particulars required to start their own private security firm…and there she stood in all her cobwebbed, gothic glory.
As Knox climbed the steps, two distinct voices drifted onto the rotunda. He pushed the back door open and soaked in the sight of his two younger brothers hovering over the wood plank in front of them.
Arms folded across his chest, Ryder shook his head in disgust. “You’re holding the saw like a moron. I’m telling you right now, I refuse to sew your hand back on after you cut the damn thing off. Hell, I’m not even going to staunch the bleeding.”
Liam threw Ryder a dark scowl. “Like I’d be stupid enough to let you near a life-threatening injury. Those Marines may have trusted you with their asses, but I’m smart. I joined the Navy.”
Ryder scoffed, not one to give up or give in. “Navy Intelligence. You didn’t exactly swim with the big fishes.”
“You’re right. The big fishes wouldn’t be half as effective if they didn’t have brains like me telling them what to do and when to breathe.”
Knox’s mouth twitched with the familiarity of the mutual branch-bashing. It was a family tradition nearly as old as time itself. “Why are you guys still having this argument? Everyone knows the Rangers are the only ones that get shit done. Everyone else is just playing soldier.”
