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“Wait!” I shouted and reached for his arm, wincing when pain tore through my forearm.

“You’re bleeding,” he grunted.

“I’m fine, it’s just a graze. Did you get a good look at those guys?”

Jaeger nodded. “Yeah.”

“I recognized them. It was Vulture and Samson. They’re Warlords MC.” Not just that, they were some of Rex’s most trusted men, which meant he’d done this.

***

It felt like an eternity had passed before Knox showed up but then there he was, coming down the embankment so fast I thought he might hurt himself before he got to me. His face was a hard mask I was still learning to read when he came to a stop right in front of me. I watched him closely and leaned against the side of the truck, gripping the camera bag until the straps dug into my palm.

He grabbed my arms too tight and that’s when I felt his whole body vibrating. “What the fuck was he thinking?” His voice was hard and low, but the fear was there and it was undeniable, and when he hauled me against his chest and hugged the breath out of me, I knew it was all fear and fury. “Fuck, Ivy. That bastard tried to kill you!”

I shuddered against his chest, the combination of his emotions and their depth made my heart do strange things inside my chest. Knox wasn’t a man who showed any hints of vulnerability, at least not as far as I saw, but here he was being vulnerable with me.

On my behalf.

He seemed to need to hold me, to smell my hair and because of that, I let him. I leaned into his chest and inhaled his masculine scent for as long as he needed. There was comfort in his touch but there was also a fury building inside me that Rex would go so far.

My mind raced as I rode back to the clubhouse in silence on the back of his bike.

I sat in Knox’s room for I don’t know how long, just thinking and listening. After making sure I was comfortable, Knox had left. I wasn’t sure where he was, most probably dealing with the wrecked truck I figured. The clubhouse was eerily quiet, so quiet that my thoughts were loud enough to echo, and I didn’t like what I was hearing. Every damn time I closed my eyes, I was back on the road reliving the attack. It was meant to be a message from Rex.

I knew that much.

What was the message? I had no idea. But one thing I knew for sure, if my father had wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be here now.

Knox stepped inside the room and looked at me. His jaw was set and his dark eyes contained a galaxy of anger. “We’re staying at the clubhouse until further notice.”

“Okay.” I stood.

He nodded once, seemingly grateful for my easy compliance. “Come on. We need to grab our shit from the house.”

I followed him on shaking legs. My body moved to his bike on autopilot, and I hopped on the back, wrapping my arms around him without thinking about it. For the life of me, I still couldn’t figure out what had Rex so rattled.

Does it matter?

That was the question I kept circling back to as I moved through Knox’s house, packing up clothes and toiletries, shoes and then I stopped. There on the bookshelf was the art history book I’d brought with me without a plan, but standing there all banged up, hands still trembling with adrenaline, I felt the stirrings of a plan.

I grabbed the book and took it with me to the living room where Knox stood with a small duffel at his feet.

“Ready?” His tone was anxious but still angry.

I inhaled deeply and let it out slowly before nodding. “We need to talk.”

“Ivy,” he began, already shaking his head. “We should get back to the clubhouse.”

“I know,” I said softly. “And we will. But this is important.” It wasn’t just what it was, but the fact that I was choosing to trust him.

That I was choosing Knox.

He stared at me for a long time before he spoke. “Yeah, okay.” He dragged his feet and sat on the edge of the sofa, turning his head to watch me. “What’s up?”

I joined him on the sofa, close enough that I felt the warmth of his body without actually touching him. I pulled up the giant book and rested my hand on top of it. “This book started as… I don’t know, revenge maybe? I can’t say why other than anger but over the years it’s become a lot.”

His brows dipped in confusion. “What’s art history got to do with anything?” he asked, his tone completely bewildered.