Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Wow. You didn’t even flinch a little bit. I’m impressed.”
Knight scoffs. “I spend my days getting shot at, and then I come home to the likes of you. Getting a tattoo is nothing compared to what I go through simply trying to keep you alive.”
I laugh and step right into him, my gaze roaming over his chest as I try to figure out what’s new. And sure, on anybody else, picking out a tattoo shouldn’t be like playing Where’s Waldo, but on Knight, who’s covered almost head to toe, that’s exactly what it is. “What’d you get?” I ask, my fingers splaying across his warm chest.
He lifts his hand and brushes it over his fresh ink, and a grin pulls across my lips, seeing the perfect outline of the bite mark I’d left over his shoulder earlier in the day. “What the hell!” I say, peering up into his warm stare. “Why’d you do that?”
His arm slips around my waist, pulling me in tight against his chest. “To remind myself that your bite is always going to be much worse than your bark, and that I should check myself before ever trying to go toe-to-toe with you again.”
I laugh as I push up onto my tiptoes and brush my lips over his. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
19
KNIGHT
It’s late on Thursday night as I sit at my desk, thumbing through papers while organizing the next field training day for my team. There are certain requirements we have to meet, but I ensure that my team works far beyond that.
Their bullshit requirements, while impressive at an entry level, are a joke to my team now. We’re simply too good, the best of the best, and that’s not my ego talking. There’s a reason why we’re the most sought-after team across the country.
I sit back in my chair, hearing the sound of Ace and Diesel beating the shit out of each other in the gym, and as I run my hands through my hair, I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. I’m not exactly fond of paperwork, and while I understand the importance of it, I hate this part of my job. I’d give anything to be in there with the guys, fucking around and training, but this is what reality looks like for me. I knew this was part of the gig when I accepted the role. I just fucking hate it.
It was always my goal to get here, and I don’t regret stepping up and filling the position, but there’s no denying that being at the top comes with a few painful downfalls. But someone’s gotta do it, right? Diesel would be great leading the team. He’s already proved that time and time again, but he’s crafted the same as me. While he’d love the physical part of the job, he’s never envied me for the amount of paperwork I’ve got to complete to keep the suits satisfied. On the other hand, Ace would be more than capable of stepping up; the only problem is, he doesn’t want it bad enough. He’s content where he is, happy to chill and let the world pass him by while the responsibility rests on somebody else’s shoulders.
Letting out a sigh, I get back to work, but as soon as I put pen to paper, my phone rings. When I scoop it off the desk, Harper’s name staring up at me makes my chest tighten. I accept her call and lift the phone to my ear. She’s been through a lot, but ever since she blocked her mother’s number, something seems to have eased within her. She seems happier, carefree, and I fucking love it.
“Hey, doll.”
“Hi,” she says, a smile in her tone. “Thought I’d check to make sure all that paperwork wasn’t kicking your ass.”
“You know it is.”
“Damn. And I thought I was the only one allowed to kick your ass.”
I laugh at the absurdity of Harper thinking she could possibly beat me and flick the pen between my fingers. “You wish you could kick my ass.”
“Actually, speaking of that, I was actually thinking that maybe you could teach me.”
“Teach you?” I ask, my brows furrowed. “Teach you what?”
“How to defend myself,” she tells me. “With everything going on . . . I don’t know. I guess I’m tired of feeling weak all the time. I don’t want to have to steal scalpels from work just to feel safe walking to my car. I don’t think I need to know how to beat someone almost to death, but I think it’ll be good to know how to escape as a bare minimum, you know? Give myself a chance to get free so that there’s something left for you to swoop in and save.”
“I can get down with that,” I tell her, pride sweeping through me. “Don’t get me wrong, doll. I will always be there if you’re in trouble, but knowing you were capable of defending yourself would go a long way in making me feel better. I’ve always been an advocate for learning basic self-defense, especially for women.”