Things We Hide from the Light (Knockemout Series, 2)

Naomi: Emergency meeting of the wedding brain trust. Can everyone make it to Waylay’s soccer game tomorrow morning?

Stef: Why can’t she play an evening sport? These early-morning Saturdays are messing with my Friday night social life.

Naomi: What social life? You still haven’t asked Jer out yet. *chicken emoji*

Stef: Nobody likes a bridezilla, Witty.

Sloane: I can make it as long as we’re hiding Bloody Marys in our cups.

Me: Sorry guys. I can’t make it.

Naomi: *frowny face* Lina, you were too busy for lunch and you backed out of bridesmaid dress shopping this week. I’m afraid I have to enforce my bridal reign and insist that you join us…unless you really are doing something more important than discussing wedding party attire and traditional wedding cake versus a pastry table. Then I totally understand and you should forget that I tried to make any demands on you.

Stef: Forgive Witty. She’s been honored with a lifetime achievement award in people-pleasing.

Sloane: Can confirm that Lina did not have plans for Saturday morning as of last night when we picked up our Dino’s to-go orders at the same time.

Naomi: It’s official. Lina’s avoiding us.

Stef: Let’s kidnap her and find out why. Wait. Too soon for kidnapping jokes?

Me: Oh, THIS Saturday. I thought you meant some other Saturday. Who else is going?

Sloane: I second this question. I’m tired of showing up to places and running into Tall Dark and Pissy.

Stef: She means Sinful Suit Daddy.

Naomi: My parents, Liza J, and Knox will all be there. No other family members or friends are on the agenda.

Me: I guess I can make it. As long as you weren’t kidding about the Bloody Marys.

“These leaves,” my dad’s voice boomed through the speakers of my SUV. “Never seen so many colors before. You should fly up for the weekend and check ’em out.”

I made the turn into the gravel parking lot of the soccer fields and inched my way through throngs of players and families.

“Fall is in full swing here too,” I told him. “You’ll never guess what I’m doing right now.”

“Winning an award at work? No, wait. Taking ballroom dance lessons? Oh! I know, eating sushi while booking a plane ticket home to surprise me for my birthday?”

I winced. “Good guesses, but no. I’m going to a kid’s soccer game.”

“No kidding?”

“Bet you don’t miss those early Saturday mornings in the cold,” I said lightly. I watched a family of five, bundled up in layers of clothing, jog toward the fields.

Dad had always loved soccer. He’d lobbied a local sports bar in our neighborhood to air UK football matches long before David Beckham had set one golden boot in America. His love of the game was the reason I’d started playing as a kid. We’d drilled for hours in the backyard. He’d known every one of my teammates by name and was the team dad who made sure everyone got home safely from games and practices.

After the “incident,” we’d all been affected in different ways.

Mom fluttered around me convinced I was one heartbeat away from death.

My return to “normal” had taken long enough I no longer had a place to belong to. So I’d focused all my energy on catching up academically with the aim of starting over someplace new.

As for my dad, I’d never seen him watch another soccer game.

“Apparently social occasions here are often paired with children’s sporting events. My friend Knox asked me to be in his wedding, and I’m meeting with the bride to talk cake on the sidelines.”

“A wedding? How long are you planning to stay there?”

“I’m not sure. This project work has me on is really dragging out.”

“Well, if you can’t come to us, we can always come to you.”

“Everything is up in the air at the moment, but I might be heading home soon. I’ll let you know.”

“You doing okay? You sound a little down.”

“I’m fine,” I told him, unwilling to do a deep dive into why I’d spent the last several days swinging back and forth between mad and sad. “I’ve got to get going. It looks like the game’s about to start.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Oh, and one more thing. Your mom would kill me if I didn’t ask. Everything good with the ticker?”

“Everything is fine,” I said, forcing my exasperation into the box with my mad and sad.

Just a few emotional dings from a wounded, pissed-off officer of the law.

“I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Leens.”

I disconnected the call and slumped back on my heated seat. I’d preemptively called him to get it out of the way for the day. It was a constant balancing act of assuring my parents that I was alive and capable of taking care of myself while still giving myself the actual freedom to be an independent adult.

Having overly loving parents wasn’t something that I could take for granted, but it also wasn’t something I was thrilled about.

Reluctantly, I got out of the car and headed in the direction of the field, scanning the crowd for the man I hoped I’d never see again.

I’d successfully avoided Nash since he’d threatened to arrest me. My research team was running down Hugo’s known associates and keeping an eye on vintage car auctions. I was still crossing properties off my list. In my downtime, I managed to survive another workout with Mrs. Tweedy and consulted on two other investigations at work.

Something needed to break and it needed to break soon or else I was going to have to do something I’d never done before: quit.

I found Naomi and Sloane in folding camp chairs under blankets on the sideline.

“There she is,” Naomi said when I approached. She was holding a huge coffee in one hand and an innocuous-looking tumbler in the other. “We brought you a chair.”

“And alcohol,” Sloane said, holding up a short red tumbler for me.

“Thanks.” I took the offered drink and the chair. “Where’s Stef?”

“He’s getting, and I quote, ‘all the coffee in the world.’ He had a conference call with investors in Hong Kong about who knows what,” Naomi said.

“What does Stef do for a living?” I asked, studying the crowd. Naomi’s dad and Knox stood next to Wraith, a scary biker dude and dubious choice for a girls’ soccer coach. The only tattoos visible on the silver fox today were poking out of the neck of his leather jacket. He stood on the sidelines, legs braced apart like he was ready to battle it out with a rival motorcycle club.

Knox, I noted, didn’t bother to say hi. He merely glared at me before looking away.

Stupid Nash and his big, stupid mouth.

“No one really knows. He’s like Chandler from Friends,” Naomi said.

Sloane studied me from under her pom-pomed hat. It was black to match her mittens. “You always look like a badass video game heroine ready to kick down a door or grab a sexy gun-toting guy and bang him into oblivion.”

Naomi sprayed a fine mist of coffee into the chilly air while I laughed.

“Uh, thanks? I think.”

“Tell her about the dress,” Sloane insisted.

“We put you in scarlet,” Naomi told me. “It’s very bombshell.”

“You’ll definitely get laid at the wedding in it,” Sloane insisted.

“Is everything okay with you?” I asked her.

The librarian groaned dramatically and threw her head back. Which gave me an unobstructed view of Lucian Rollins approaching from behind her. His cashmere coat flapped in the wind like some kind of vampire cape. His gaze wasn’t friendly. Especially not when it landed on me.

“Ugh. I need sex,” Sloane announced, unaware that her nemesis was nearly within earshot. “Everywhere I look, I see potential sex. Naomi has this annoying, permanent orgasmic glow, and you look like you could walk into any room and leave with a guy in under five minutes.”

“Then why aren’t you hate-banging him?” I pointed and we all turned to stare at Lucian, who looked like a model in jeans, a sweater, and a ball cap.

“Damn it! Naomi, you said he wasn’t coming!” Sloane hissed.

“He didn’t tell me he was. I have no idea why he’s here,” she insisted.

“The man spends so much time next door and around town I’m starting to doubt that he has an actual job,” Sloane complained.

“Next door?” I asked.

“Apparently Sloane and Lucian grew up next door to each other. Sloane bought her house from her parents when they moved, and Lucian kept his mom’s place,” Naomi explained.

“God knows why,” Sloane muttered.

“Maybe he’s here to have sex with you. Like some kind of dark sexy fairy granting dirty wishes,” I teased.

I noticed Knox didn’t bother greeting Lucian when he joined him. Looked like the pissed-off-ness was contagious.

“I’d rather go to the gynecologist and the dentist on the same day,” Sloane said. “Besides, I have a date.”

“You have a date?” Naomi shouted the question loud enough that all the men turned and stared at us.

Lucian looked like he was about to set the world on fire with his dark smolder.

“Thanks, mega mouth,” Sloane muttered. “Yes. I have a date.”

“A date or a hookup?” I asked at normal volume.

Lucian’s hand closed into a fist, crushing his to-go cup and exploding coffee everywhere.

I grinned as he settled that dark and dangerous gaze on me. Oops, I mouthed smugly.

“Nothing to see here,” Naomi said, making shooing motions with her hands. At least that was what I think she was trying to do. It was hard to tell with her double-fisting beverages. “Go about your business, gentlemen.”

Knox shot his fiancée a wicked wink, then gave me a chilly look before turning his attention back to the field where the team was warming up.

“Uh, what’s up with the silent treatment and steely stares?” Sloane asked.

“You’re just trying to change the subject. Who are you hooking up with?”

Sloane looked over both shoulders and then gestured for us to lean closer. When we’d formed a vodka-breathed huddle, she cracked a smile. “I’ll give you a hint. He’s got a mustache and a badge.”

“You’re going out with Nolan? Nolan Graham? U.S. Marshal Nolan Graham?” I demanded.

“He’s really cute,” Naomi said.

“He’s a great guy,” I added.

“You two dated, right? Any red flags I need to know about before letting him go for the gold after the third date?” Sloane asked me.

“We had a very brief fling a few years back. He’s a genuinely nice guy and he’s a good dancer.”

“Maybe he’ll be my date to the wedding,” Sloane mused.

The men were staring at us again. Make that glaring. Lucian looked like he couldn’t decide if he hated me or Sloane more. Knox’s expression was best described as resting pissed face.

“Okay, I get that Sloane and Lucian have this hate fest going on, but what’s with you and Knox?” Naomi asked, frowning at her husband. “He didn’t say something mean and offensive to you, did he? He’s supposed to be trying to get better at that.”

I looked down at my drink. “As far as I know, everything is fine.”

“Oh, look. Here comes Nash. I thought he had to work.”

I nearly fell out of my chair and spilled my Bloody Mary whipping my head around.

“Damn it,” I muttered and slumped lower in the chair when I spotted him. He was dressed in his uniform, towing Piper on a pink leash, and looking even more furious than Knox and Lucian combined. Nolan strolled along a few yards behind him, his phone to his ear.

“Ladies,” Nash growled. His gaze landed on me and I made zero attempt to cover the fury he inspired in me.

“Morning, Nash,” Naomi chirped.

“Hey, Chief,” Sloane said.

“Thought I told you not to come around my family,” Nash said to me.

Oh, goody. We were gonna go there. In public. With witnesses.

“I’d think long and hard about starting that conversation right now. Unless of course you want to air all the dirty laundry,” I said, firing poisoned eyeball daggers at him.

Everyone stared at us as if Nash and I had just turned into a live-action telenovela in front of them.

“I said leave her alone, not be a dick to her,” Knox snapped.

“I don’t need you to defend me. Especially when you’re not even speaking to me,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need an explanation immediately,” Sloane said.

“I’m glad you came to your senses,” Lucian said to Nash.

“Fuck off, Lucy,” Nash snarled. “And fuck you too, Knox.”

Amanda sidled over. “I smell drama. What’s happening?”

“Everyone is mad at everyone else,” Sloane said. “Will someone please explain what crawled up y’all’s butts so I can choose a side? Spoiler alert: Team Not Lucian.”

Lucian turned his steely eyed gaze on her. “I don’t have the energy for you today, Sloane.”

Naomi put her hand out to keep Sloane from launching herself out of her chair. “Listen, I can only handle one pair of feuding friends at a time.” She turned to me. “What’s going on with you and Nash? And you and Knox. And Lucian and, well, everyone.”

They all turned to look at me. The women eyed me expectantly. The men looked at me with varying degrees of scowling faces. One of the team moms was aiming her phone in our direction, probably recording the whole thing.

Stef chose that moment to wander up with a coffee cup the size of a bucket. He stopped short when he sensed the standoff. “What’d I miss?”

“Lina’s been lying to everyone,” Nash announced.

It was go time. I was really good at go time. I wasn’t one of those people who came up with their best zingers in the shower days after a confrontation. I was someone who fired back hard.

The only problem was, I didn’t feel good about deploying his secret. Nash might be acting like a gigantic asshole, but I’d seen real pain beneath the surface, and I couldn’t in good conscience break that trust. Unless of course he pushed me too far, in which case he only had himself to blame.

Naomi put one of her drinks down and reached over to squeeze my wrist. “If Lina’s been less than truthful, then I’m guessing it’s because she has a good reason for it.”

It was such a Naomi thing to say. And she meant it. At least right now, before she heard the truth. But if anyone was going to share my truth, it should be me.

“I’m here looking for Duncan Hugo,” I said.

Naomi’s mom, Amanda, gasped theatrically. Knox’s nostrils flared as he swore under his breath. Lucian, of course, showed no outward reaction.

Sloane was the first to recover. “Why? What are you into, Lina?”

“It’s work. I don’t sell insurance. I recover stolen assets. Hugo stole something from a client and I tracked him to the area, not knowing that he was also wrapped up in other situations. I came to town just to see Knox for a day. But then everything happened.”

“What did he steal?” Amanda asked. “I bet it was jewels. Was it jewels?”

“It was a car,” I admitted.

“What kind of car?” Knox wanted to know.

“A 1948 Porsche 356 convertible.”

He let out a low whistle. “Nice ride.”

“She lied to all of us,” Nash said, his words striking like a hammer. “She got you to put her up next door to me so she could get access to me and my files.”

I could feel the adrenaline dumping into my system. My heart immediately fluttered over a beat, then another one. I brought the heel of my hand to my sternum and willed myself not to open my mouth to release the torrent of insults clogging my throat.

“What the fuck?” Knox said.

I braced for the end of my longest-running friendship. But he was looking at his brother.

“She didn’t make me put her up in that apartment. I swung by the motel to pick her up for breakfast and found her hair spraying a roach the size of a fuckin’ beaver,” he continued. “I told her to pack her shit and she refused. We yelled at each other for a good half an hour while stompin’ on a multigenerational roach fest before she agreed to move.”

“Time out,” Naomi said to her soon-to-be husband. “Viking, if that’s not why you’re mad at Nash and Lina, what got your boxer briefs in a twist?”

Knox smoothed a hand over her hair, the gentle gesture at odds with his stormy expression.

“I’m pissed because these two idiots didn’t listen to the sense I was talkin’.”

I took three healthy gulps of my Bloody Mary and began to plot my escape.

“What sense?” Stef asked, pulling up a chair and setting it as close to the action as possible.

“Seriously? Come on!” Knox gestured back and forth between me and Nash.

“You’re gonna have to be more communicative than that, dear,” Amanda told him.

“For fuck’s sake. They can’t get together.” He pointed at Nash. “This idiot practically has ‘put a fuckin’ ring on it’ tattooed on his fucking ass.” Then he jerked his chin in my direction. “And that pain in the ass has ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ tattooed on hers.”

Naomi leaned in and whispered, “Is he being literal or metaphorical?”

“Metaphorical. But I do have a sun tattooed on my shoulder blade.”

Nash’s eyes narrowed on me.

“They get together and it’s time for her to go, he’s gonna get his stupid heart broken and she’s gonna feel bad about it. Then they’ll both end up taking it out on me. So I told Nash to leave it be and then I find out he’s climbing into bed with her.”

“Everyone is having sex but me,” Sloane muttered under her breath.

“Now things are getting good,” Amanda said. She held out a hand to Stef.

“Agreed,” he said, handing over his Bloody Mary.

“We weren’t having sex and we definitely never will. You could have talked to me about it,” I said to Knox.

He grimaced as if I’d just suggested he rip his toenails out and throw them around like confetti.

“Yeah, right, Leen,” he scoffed. “Then we could have a heart-to-heart about our feelings and shit.”

He had a point.

“Bad time?” Nolan wandered up in a windbreaker, holding a normal-sized coffee.

“Yes,” Nash and I said in unison, which resulted in more glaring at each other.

He winked at Sloane. “Hey, cupcake. Looking forward to dinner.”

The librarian gave him a flirty grin. Lucian growled.

“So if Lina and Nash aren’t”—Naomi paused as part of Waylay’s team jogged past the sidelines—“enjoying adult tickle time, which we are definitely going to revisit, by the way, why are you still mad at them?”

“Because he’s acting like it’s none of my business and she wasn’t being honest with me. You coulda told me why you were here,” Knox said to me.

I nodded. “I could have. Probably should have. Opening up doesn’t come easy,” I admitted.

“Sure don’t mind when you’re on the receiving end,” Nash said.

“Keep pushing, Chief. They still haven’t dug deep enough on you yet,” I warned.

His glare would have incinerated me if I’d used more hair spray that morning.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Sloane asked in a stage whisper.

“Hold on. We’re not done yet. We haven’t gotten to why Suit Daddy, I mean Lucian, is involved in such immature, emotional shenanigans,” Stef pointed out.

“Come on in, Lucian. The water’s warm,” I said to him.

“Well, now you have to,” Naomi said encouragingly.

“I knew there was something off with Lina’s story. And when Knox voiced his concerns about her, I did some digging. Then I tracked her down and threatened her.”

He said it as casually as someone describing an amusing encounter at Target.

“Unbelievable,” Sloane muttered under her breath.

“Lucian, that’s not how we solve things,” Amanda chided like he was a six-year-old mid temper tantrum.

“So Lucian was technically right and you’re still mad at him?” Naomi asked.

Nash’s answer was an irritated shrug.

She turned to Knox. “And you were right about Nash getting hurt and now you’re both mad at each other for that.”

“Well, breakfast didn’t help,” Knox admitted.

Naomi closed her eyes. “Is that why you were such a bridezilla with the florist yesterday?”

“Baby’s breath is stupid. Fight me,” he said.

“What happened at breakfast?” Stef asked.

“I invited Knox and Nash to breakfast to talk things out like mature adults,” Lucian explained.

“You showed up unannounced and dragged me out of bed at six in the morning,” Nash corrected.

“You’re welcome,” he shot back.

“Wait,” Sloane interrupted. “You, Lucian Rollins, willingly tried to talk things out?”

His gaze was icy when it locked on to her. “I do when it’s something that matters.”

She got to her feet, vibrating so hard the pom-pom on her hat trembled. “You are the worst person I’ve ever met,” she hissed. Sloane was usually much sharper with her insults.

Sensing impending violence, I jumped out of my chair and stepped between them before Sloane could charge. “He’s got a lot of lawyers,” I reminded her. “And as satisfying as it would be to punch the smirk off his face, I’d hate to see his legal team bankrupt you.”

Sloane growled. Lucian showed his teeth in what was definitely not a smile.

“A little help here, Marshal?”

Nolan looped an arm around Sloane’s waist and pulled her back. “How do you feel about standing all the way over here?” he asked her conversationally.

Lucian let out what sounded like a feral snarl and slammed his chest into my waiting hand. Even after I dug my heels in, he still managed to move me back nearly a foot before Nash pushed his way between us.

“Back the fuck off,” Nash snapped, getting into Lucian’s face.

“We’re about to get thrown out of a kids’ soccer game,” I said to no one in particular.

“So how was the sex?” Stef asked me with a wicked grin.

“For the love of God! We didn’t have sex. We never even kissed,” I snapped.

“So you were just sleeping together?” Amanda asked. “Is that a new thing with you youngsters? Friends with partial benefits? Netflix and cuddle?”

“Definitely not friends,” I said, glaring at Nash. “And unlike some others, I respect people’s privacy, especially when it comes to things they’ve shared in confidence.”

Damn, it felt good to take the high road. Especially knowing Nash’s family was about to pry the truth out of him with a crowbar. That made it even more satisfying.

A barrage of questions was immediately volleyed at the man.

“You seriously just slept? What’s up with that?”

“Does this have somethin’ to do with you bein’ depressed?”

“You’re depressed? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Was it naked sleeping or were there pajamas?”

“Excuse me, people!”

Everyone turned to find Waylay standing on the sidelines, hands on hips. Her team was lined up behind her, trying and mostly failing to stifle giggles.

“We’re tryin’ to play a game out here but you guys are distracting everyone!” she said.

We all managed to mumble a chorus of apologies.

“If I have to come over here again, you’re all in trouble,” Waylay said, making eye contact with each of us.

“Jeez, when did she get scary?” Sloane whispered when Waylay and the rest of the team returned to the field.

“I blame you,” Knox and Naomi said at the same time. They grinned at each other.

My heart tripped unevenly again and I took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly until the fluttering in my chest dissipated.

“You okay?” Nash asked, not sounding like he cared that much. “Or was that a lie too?”

“Don’t. Start,” I warned him.

“What’s happening now?” Naomi whispered.

I needed to get out of here. I needed to go someplace where I could breathe and think and not want to punch stupid sexy men in their stupid sexy faces. I needed to call my boss and quit this investigation. Not only was I basically compromised, the thought of sticking around Knockemout, now just another place I didn’t belong, actually hurt.

“Sit down, Angelina,” Nash ordered. He was still pissed, but his tone was a degree or two gentler.

“What’s wrong?” Knox demanded.

“I’m sure Nash will be happy to fill you in,” I said, then turned to Naomi and Sloane. “You two have been nothing but wonderful since I got here and I’ll always be grateful for that. You deserve better from me and for that I’m sorry. Thank you for the friendship and good luck with the wedding.” I handed Sloane my Bloody Mary.

My heart tripped again and then again. My vision went spotty for the moment it took to resume a normal beat.

No more caffeine. Or red meat. Or man-induced stress, I promised myself. I’d open my meditation app and do yoga after every run. I would practice breathing exercises every hour on the hour and take nature walks. I would get the hell out of Knockemout and never look back.

I didn’t trust myself to say a more official goodbye, so I just started walking toward the parking lot.

“Lina,” Nash called after me. Not Angelina. Not Angel. Now it was just Lina.

I ignored him. The sooner I forgot Nash Morgan existed, the better.

I increased my speed and cut across a now empty soccer field. I didn’t quite make it to half field before a hand closed around my elbow.

“Lina, stop,” Nash ordered.

I jerked free. “We have nothing left to say to each other and we have no reason left to concern ourselves with each other.”

“Your heart—”

“Is none of your damn business,” I hissed.

A series of flutters had my vision going dark around the edges and I willed myself not to let it show.

“Okay. I’m inserting myself in here with great reluctance,” Nolan said, jogging up.

“Butt out, Graham,” Nash snapped.

Nolan took off his sunglasses. “My job is to protect you, dumbass. And you are one point five seconds away from having your face punched in by a very angry woman.”

“I’m not letting you get behind the wheel if you’re not okay,” Nash said to me, ignoring the U.S. marshal standing between us.

“I’ve never been better,” I lied.

He tried to take another step toward me, but Nolan put a hand to his chest.

I turned and headed for the parking lot. I was halfway to my car when I felt attention on me. I spotted a guy with a mustache and a KPD ball cap leaning against a set of bleachers, arms crossed, mean in his eyes.