by April Hunt
Heat zipped through Zoey’s body, intensifying as she sunk her fingers through the back of his hair. “That’s a good point.”
“It is.” He nibbled her bottom lip.
“We should test it out.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up in a sexy smirk. “You think so, huh?”
“Without a doubt. Next time. Right now, we should see how long it takes to get to my place. It is closer.”
Knox hoisted her farther back in her seat, eliciting a small yelp. “I like the way your mind works, Wright. Break out your stopwatch. We’re on the clock.”
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Zoey swore the clock moved in reverse, making every tick of the second hand seem as though an hour had passed. Doctor visits ramped up her blood pressure, a physiological memory from a childhood spent in the hospital, and today’s was no exception.
The difference was that this one required physical labor.
She eyed the treadmill, already loathing everything it stood for. Ever since she’d been able to get back to a more active life, she’d done everything in her power to make sure that happened outdoors…or around people. Running in place didn’t meet that criteria.
The door opened and Dr. Samuel entered. “Hello, favorite patient.”
“Hello, favorite doctor,” Zoey quipped.
Instead of his usual suit and white lab coat, Dr. Samuel wore jeans and a polo shirt, making him look less like the well-known cardiac surgeon that he was.
“That’s practically your pj’s compared with what you normally wear,” she teased. “Or is it dress-down day at the office?”
Dr. Samuel chuckled. “I try to be a little more laid-back on lab days. I’ve been told that it makes the patients feel comfortable.”
“Gotcha.” Zoey tugged on her own baggy T-shirt and well-loved yoga pants.
“You wore your running shoes?”
She flexed her feet and showed off her almost-new Converse. “I did, and I’m ready to get this show on the road.”
He chuckled, easily reading her. “Eager for freedom?”
“Eager to be anywhere that isn’t here—no offense.”
“None taken. All right, have a seat first and let’s go ahead and get our pre-exercise echocardiography shots. Once we got what we need, we’ll jump on the treadmill for about fifteen minutes.”
Zoey sat on the exam table. “Oh, we’ll jump on the treadmill?”
He grinned. “Okay, you’ll jump on the treadmill and I will lazily kick back and watch the monitors…but I’ll try to look exhausted while doing it. How does that sound?”
“You got yourself a deal.”
The sonogram tech came into the room, and with the suggestions made by Dr. Samuel, took no fewer than a thousand images of her heart. What felt like years later, it was time to sweat. The test itself wasn’t an issue. Light jogs no longer left her winded.
It was the boredom, mixed with Dr. Samuel’s focus on the EKG machine, that made her want to run screaming.
After a brisk fifteen minutes on the treadmill, it was back to the pretty images that flashed red and blue, outlining Zoey’s cardiac function. This time as Dr. Samuel walked the tech through the images he wanted, the picture count went from a thousand to a million.
Zoey aged twenty years by the time Doc Samuel said she could get dressed back into her street clothes. Ten minutes after that, they sat in the result room, and his smile had yet to return.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Zoey. There are changes that I’m not thrilled with, but I won’t know how extensive they are until I study the feed a bit more. And I know I’m risking my favorite doctor status, but we also need to schedule you for a cardiac catheterization.”
“You’re right. You’re not my favorite anymore.” Although now a routine procedure, lying on a hard, sterile slab and holding still while someone shoved a camera through your heart was not a fun night out on the town. “The changes are that bad? It’s really necessary?”
“After last year’s event, I’m not willing to chance it and you shouldn’t either. I’m not saying that it needs to be done tomorrow, but it needs to be scheduled for sometime within the next two weeks.”
Zoey swallowed her disappointment. “Okay. And the Amplify that you put me on?”
“Keep taking it. When you’re two days from running out, give me a call.”
Zoey agreed and hustled into the fresh air, pulling her jacket close. She hunted for the Metro schedule stashed in her purse and headed toward the nearest train station.
The twenty-minute ride from Georgetown to Alexandria passed quickly, and from there, she hoofed it the three blocks to Iron Bars.
Picnic tables had been set out in what was soon to be the beer garden. Zoey liked the idea. Beer. Drinks. Food. Music. All in an outdoor garden setting that brushed alongside the Potomac. At the first sign of warm weather, people would flock here in droves.
As she reached the back door, it crashed open. A young redhead, her bag clutched to her chest, nearly knocked her down the steps. Her attention shot to Zoey. “Do yourself a favor and turn around. No job is worth having to deal with the king of assholes.”
Zoey watched the redhead stalk around the side of the building before stepping into the distillery. She peeked around the corner, looking to see which Steele brother had earned the asshole title. Roman stood behind the bar, muttering under his breath.
“I knew you were a talented fighter, but I didn’t know you were royalty. You’re so down to earth.” Zoey flashed Roman a teasing smirk. “King of Assholes, I think is your title.”
He stopped unpacking a carton of bottles. “You forgot to mention my incredible sense of humor. Why do people always forget the humor?”
“Is that what happened with the redhead? She didn’t appreciate Roman Steele’s comedic talents?”
Roman dropped another crate of bottles next to the first. “She wouldn’t recognize the difference between an aged lager and a golden ale if it were written out in bold letters on the damn bottle.”
“I don’t know the difference between an aged lager and a golden ale—although I could if the bottles were labeled.”
“You’re not applying to run a beer garden. It was evident in the first five minutes that she didn’t know a damn thing. Hell, five seconds. But she made sure to demand every weekend off so she could have a social life. And did I mention the free booze she thought she’d get?”
Liam poked his head around the corner and, seeing Zoey, came all the way inside. “Did Roman scare off another one?”
Zoey smirked. “If you mean a prospective manager, then yes.”
“I doubt she could even manage her own checkbook, much less an entire business,” Roman defended himself. “No, thank you. We need someone out front that’s competent and knows what the hell they’re doing.”
Liam snickered. “If you don’t give the Roman Stamp of Approval to someone, you’re going to be the one managing the business…which means no blow-things-up assignments for you. The big boys will be off playing and you’ll be stuck minding the home front.”
“Fuck-and-you, Liam,” Roman grumbled, but the twitch on his lips belied the lack of heat behind the words.
Zoey shook her head at the brothers’ bickering when Knox walked into the room. Their gazes immediately locked.
She didn’t know what to say, or why she came. After a doctor’s appointment, she usually headed home to bury her sorrow in a pint of chocolate fudge ice cream.
With how this one ended, she would’ve polished off the entire damn container and then gone to the store to buy another.
Knox ignored his brothers’ curious expressions. “Do you want to come upstairs? I have some paperwork that needs finishing, and Liam’s responsible for making sure Roman doesn’t scare away another prospective manager.”
“Too late for that,” Liam teased.
Roman released a string of colorful curses, and Knox chuckled. Palming the small of Zoey’s back, he gu
ided her up the stairs.
“So you have an office now?” Zoey glanced around on the way up in an attempt to distract herself, and grimaced. Her hopeful distraction ended up sounding simply hopeful.
He led her through an open doorway and closed the door behind them. “It’s Roman’s office, but they’ll all have Iron Bar offices on the third floor to be close to the distillery. The basement’s entirely Steele Ops. No merging of the two.”
Tan walls complemented the stark white molding. A massive bookshelf that covered one length of the wall and a desk tucked into the corner were both a rich, dark mahogany. It might have been Roman’s office, but it reminded her more of Knox.
Zoey expected him to sit, but he leaned his rear end against the desk and gestured for her to come closer. She wanted to. Her body practically propelled herself forward, but she veered left, opting for the plush leather couch positioned beneath the bay window.
Her doctor’s appointment messed with her emotions. All the uncertainty. The questions. The unknowns and the possibilities. Being that raw and vulnerable wasn’t a good thing when in close proximity to Knox. It made falling into his arms way too comfortable—and tempting.
Especially lately.
“What brings you out here today, angel?” Knox’s stance looked casual, but Zoey knew different. He waited. He observed. And the fact she’d shoved her glasses up her nose twice in less than a minute didn’t escape his notice.
“I haven’t been out here in a few days and I was curious to see how far you’d gotten. I’m guessing pretty far if you’re already hiring staff for the distillery.”
Knox folded his arms across his chest. “It’s pulling together a lot easier than I thought, which means the other shoe’s about to drop. Hopefully it’ll be on Liam’s head. I know Roman would like that scenario best.”
Zoey’s smile melted away as Knox’s gaze dropped to where her fingers fidgeted with her purse strap. She forced herself to stop.
Feeling ridiculous, she jumped to her feet and slinked toward the door. “I think I’m going to head out now. I’m not really looking for company. I’m not even sure why I came.”
“Zoey.” Knox pushed off the desk.
His slow, steady pace gave her more than enough time to make her escape. But her feet rooted themselves to the floor. Never once taking his eyes off her, he eased his arms around her waist and tucked her intimately against his chest.
“Talk to me. What’s wrong? You came here with a purpose. I can see it written all over your face.”
“Then maybe you can tell me what that is.”
He stared straight into her eyes with an intensity that nearly made her squirm. “You had a doctor’s appointment today, and I’m guessing you got news you didn’t want to hear.”
Zoey swallowed the lump from her dry throat and eased away from his arms. She immediately wanted to go back. “It wasn’t bad in the sense that I need to rush into surgery, but it wasn’t good either.”
“So it’s bad good news and not bad bad news?”
“Exactly.”
“Sweetheart, bad anything isn’t necessarily good.” Knox scrubbed a hand over his face. “Liam gave me a headache this morning, so my brain’s functioning on half power. You need to spell this out for me, angel.”
Zoey peered through the window that overlooked the beer garden. Right now, it was a sea of picnic tables and budding flower beds. In another week, the entire yard would be an oasis of flowers, food, and friends.
Realization dawned on Zoey.
That’s why she crossed the river.
She didn’t need sexy, orgasm proficient Knox. She didn’t need alpha, protective Knox.
She needed friend Knox.
She needed the Knox who listened and didn’t offer anecdotes. Who didn’t push or force her to meet his gaze so he could tell her everything would be fine—words that often came up seconds before people went into fix-it mode.
From behind, Knox’s arms wrapped around her waist. Resting his chin on the curve of her shoulder, he held her and gave her the chance to pull both her thoughts and herself together.
Zoey settled her hands over his and sunk into the embrace. “Even though I didn’t show any outward symptoms, my stress test didn’t produce stellar results. Dr. Samuel wants me to have a cardiac catheterization sometime within the next few weeks.”
His cheek brushed the side of her head. “You’ve had those before, right? They’ve become pretty routine.”
“They are, and he wouldn’t order one if it weren’t necessary. I hate this. All of it. I hate that I have to worry about any of it, that hospitals make me break out into hives, and that every time I leave the house, I have to make sure my meds are with me. And yes, I know I sound like a petulant child, but—”
“Hey.” Knox’s arms squeezed her in a gentle hug. “You’re far from petulant or a child. You’re an amazingly strong woman, and you’ll get through this like you’ve gotten through everything else that’s been tossed your way. With ease.”
“You think any of this has been easy?” Zoey turned around but was unable to meet his eyes until his finger cupped her chin.
“Not at all. You make it look easy. But have no fear. If you get stuck, I’m here to drag you out of the rough patch.”
Until he wasn’t.
The closer that Steele Ops got to opening its doors, the sooner he’d leave to start the next chapter in his life. Away from DC. Away from her. Relying on him when their time clock had already started its final countdown wasn’t smart.
But it didn’t change the fact that it felt good to voice her concerns and be heard. Knox listened, not diminishing her worries, and more importantly…
He didn’t try to solve them.
Zoey slid her hands up his chest and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what? I literally didn’t do a damn thing.”
“Exactly.”
Chuckling, Knox ran his hand up her back and into her hair. “I think that’s the first time I’ve been thanked for doing nothing.”
“You didn’t do nothing. You did everything.” She knew he didn’t get it. Not quite.
He tucked a callused palm against her cheek, the tender touch freezing her breath. “Whatever I did do or didn’t, I’m just happy that it put that look in your eye. And I hope I can keep it there.”
Knox dropped a feather-soft kiss to her lips.
There was no tongue-on-tongue-I-want-to-eat-you-alive devouring. No burning need to rip off each other’s clothes. Slow and gentle, the delicateness of their embrace reached deep into her core, affecting her more than any of their hottest, out-of-control kisses.
Zoey groaned in protest when he pulled his mouth from hers, failing to hide a dopey, happy smile. “Are you ever going to tell me where you got the nickname angel?”
His gaze locked onto her eyes in a deep, heated stare that left goose bumps on her arms. “Someday…when I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?”
He shrugged. “To let someone else in on my little secret.”
Secrets.
Standing in the middle of the Iron Bars offices, with Knox’s arms wrapped around her, Zoey realized that she had one whopper of a secret herself.
She was at least halfway to falling in love with him, and sinking deeper every day that they spent together.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Zoey stared into her nearly empty fridge, contemplating the fine dining option of ketchup and questionable fried chicken leftovers from the week before, or maybe it was two weeks ago. The dark speckles on the crispy coating could either be Italian seasoning or the cure for cancer.
At the queasy roll of her stomach, she pitched the entire package into the garbage and closed the fridge with a heavy sigh. “Well, now what are we going to do, Snuggles?”
A night home alone had sounded like heaven when she declined a movie date with Grace and opted for her fuzzy duck pajamas and slippers. Now she was bored. She contemplated calli
ng Knox to see what he was up to, but she was still a little off kilter from their earlier conversation at Iron Bars.
A little distance was probably best.
Snuggles sat in the living room, golden eyes locked on the air vent. As the furnace growled to life, his long hair wafted in the breeze. When it stopped, he pounced, claws scraping against the grates. He did it no fewer than three times before biting something off with his teeth and carrying it to his corner bed.
“If it’s edible, are you willing to share?” Zoey joked. She glanced back at the vent and squinted.
Bundled in a dark, plastic, snake-like shell, a group of frayed wires stuck out from the grate Snuggles had been playing with.
“Wires! Do not eat whatever you have!” Zoey wrestled Snuggles’s new toy from his paws and got swat at in the process. “Go ahead. Be grumpy. But I’m not letting you turn into Robo Cat.”
She inspected the plastic knob in the palm of her hand. See-through and no larger than her pinky nail, it almost looked like a button except there wasn’t a hole in which to pass any thread.
She took it to the grate and crouched, tugging on the remaining cord. It gave an inch and then something larger behind the vent smashed against the back side. Five minutes and four screws later, Zoey’s bad feeling turned into a strong roll of nausea.
A camera.
She’d seen the things on television. Heck, working in the lab, she’d downloaded the surveillance images taken from police versions of this very device. But she wasn’t under investigation, and no one had been in her apartment.
“Do not touch that thing,” Zoey scolded Snuggles as she left the remnants on the floor and searched for her cell.
She dialed the only person who’d been charged with turning her apartment into a fortress. Liam answered on the third ring.
“What’s up, Zo?” Loud music and banging sounded in the background. Roman’s distinct growl caused a loud bark of laughter. “Excuse my asshole brothers. They’re being particularly obnoxious. I’d say it was the paint fumes flying high here at Iron Bars, but they’re always like this.”
