Page 16 of Knox

I started toward the back door, my boots crunching on the crushed-shell driveway, past a marble fountain and beneath an elaborate portico.

The kitchen was crowded when I walked in. At least a dozen people moved in choreographed precision through the pristine white space. Pans sizzled on an eight-burner stove. Plates and glasses rattled loudly. The air smelled of garlic and butter.

Maggie appeared at my elbow, clipboard in hand. “Perfect timing. Wine goes in the butler’s pantry.” She pointed. “Through there, second door on the left. Beer in the garage fridge.”

I nodded and headed for the pantry, weaving between members of the catering staff.

The house was even more impressive inside than out. Soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers. The art on the walls probably cost more than I’d made in my entire military career.

Through the doorway to the main living area, guests mingled in cocktail attire, women in dresses and men in suits that fit too well to be off the rack.

I didn’t belong here. None of us did.

I headed back outside, grabbing another case from the back of Maggie’s van. I made two more trips before noticing the old VW bus parked just past the property line, along the tall grasses in the shadows.

I paused, squinting into the darkness, a case of imported beer in my arms. Had the vehicle been there all along? Or had it shown up after I arrived?

No one at this party would’ve driven that, but maybe a member of the staff?

“Knox!” Maggie’s voice carried from the back door. “Grab the white coolers next, will you?”

“Yeah,” I called.

I returned the beer, in favor of the requested coolers, and gave the bus one more long look.

Still motionless and silent.

I made a mental note to get the plate number and look through the windows on my next trip to Maggie’s van.

I was three steps from the back door when a scream cut through the night.

The coolers hit the ground before I made the decision to drop them. Shrimp scattered across the crushed shells as I launched into motion, moving on instinct toward the cry. Someone was hurt. Had they fallen into the water? Were they drowning?

Another scream, raw and terrified, rent the night. No one was drowning. The sound hadn’t come from the water. The danger was behind the house. I rounded the corner at a dead sprint, eyes fighting to adjust to the darkness. A wide, manicured lawn gave way to wild scrub and reeds a few yards away.

Two figures appeared in the cloud-filtered moonlight, struggling in the shadows. One large, in dark apparel that made him nearly invisible. The other smaller, thrashing against his hold.

I closed the distance fast. Thirty feet. Twenty. “Hey!” I shouted. “Release her!”

The woman took shape as I drew nearer. Her hair was up, and she wore a knee-length dress with heels. A guest of the party, no doubt.

The man turned his face toward the sound of my approach, and his victim used the opportunity to her advantage. She lifted, then stomped one heel into her assailant’s foot and twisted an arm free when he grunted. In the next breath, she bent the limb and slammed her elbow against his ribs, driving a deep whoosh of breath from his core.

A bank of heavy clouds skated across the sky as she moved, releasing moonlight over the sound, the lawn, and her face.

Sloane.

Chapter 7

Sloane

My vision tunneled and my chest burned. Rough hands crushed the air from my lungs as I tried to break free. I clawed at the arm locked around my torso, my nails scraping uselessly against what felt like leather. The world tilted in a nauseating spin.

Across the darkened yard, my friends and family enjoyed a party. No one had a clue I was about to lose my life. My pulse leapt and hammered so frantically I could hear it, an erratic drumbeat drowning out nearly everything else.

Except the distant sound of yelling. Someone was hollering a series of booming threats into the night.

The assailant paused in surprise, only for a second, but that was all I needed.