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

He was a big, sweaty guy who had clearly had more than his fair share of beer. He also didn’t look like the type to crack a book, and I was willing to bet he’d crashed this party.

I pushed my way through the crowd.

“I said, back off,” Sloane growled as I arrived at her side.

“Now where you runnin’ off to, darlin’?” the big man said, flashing a grin with a gold canine tooth. He tried to perform some kind of dance step but only succeeded in twisting Sloane’s arm and knocking the glasses off her face.

“That’s it. Take a hike, micro penis,” I snapped, inserting myself between them and breaking his hold on Sloane’s arm.

His attention zeroed in on me. “Why don’t you give yourself a feel, sweetheart,” he slurred. He grabbed my wrist with a stinging grip and stupidly yanked it toward his crotch.

“I wouldn’t do that unless you’ve got enough sick leave saved up for a testicle retrieval operation,” I said, fighting the downward trajectory.

“Woooo wee! I like ’em spirited,” Drunky McBad Choice said, twisting my wrist painfully and leaving himself wide open. “Who are you supposed to be?”

I closed my free hand into a fist. “Get a clue,” I said, winding up. But instead of the satisfying connection of knuckle to face I expected, I found myself freed from his grip and airborne thanks to the strong arm that snaked around my waist.

“Hey!” I yelped.

“Hold her,” came the terse command as Chief Nash Morgan handed me off to his brother.

“Let me go!” I demanded, fighting against Knox’s grip.

In my rage, I noticed that Lucian had Sloane in a similar hold. The man was shooting daggers of the eyeball variety at Biker Big Mistake.

“You got this?” Knox asked Nash as he locked my arms at my sides before I could jump back into the fight. The Morgans were stubborn and strong.

“I got this.”

The steel in Nash’s voice, the arctic chill in his blue eyes had me going still. I’d never seen him so furious.

Hurt? Yep.

Amused? Sure.

Charming? Absolutely.

Stupidly stubborn? A thousand times yes.

But the icy mask of rage he wore now was something new.

There was definitely something wrong with me because that one look at his face made me hot. Like hand-a-girl-a-fresh-pair-of-underwear hot.

I gave one last flail, but Knox’s grip was unbreakable.

“I wanted to punch him,” I whined.

“Get in line, Leens,” Knox said.

There was a line, I realized. Nash was at the head, Nolan next with Lucian—still holding Sloane—at his back. Knox and I brought up the rear.

“You’re under arrest.” Nash’s voice rang with authority.

“Arrest? Me punching him would have been a hell of a lot more satisfying,” I complained.

“Be patient,” Knox said.

Sloane struggled against Lucian’s grip. “If you don’t get your hands off me, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Lucian interrupted her. “Kick me in the ankle and call me names?”

She growled in response.

“Maybe hand Sloane off to Graham?” Knox suggested belatedly.

“No,” Lucian said, his voice colder than an iceberg.

“You can’t arrest me! I ain’t done nothin’,” Booze Breath whined.

Naomi appeared next to us, a bag of popcorn in hand. “I think you can let her go now, Viking,” she said.

“Daisy, I know you think that. But this ain’t my first rodeo with Bar Fight Lina. I let her go and she’s gonna start breakin’ faces.”

“Oh come on! One time,” I spat, renewing my struggles.

“Two times,” he argued, locking his arms tighter around me. “You’re forgetting that asshole’s nose in Pittsburgh.”

I got enough room to elbow him in the gut. Unfortunately his rock-hard abs did more damage to my elbow than vice versa. What was it with the men in this town and their muscles? “Ouch! Damn it! You’re the one who threw him through a window.”

“Calm the fuck down, Lina,” he growled.

“Honey, you do know that doesn’t work on women, right?” Naomi said, scooping up a handful of popcorn.

“Knox, if you don’t let me go, I’m going to start with your face,” I warned.

“You put your hands on two women who made it clear they didn’t want them there,” Nash was saying to the unpunched face of the biker. “You’re under arrest.”

“What seems to be the problem here?”

“Fuck,” Knox muttered as Tate Dilton strolled into the situation.

“Yeah, you’re gonna want to let me go now,” I hissed.

“I got this,” Nolan said over his shoulder.

“This has nothing to do with you, Dilton,” Nash said, his voice snapping with authority.

Dilton sneered. “Looks to me like you’re abusin’ your power. Someone’s gotta stand up for what’s right.”

“You sure you know what that looks like?” Nash asked.

“Here we go,” Knox muttered. He lifted me off my feet and handed me to Harvey, the gigantic biker with arms the size of my head. “Hold this.”

“Sure thing, Knox. How’s it going, Lina?” Harvey asked as he wrapped those tattooed pythons around me. I managed to kick Knox in the ass as he left but it was only a glancing blow and did little to soothe my temper.

Lucian deposited Sloane next to Naomi. “Move from this spot and we’ll have problems,” he warned, looming over her with a finger in her face.

“Bite me, Lucifer.”

Knox and Lucian took their stances next to Nash and Nolan.

“Pretty sure you’re the only one being investigated for abuse of power, ya jack wagon,” someone in the crowd drawled at Dilton.

“You shut your dirty, lyin’ mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” he snarled.

He was drunk, which made him that much more dangerous. I noticed Sergeant Hopper and another officer sidling up behind the first line of defense, ready to step in if necessary. Realizing I wasn’t going to get a shot at avenging Sloane or myself, I let myself go limp against Harvey.

He released me, then patted me on the head before stepping up next to Hopper.

Irritated, I joined Naomi and Sloane. Our view was restricted by the ring of Knockemout citizens taking Nash’s back.

“Come on,” I said, spotting an abandoned picnic table.

“But Lucian told Sloane not to move,” Naomi said, lifting the hem of her dress.

“Lucian can kiss my ass,” Sloane said and followed me.

The three of us climbed up onto the table.

“Pretty sure he’d like to do more than kiss it,” I guessed.

She ignored my comment and squinted at the crowd. “All I can see are pissed-off blobs.”

“We’ll get your glasses as soon as Nash is done talking these assholes to death,” I promised.

Naomi shook her head. “Oh, he’s not talking them to death. He’s lulling them into a fake sense of complacency. Just watch.”

“Tate?” A pretty blond on the edge of the crowd wrung her hands.

“Go back to the car, Melissa,” Dilton snapped.

“Mom called. Ricky has a fever—”

“Go back to the fuckin’ car!”

The woman scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

“You’re under arrest, Williams,” Nash said to the guy who’d grabbed Sloane. “You have the right to an attorney.”

But Nash wasn’t reaching for cuffs and he also wasn’t taking a defensive stance. From my vantage point, I could see Williams getting ready to do something really stupid. He waited until Nash had almost finished reading him his rights before making his move.

I watched in slow motion as the man’s fist plowed into Nash’s face. A very feminine gasp escaped me as his head snapped back with the force of the blow. But he didn’t stagger and he didn’t put his hands up to defend himself.

I made a move to jump down from the table, but Naomi stopped me. No one else in the crowd had moved a muscle.

“What the hell is he doing?” I hissed. “Nash just let that guy hit him.”

“It’s a whole thing,” Naomi said. “If he gets hit first, it’s self-defense, and according to Lucian, the legal bills are smaller.”

“Plus, this counts as resisting arrest,” Sloane added.

“Why, I do believe Bronte Williams just assaulted an officer while resisting arrest,” Harvey yelled through cupped hands.

“That’s what I saw,” a woman in flannel agreed.

“Same here.”

“I feel unsafe with this criminal activity unfolding in front of me. I might have to defend myself.”

A chorus of agreement rang out from the crowd.

“You got your one shot. Now either turn your ass around and put your hands behind your back or try that shit again,” Nash said to Williams.

Williams and Dilton exchanged a look and then struck simultaneously. Williams hauled back to hit Nash and found himself taking a face full of pissed-off police chief fist. He went down like an anvil. No swaying. No stumbling. One shot and he keeled over backward, unconscious before he hit the road. It was beautiful.

“Yes!” I said, pumping my arm in victory.

Dilton’s swing connected with Nolan’s jaw. Nolan spit, then grinned as he raised his own fists.

“What’s happening? Did the fat blob just punch Nash? Who are the other two blobs?” Sloane demanded.

Naomi delivered the play-by-play for Sloane as Nolan delivered a one-two combination to Dilton’s face that had the man staggering back and tripping over his own damn feet. He landed hard on his ass, which made the crowd laugh.

It was over that quickly.

“Nice shot, Nolan,” Sloane yelled.

“Does violence make you want to break your three-date rule?” Naomi teased.

In no time at all, Hopper and the other officer were loading the two bloodied, handcuffed assholes into the back of a cruiser. Williams was a bit groggy from his recent trip to dreamland, and I felt a sense of vindication when Dilton howled in pain as his ass hit the seat.

I noticed Lucian in the middle of the street pause to pick something up off the ground. He studied it, then tucked it into his pocket. His eyes scanned the crowd, then narrowed when he spotted us on the picnic table.

“Uh-oh,” Naomi whispered.

“Uh-oh what?” Sloane demanded. “I can’t see shit!”

“Lucian is coming toward us,” I said.

“And he looks mad,” Naomi added.

Sloane snorted. “Please. He always looks that way. It’s a permanent case of PMS.”

“Uh, no. I have to agree with Naomi. He looks like he wants to murder someone and that someone might be—”

“I told you to stay put,” Lucian snapped at Sloane.

“And I told you to kiss my ass. I guess neither one of us does what we’re told,” she said, enjoying her vantage point over him.

“Oh boy,” Naomi whispered, tilting her bag of popcorn in my direction.

I took a handful.

Lucian reached up, hooked his hands under Sloane’s arms, and scooped her off the table. She yelped, then struggled as he held her at eye level for just a beat before lowering her to the ground.

“I love it when a guy can do that,” I said.

“Be more careful,” Lucian growled. The man was a foot taller than she was and he used that height to loom over her.

Sloane, however, had no intention of being intimidated.

Fire burned bright in her eyes as she went toe-to-toe with him. “Right. Because me dancing is a provocation. I was basically asking for some drunk moron to put his hands on me.”

Naomi crunched loudly next to me.

“If you don’t want me to get involved, stop making it impossible,” he snarled.

“Read my lips, Lucian. I don’t need you anywhere near my life. So you can stop pretending you care. We both know the truth.”

“Damn,” I whispered, helping myself to more of Naomi’s popcorn. “Did his eyes just change color and get more dangerous?”

“Oh, definitely,” Naomi agreed.

“He looks like he wants to take a bite out of her,” I observed. The fact that neither one of them was writhing on the ground electrocuted by the sparks they fired off at each other was a miracle.

“I know, right? I can’t believe they haven’t torn each other’s clothes off and hate banged yet.”

“When they do, I bet it’ll shift the earth’s axis and send us spinning off into space,” I predicted.

Nash stole our attention from the picnic table standoff by clapping his hands in the center of what had been the dance floor. “All right, everybody. It’s still a party. What are y’all doing just standing around?”

He gave the band an impatient signal and they immediately launched into Thomas Rhett’s “Die a Happy Man.”

Knox appeared in front of us. With one tug on Naomi’s hand, he had her falling over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Daisy.” He put a hand on her ass and carried her laughing to the dance floor.

Other couples joined them. I was alone on the picnic table, thinking I could use another drink, when someone snagged my wrist. Nash Morgan looked up at me.

“Get down here,” he ordered. His eye was puffy from Williams’s fist and there was a drop of dried blood at the corner of his mouth. Two of his knuckles were split and bleeding. He looked so damn heroic I would have swooned…if the rest of him wasn’t so annoying.

“I’m fine where I—”

He moved fast for a guy still healing from bullet wounds. Before I could fight it, he lifted me off the table and set me on the ground in front of him.

“I’m not dancing with you,” I said as his hands settled at my waist.

“Least you can do after that trouble,” he said as he gave another pull that had my hips meeting his. Those blue eyes smoldered and I wondered if my underwear was in danger of catching fire.

“You don’t look like you want to dance with me,” I said as my arms found their way around his neck.

“What do I look like?”

“Like you want to throttle me.”

“Oh no, Angel. I was thinking of something much worse.”

For once in my life, I had no intention of poking the bear. I’d seen too much of him, felt too much for him. I was standing on the edge of a precipice that I didn’t want to fall from.

We swayed from side to side to the tick-tock beat of the song, never breaking eye contact. He pulled me closer while I used my elbows to push him away, each of us applying more and more force.

“How’s your face?” I asked as my arms started to shake.

“Hurts.”

“I was handling it, you know. I could have hit him myself,” I said as my elbows lost the battle and he pulled me against his chest. Once again, Nash Morgan had gotten closer than I wanted him.

He traced the tip of his nose around the outer shell of my ear. “I know you could, baby. But I was in a better position to do more damage.”

“Clearly you’ve never been punched by me.”

We were swaying flush against each other. My elbows were on his shoulders, my hands looped behind his neck.

“Williams has a glass jaw. Everyone knows it. All you need is one shot to the right spot and he goes down like a ton of bricks. Hit him there after he assaults an officer when he’s already had two similar charges and the situation cleans itself up real fast.”

I pulled back to look up at his face.

“Okay. Maybe I’m a little impressed.”

“With what?”

“With you. I was mad. I just wanted to make him bleed. But you were fueled by rage and still had the capacity to run those calculations.”

“I had good reason to do it the right way.”

“Why’s that?”

“He touched you.”

He said it so simply, as if he wasn’t delivering the truth with the strike of a hammer. As if I didn’t feel it inside me like a thousand tiny electric shocks. As if my stupid heart didn’t fall right out of my stupid chest and land at his damn feet.

He touched you.

And just like that, I toppled right off that precipice into free fall.

A short, blond Robin Hood popped up next to us. “Hey, Lina? We’re running low on raffle tickets and I can’t see shit. Do you know where—”

“I’ll get them,” I volunteered, all but jumping out of Nash’s arms…out of his gravitational field.

Without waiting for a reply, I hauled ass toward the library. Inside, I slapped a hand to my chest and headed for the stairs. I liked my walls. I liked being safe behind them. But Nash was breaking through, and it scared the bejeezus out of me.

I took the stairs at a jog and found the second floor dark, but I didn’t want the light. I didn’t want to see the truth of what was happening. I couldn’t possibly be falling for Nash. I barely knew him. We’d had more fights than civil conversations. Two steps forward. Two steps back.

We hadn’t even had sex.

I headed for the back office when I heard the footsteps on the stairs behind me and I knew.

It was inevitable.

We were inevitable.

But that didn’t mean I was ready to face that fact.

As quietly as I could, I raced toward the office. Beyond it was a large supply closet where the raffle tickets were stored. Where I would be cornered.

He was coming fast and I had to decide, but panic made me foolish. I veered off into the small employee break room.

I didn’t make it two steps into the room before Nash caught me. Those big, rough hands settled on my hips as if staking a claim.

My back was flush with his front, every glorious inch of it. And the rightness of it had me wondering why I bothered trying to escape it in the first place.

“I’m gonna turn you around, Angel. And when I do, you’re gonna stop running and I’m gonna stop fighting this.” His voice was a soul-stirring rasp against my ear. “Do you get me?” he prodded.

A shiver rolled up my spine. I so got him. I got him so good.

I nodded and without hesitation, he spun me around so my front met his. My breasts were crushed against his chest. His erection pressed into my belly. His thighs were hard against mine. The only separation was the infinitesimal inch between our mouths.

My world was full of Nash. His clean scent, the heat and hardness of his body. The magnetic field of his attention.

“You’re gonna open your mouth for me.”

“Excuse me?” I was going for haughty but it came out breathy.

He dipped his head, drawing me even closer. “And I’m gonna kiss you.”

“You can’t just expect—”

But the man did expect. And damned if I didn’t open my mouth the second his lips hit mine.

Inevitable.