Fight for Me

by Jessica Linden

  It made no sense. Her mother wasn’t a lazy woman, someone who would pass her responsibilities off to someone else. She’d always been very active in the family’s business affairs. In fact, it wasn’t until she died that her father started playing a large role.

  And this document was signed a week before her death.

  She couldn’t have known . . . or could she?

  Natalie paled. “It’s like my mother knew she was going to die.”

  “You said she died in a car accident, right?” Knox asked.

  Natalie nodded and scrolled a little farther in the document. “The board only takes effect in the event of her death . . .” She trailed off as waves of nausea hit. “There’s no way she could have known. It was an accident.”

  She rose and paced while Knox and Amelia looked on. “It was signed a week before she died. That has to be a coincidence, right? Right?”

  She knew she was getting a little hysterical, but she looked at Knox and Amelia, silently pleading for them to agree with her. When neither did, she sank onto the couch beside Knox and put her head in her hands.

  How could she have known? Was it somehow suicide? No, her mother never would have abandoned her like that. Anna Farrington didn’t have a selfish bone in her body.

  And she hadn’t been depressed. Looking back, Natalie realized she was unhappy, but surely she would have noticed if her mother was on the brink of suicide.

  That just wasn’t possible.

  Which left only one other option.

  She felt the bile rise in her throat just thinking about it. It was too horrible to be true.

  “Did you know about the board?” Amelia asked.

  Natalie picked her head up and shook it. “The lawyer didn’t say anything about it, so either he didn’t know about it, or he lied to me. I don’t know which.”

  “What are the terms of the original trust? The one the lawyer told you about.”

  “I have it here,” Natalie said, “but from what I recall, the basics are that I get an allowance every month, which is managed by my father. When I turn thirty, I inherit the full trust.”

  “Is that all?” Knox asked.

  Natalie pulled the computer closer. She wondered what else she hadn’t been told. “I think I better read the original document.”

  With the exception of the grandfather clock ticking away in the corner, the room was silent while she read.

  “Okay, originally, my mother had sole control of the Farrington fortune. When I turned thirty, I would control half of it. In the event of her death, the fortune would be frozen, with the exception of the monthly allowance, until I turn thirty. Then I would get all of it.”

  “Where would the money have gone in the event of your death?”

  “My father.”

  Knox looked at her grimly.

  “According to the new document,” Natalie continued, “if I die before I turn thirty, then the money is distributed to several charitable organizations. Besides the board, that’s the major change.” Natalie took a shaky breath. “The money disappears if I’m dead. So my father needs me alive.”

  It felt like a knife had stabbed her in the back and lodged itself in her heart. When that guard had said her father just needed her alive and didn’t care about her condition, she hadn’t taken it seriously.

  But now she knew her father wouldn’t care if she were brain dead, as long as her heart was still beating and her lungs were still breathing. Her stomach churned as she realized he might even prefer it that way.

  “What power does the board have?” Amelia asked.

  “It says they can change the terms of the trust with a majority vote.”

  Natalie’s mind was whirling. All this time, a nameless, faceless group of people had had the power to change her fate, and she hadn’t even known about it because she’d been too complacent.

  Never again. Never again would she be so naïve, so taken advantage of.

  “What does that mean for us?” Knox asked.

  Natalie pressed her lips into a thin line. “It means we’ll be staying on the north side for a while.”

  Natalie sat on the bed in the guest room, her knees drawn to her chest. The last two days had been the best and the worst of her life.

  Yesterday morning in the hotel room with Knox was . . . words just couldn’t describe it. Just thinking about the sensations he’d given her made her toes start to curl. She’d never felt so sensual, so desired, so alive.

  And to think—that was just the beginning.

  Despite being twenty-six, she had almost no experience with men. Life with her father hadn’t exactly allowed for romantic interludes. So she knew she was more than a little sheltered and naïve. But this thing between her and Knox was real. She knew that as surely as she knew the exact shade of his eyes—umber, like dark chocolate.

  As if her thoughts of him were a magnet, he opened the door slowly and entered the room, closing the door with a soft thud. He sat next to her, the bed shifting under his weight so that she naturally leaned into him. She went with it, resting her head on his shoulder.

  Thank God she wasn’t in this alone.

  They sat quietly for a moment before he broke the silence. “Are you okay?”

  “I . . .” She was about to give the standard response, I’m fine, but she wasn’t. And she didn’t want to lie to him. “I don’t know.”

  Knox shifted so that he was propped up on the headboard and pulled her against his chest. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the soft feel of his cotton T-shirt against her cheek and his scent—all male with a hint of the cucumber soap that had been in the shower. He was all hard lines and edges. She loved his body, ached to run her fingers over the ridges and valleys, to lose herself in him, if only for a little while.

  He put his hand over her hair and gently stroked, kissing her forehead.

  “I keep thinking about my mother’s death,” she said. “I was young, but I remember most of the details. It was late at night, and she was driving home from a charity committee meeting or something. She was in a midsize sedan, and a U-Haul truck ran a red light, slamming right into the driver’s side. She . . .” Her breath hitched. “She died on impact.”

  God, she could only hope that last part was true.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as painful images played through her mind. She hadn’t gone to the scene and hadn’t been allowed to see her mother’s body until the funeral, when she had looked exactly and nothing like herself. But she’d seen a picture of the wrecked, twisted pile of metal that was the car, and that was enough for her to imagine how mangled her mother’s body must have been.

  Knox said nothing, just continued to stroke her hair until she was ready to speak again.

  “They never found the driver. The truck was abandoned a mile away. It had been stolen from the lot. The police suspected teenagers had taken it for a joyride, then fled after the accident. I don’t know, though. If that were the case, wouldn’t there be fingerprints?”

  “Probably,” Knox agreed. “I doubt a group of teenagers would know enough to wipe down the vehicle. And a U-Haul isn’t exactly a top choice for a joyride.”

  “I never really thought about it before because I was too caught up in the fact that my mother was dead, but now . . . something just doesn’t seem right.” Natalie sat up and looked Knox in the eye. She wanted to see his reaction to her question. “Do you think my father could have arranged to have my mother killed?”

  Knox’s gaze remained cool. His eyes didn’t widen, his pupils didn’t dilate. He wasn’t surprised by her question at all, and that was her answer.

  She felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

  “Why? Why would he do that? She’d already changed the terms of the trust by then.”

  “He clearly didn’t know about it.”

  Natalie’s chin trembled, the thought that her mother was murdered for money too much to bear. Could it be true? The circumstantial evidence was all there, and she had
no compelling reason to leap to her father’s defense, especially after recent events.

  She hadn’t looked at the accident clearly at the time, but she’d only been eleven. Now, she could easily see how suspicious the circumstances were. Why didn’t the cops take notice and investigate?

  Maybe Knox and Amelia were right. Maybe you couldn’t trust anyone in this town.

  She hated to believe that. There were good, kind people out there. Her mother had been one of them. Amelia was one of them.

  She wanted to think she was one of them.

  But it seemed they were outnumbered. Or overpowered, at least.

  The bed shifted as Knox moved to the foot and pulled her leg away from her body. She opened her eyes and watched as he began kneading her calf. Her muscles practically sighed with pleasure. She was in shape, but her body had taken a beating these past few days.

  “It’ll feel better if you take your pants off.” Knox’s gaze was intense, and she cracked a small smile.

  He let out a little laugh—a rare sound that was music to her ears. “That sounded like a lame pickup line.”

  Her smile broadened. “It did.”

  She shimmied out of her jeans and tossed them aside while Knox stepped into the adjoining bathroom for a minute. He emerged with a bottle of lotion, which he squeezed into his hands.

  He rubbed the lotion into her calves and feet, her muscles gradually relaxing and giving up the tension they’d been holding. And although the massage couldn’t completely relieve the tension in her mind, it definitely helped.

  Knox kneaded a particularly tight spot on her foot, and she closed her eyes.

  “That . . . feels . . . so . . . good.” She practically purred the words. “How do you know how to do this?”

  “After a fight, it was either live with the cramping muscles or learn to massage them.” He gave a wry smile. “So I’m only good for legs and feet. That’s all I could reach on myself.”

  “Women would pay good money to get your hands on them.”

  His eyes darkened, and he brought his lips to the inside of her ankle. He worked his way up her leg, the stubble on his cheeks prickling her skin. He spent a few extra torturous seconds at her inner thigh, leaving it quivering. He skipped over her clothed belly and went straight to her neck, trailing lazy kisses in the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  “I don’t want my hands on other women,” he whispered. “I only want you.”

  “Then take me.”

  He pulled back and looked into her eyes. She could tell by the torn look in his eyes that he was at war with himself.

  So she would just have to help decide the victory.

  She reached down to his belt buckle and undid it and the button beneath. Slowly, keeping her eyes on his, she lowered the zipper and reached her hand inside. When her hand made contact with his hard flesh, his pupils dilated. He closed his eyes, then tried to shift away. She didn’t let go of him and grabbed his arm with her other hand.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” she said. “I’m not going to regret this. I know what I’m getting into. I want you, Knox. I want all of you.”

  She started to move her hand on him, swallowing the embarrassment of her inexperience. She’d never pleasured a man and had no clue if she was doing it right.

  But she knew that she was enjoying exploring his body. A fire started to burn inside her, and she hoped he felt it, too.

  When his breath hitched, she smiled.

  With a growl, he pulled her hand out of his pants and quickly yanked her shirt over her head. He dragged down the fabric of her bra and put his warm mouth on her nipple. She gasped and arched her back, reaching down to put her hands on him again.

  His mouth found hers, and his fingers found her clit. It was already throbbing and she moaned at his touch.

  This was what she wanted—no, needed.

  Suddenly, she was no longer embarrassed by her inexperience. She was glad her firsts would be with Knox.

  Abruptly, he pulled away, and her eyes sprang open in shock. She relaxed when he stripped his shirt and jeans off, leaving only his boxer briefs. For the brief moment before he returned to her, she admired his body—the tightness of his pecs, the bulge of his biceps, the sleek muscles that ran down into his briefs. His skin was marred with scars and the overbearing X tattoo, but they just made him even more beautiful.

  This was a warrior’s body.

  Tenderly, he brushed her hair back from her forehead and kissed her softly. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

  She laid her hand on his cheek. “Knox, I’m sure.”

  He pulled his wallet out of his abandoned jeans and retrieved a foil-wrapped condom. She eyed it with trepidation, nerves and butterflies forming in her stomach. When she returned her gaze to his, though, the butterflies flew away.

  With so much uncertainty in her world, this was one thing she was certain of.

  He leaned down to kiss her as he lowered her panties, slipping them off. Their recent urgency was replaced by a tender slowness.

  But the heat remained.

  His fingertips ran the length of her body, lingering at her hip, then lightly pressing on her inner knee until she opened them for him. He settled between her legs, still content to take things slow.

  And she loved him for it. Since the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, he’d done nothing but put her first.

  He pressed against her center, and she breathed deeply and tensed. He went no further, just continued kissing her to allow her time to get used to the sensation of his body between her legs, against the most intimate part of her.

  He reached his hand down between their bodies to rub her clit.

  So good. It felt so good. How could anything feel better than this?

  Her hips instinctively began to rock against him as the heat continued to build inside her.

  He brought his hand up and cradled her head as she continued to move against him. Each arc of her hips made the pressure of him against her more gloriously intense until she took him in.

  She gasped and her eyes opened wide, meeting his. There was raw tenderness in his gaze, but also a question. She raised her lips to his and ran her hands down his back, her answer to his question.

  She shifted her hips to open fully for him, and he accepted the invitation, slowly pushing into her. When he was all the way inside, he paused.

  She kissed him, sucking lightly on his lower lip, before resting her forehead on his and nodding. She was ready. She’d been waiting for him her whole life.

  He set the pace slowly at first, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of their bodies working together. She shifted a little, bringing her knees closer to her chest, and he groaned, immediately increasing the pace.

  She took that as a good sign and shifted more. His breathing became shallow and the pace increased yet again.

  She pressed her face into his shoulder, riding the wave of pulses shooting through her, releasing a muffled cry into his skin.

  As his body went rigid, he brought his lips to hers.

  After dealing with the condom, Knox returned to bed and wrapped Natalie in his arms. There was an unusual feeling in his stomach. It took him a minute to realize it was nerves.

  Aw, hell. He was nervous about Natalie’s reaction to their having sex.

  Except that wasn’t what it was. The realization slammed into him as hard as any hit he’d taken in the cage.

  He’d been with his fair share of women, but he’d never made love before.

  Because that’s what it was—not fucking, not having sex. Making love.

  It was a first for him.

  She snuggled her face into his chest and let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a purr. A smile played at the edges of his lips as he kissed her forehead.

  That was exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for.

  He’d been Natalie’s first, and he’d wanted it to be a good experience for her. No matter how many men she was with after
him, she would always remember.

  A pang shot through his gut, replacing the nerves, and he tightened his arms around her. He didn’t want there to be any other men for her.

  But that was ridiculous. She was high society and he was nothing more than a common street thug. Sure, they were in this thing together, but it would end eventually. And when it did, what then? Would she take him to her garden parties?

  The image of himself rubbing elbows with the elite of the city ran through his mind and he almost snorted. Yeah, right. That would never happen. Natalie might accept him, but they never would.

  He ran his fingers along her spine and down to her ass cheeks, and she arched her back, pressing her warm body closer to his.

  She was his. That was all he knew. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or the next day, but he knew that she belonged with him. Someway, somehow, she did.

  And he belonged with her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She tilted her head back so she could look in his eyes. “I’m more than okay. Are you okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m okay.” He suddenly turned shy. “I was just asking because . . . you know . . .”

  “Because I was a virgin?”

  If he didn’t know better, he thought he felt a blush creeping onto his cheeks. God, she undid him.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, yeah.”

  “I appreciate your concern.” She paused to kiss him. “And I’m fine. I’m also glad that I’m not a virgin anymore.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  “Yes. Now the next time we do this, you don’t have to worry.”

  He was totally fucking undone.

  Chapter 8

  Natalie selected a donut out of the box sitting on the kitchen counter. “Thanks, Amelia. You really didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m just using you as an excuse to break my diet.” Amelia licked her fingers.

  “Either way, thank you.”

  Natalie opened the laptop at the kitchen table, wanting to take another look at the documents they’d found yesterday. Though she’d read them thoroughly not once, not twice, but three times already, it didn’t hurt to quadruple check.