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I looked back to Deacon and Graham and shook my head. “I really wish you—”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we’ve never listened to you before,” Deacon said. “We already discussed it; we’ll go in a separate truck just in case anything comes up where we would need to put you in a different one.” When I just continued to shake my head, he turned around and marched from the room as he said, “Get over it, Harlow: we’re coming with you.”
Graham raised an eyebrow in challenge, but I didn’t say anything; just let my shoulders sag. After a few seconds he said, “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, and, in a way, the strongest. But even the bravest war
riors needed armies with them.”
“I’m not a warrior,” I said softly.
“You sure about that?” His eyes darted to Knox. “Time to go.”
I was still staring at the spot where Graham had been standing when Knox pulled me off the bed. He slowly walked us to the front of the house with my hand clasped tightly in his.
“Stay a few car lengths behind us, and let me know if you see any dark BMWs following us,” Knox ordered, but he sounded exhausted. “When we get there, whoever is driving, stay in the truck; the other can follow us into the station a couple of minutes later. Try to stay somewhere where you can look out for—shit. Do you even know what he looks like?”
“Think so,” Graham mumbled.
“I do,” Deacon said. “The guy with the smile’s son. I told you before. He has the smile, too.”
“But how do you know that, and what if he isn’t smiling?” Knox asked.
“I watch the news.”
“Since when?” Knox and Graham asked at the same time, but before he could respond, Knox continued. “Never mind. Let’s just get this over with.”
None of us moved. But after a minute Knox clenched his teeth and turned to leave with me tucked close to his side. Once we were outside, I stopped breathing and felt Knox’s body grow tense. It was obvious that even though his head was still, he was looking everywhere for someone who shouldn’t be there.
He opened the passenger door to his truck, but before he let me get in, pulled me close and captured my mouth with his.
The kiss was slow and unhurried, and completely didn’t fit the anxious and worried mood that had just filled his entryway, but I needed it all the same. I traced the line of his jaw with one hand while clinging to him with the other, and a soft cry fell past my lips when he reluctantly pulled away.
“We’re going to be fine,” he whispered against my forehead, careful not to touch the huge cut on the side.
I simply nodded, and didn’t bother to acknowledge out loud the fact that he’d sounded like he was trying to convince both of us.
It felt like we were both shaking from how tight we were holding our bodies once we were in the truck and driving away from his house. Each house we passed felt like it took an eternity, and I wondered how we were going to survive this drive, just from our fear alone.
We’d just passed the center of Thatch when Knox’s phone rang. We both jumped, and I wanted to laugh at us, but couldn’t find it in me to.
Knox cursed, then answered the call. “What, Deacon?” he growled, his tone laced with worry as he put the call on speaker.
“That car from our street is behind you. The BMW we talked about at breakfast. It could be a coincidence; we don’t know how long it’s been there. We waited a minute after you left before even leaving the house to get into Graham’s truck.”
Knox and I were both looking in the side- and rearview mirrors, and the mumbled curses continued. “Okay, I see the car. Can’t see the driver; they’re too far back. I didn’t even look for it when we left; I just focused on driving.”
“Like I said, it could be a coincidence. Do you want to turn somewhere? See if the car follows?”
“Where, Deacon? I just passed the last damn street. I’m about to hit the bridge before the freeway.”
Deacon and Graham shouted curses, and I turned to look behind us just in time to see the BMW smash into the back of Knox’s truck.
“Fuck!” Knox yelled, and tried to correct the truck when it slid. “Face forward!” he yelled, but I couldn’t move. My eyes were frozen on the man driving the SUV pushing ours across a bridge.
“Collin,” I whispered.
Chapter 22
Knox
