Page 17 of Knox

I drove my foot down hard on his, wishing I could shove the heel of my shoe straight through him. I bent my arm and attempted to drive my elbow into his spine by way of his belly button.

I opened my mouth to scream once more, but I was falling.

The hands had released me.

I dropped like a stone, hitting the ground with a bone-jarring thud. My palms scraped against sand and broken shells near the scrub grass. Pain exploded through my shoulder, hip, and wrist.

Footsteps thundered away from me, crashing through the underbrush.

Then a shadow covered me, blocking the beam of moonlight through the clouds. The newcomer was massive and fast-moving. I couldn’t catch my breath, stand, or get away.

A scream made of terror and adrenaline tore from my throat, raw and primal as the newcomer approached. I scrambled backward, shredded palms sliding in the sand, as I prepared for attack number two.

“Sloane! It’s me. It’s Knox. Are you okay?”

The strangely familiar voice dampened my panic.

I blinked at the figure crouching before me, and Knox’s face came into focus. His strong features were tight with concern, those striking blue eyes scanned my face, my throat, my arms, assessing and searching for injuries. He glanced over his shoulder, into the darkness where my attacker had disappeared.

“Are you okay?” His hands hovered near my shoulders without touching, as if he was afraid I might break. “Sloane, talk to me. Are you wounded?”

I opened my mouth, but only the sound of a strangled sob emerged. “Someone attacked me.”

“I saw that. I’m sorry.” Knox’s jaw clenched. He looked torn, his whole body coiled as if he might sprint into the darkness and hunt the bastard down. But he didn’t move. Didn’t leave my side. “He got away.”

The reality of his words hit me like a blow. I was safe. Knox was here, and the man who’d tried to drag me into the marsh was gone.

A sob broke on my lips, then another, louder, racking my whole body and causing my teeth to chatter. Misplaced adrenaline flooded through me in waves, too much, too fast, with nowhere to go.

“Knox!” A woman’s voice carried across the lawn. “Knox, what’s going on?”

He lifted one big hand, keeping his eyes on me. “Here! We’re here!”

Soft footsteps approached, quick and light. I tried to pull myself together, to stop the shaking, but my body wouldn’t obey.

“Holy shit.” Maggie appeared beside us, her face pale and wide-eyed in the moonlight. “What happened?” She took in the scene, gaze skimming over me where I sat on the ground, Knox crouched protectively beside me. Then she looked to the trampled reeds leading into the darkness. “Oh my God. Ms. Mercer?”

“Someone attacked her.” Knox’s voice was flat and controlled. “Big guy, dark clothes. He ran when I got here. Headed into the marsh, probably already in the maritime forest.” He turned to Maggie. “Call your brother. I’ll get Sloane back to the house.”

Maggie already had her phone in hand, clearly planning to make that call without his request. “Is she hurt?”

“I’m okay.”

Knox’s attention returned to me. “Let’s get her inside and cleaned up.” He offered a hand in my direction.

I nodded, and he curved strong fingers around one of my elbows, steady and warm.

“Can you stand?”

I nodded again, not trusting my voice while Maggie spoke to someone on the phone. With Knox’s help, I got my feet beneath me. My legs wobbled, unsteady and weak, but he kept me upright, pinned safely to his side.

My sobs turned slowly into whimpers as he steadied me. Then the tears vanished as quickly as they’d come. I wiped at my face with my free hand, accidentally smearing sand across one cheek. There was blood on my dress, on my palms, on Knox.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly. His gaze caught mine in the moonlight. “You’re okay. That’s what matters. The cuts look superficial.”

I leaned into him, welcoming his kindness and strength. He smelled like soap and clean cotton and something else I couldn’t name. His free arm rose around me, solid and protective, and I let myself melt into that embrace.

I took a mental inventory, thankful I wasn’t seriously injured. Bruised and shaken, yes. But nothing I wouldn’t survive.