Page 49 of Knox

Knox

I rose before dawn and made my rounds. The perimeter was secure. No signs of anyone on or around the property. Just the familiar night sounds of the island and the quiet humming of the house around me.

Security check complete, I lay on Sloane’s couch, staring at the ceiling while my mind catalogued every possible entry point to this house, every vulnerability, every way someone could get to her. The security system Archer and Colton planned would help. But technology could fail. Systems could be bypassed. There was always a blind spot. A chink in the armor.

If someone made it past the defenses, Sloane needed to be able to defend herself. She was already tough, a fighter without training. She’d be a major problem for potential attackers if she had a few basic skills and a little practical experience.

I sat up, an idea taking form. Moonlight streaming through the windows overlooking the sound. The home creaked and settled.

And the soft pad of footsteps filtered down from upstairs.

I tensed, then recognized Sloane’s gait. A moment later, she appeared wearing sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders. She stopped when she saw me sitting up.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked quietly.

“Keeping an eye on things.”

She crossed to the kitchen. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that moment. I feel his hands on me. Then the panic builds.” She opened the refrigerator, the light casting her in a soft glow. “Want some water?”

“Yeah.”

She brought two bottles and settled into the armchair across from the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. I tried not to notice the way the moonlight caught in her hair or how her T-shirt had slipped off one shoulder.

I failed.

“I have an idea that might give you some added comfort,” I said.

Her brow furrowed. “Yeah?”

I set my water aside and leaned forward, resting my forearms on my thighs. “I want to teach you some self-defense basics. Nothing complicated. Just enough so you feel more in control.”

Sloane’s expression shuttered. “The goal is supposed to be that I won’t need to fight off another attacker.”

“It is.” I kept my voice level, understanding. “That’s true, and you fought this guy off at the party. That was brave, and you’re obviously not helpless. But wouldn’t it feel better to have some tools? Some muscle memory responses you can rely on if you need them?”

“You’re saying that like you think it will happen again.”

I shook my head. “I’m troubleshooting. We know the guy who grabbed you is still out there. And until we find him, I’d feel better if we had a plan in place. I want you prepared.” I held her gaze. “I already know you’re willing to do what it takes to help find this guy. You plan to put yourself out there. There’s always a chance that having these skills will make the difference you need. If you never have cause to use them, all the better.”

She was quiet for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. When would you show me?”

I looked around the fancy living room. It was large enough to move comfortably, not that we needed a lot of space. It would be easy to move furniture. “How about now?”

“Now? Knox, it’s four in the morning.”

“I’m not sleeping, and clearly neither are you.” I stood.

Sloane’s eyes widened slightly as she watched me stretch onto my feet.

“Come on. Fifteen minutes. If you change your mind at any time, we stop.”

Sloane studied me carefully, then unfolded herself from the chair. “Fine. But I apologize in advance if I hurt you.”

I grinned. “Noted.”

I pushed the couch back. Moved the coffee table against the wall and the armchair into the corner. Creating an open space on the hardwood floor.

“Wow, so you’re really doing this,” Sloane said, watching me work.