Mr. Knight
“I’m taking you out,” Max states. “Are you up for a burger?”
“You don’t need to. The ball is only a day away.”
“Please?”
“Max—”
He drops to his knees, wrapping his arms around my middle and stuffing his face in the fabric of my shirt, pressing his lips into my belly. Then he whispers in Arabic, begging me. My heart instantly melts and I turn into a spineless creature. I love when Max speaks to me in Arabic. Though the language is foreign, I feel a close connection to it. Sometimes, I whisper to Max in Spanish. My dad taught me and Tyler Spanish as soon as we were old enough to comprehend it. I was sort of rusty at first. I haven’t conversed in Spanish in so long. It’s been years now.
I run my hands through his thick, curly hair and tug lightly. “That’s so not fair, you found my weak spot.”
Max smiles up at me. “You have many spots, but none are weak.” He kisses me above my bellybutton and I gasp, my legs still feel a little shaky.
He grabs Birthday and her pink leash and we head out the door. Dread fills me as Max pulls into the lot at Roxy’s. My eyes instantaneously find Hunter’s red truck parked a few spaces away. My stomach is infested with drunken butterflies that threaten to batter and tear each other apart.
“Max,” I murmur in an unsteady voice, “I can’t go inside.”
His brows snap together, then he jerks his head up. “What’s the matter? You were fine a moment ago?”
“It’s,” I clear my throat but the fear won’t fade. “I can’t stomach seeing…Hunter. Just order and take it to go.”
I guess he agrees, but I can’t hear what he says over the thundering beat in my ears. Max smiles and touches my face. His eyes thoroughly take in mine and his smile instantly vanishes. I don’t know what Max finds within them, but I can tell he doesn’t approve. I sigh when he leaves to get the food.
Refusing to wait a second longer, I grab Birthday and her leash. She needs to relieve herself and I need some air. We stroll along the sidewalk and trimmed bushes. Though we live in a small southern town, a large portion of the Cherry Creek population is seriously wealthy. It’s not uncommon to see several luxury cars parked in a lot of a Shop & Go. Most of Bayham County is pristine and orderly. We still carry on apple-pies-cooling-on-the-windowsill-and-bible-study-on-every-Tuesday-and-Thursday-nights tradition. The town of Cherry Creek reminds me of those model towns. Everything looks immaculate and synthetic.
Loud giggling brings me from my reverie. I involuntarily turn my head in the direction, instantly wanting to crumble into nothing. Candy, dressed in her Roxy uniform, covers Hunter’s face in red kisses. His eyes are screwed shut but he’s smiling, and his hands are below her waist, cupping her ass. She embraces him. The muscles in his arms flex as he squeezes her back. Hunter whispers something in her ear and she nuzzles deeper into him, playfully slapping his arm and laughing softly. Just then Max saunters out the glass door with a plastic takeout bag hanging from his hand. He stops by Hunter’s truck and taps Candy on the shoulder. Her long ruby-colored ponytail smacks Max in the face as she swirls around, her smile and eyes get wider as she embraces Max, even lifting both feet off the ground. Max hugs her back and then quickly releases her. He says something to Hunter and, to my surprise, they both shake hands. It’s brief but they did it. Hunter tells Max something. Max’s eyes dart to his SUV, quickly scanning the lot. Candy finds me before Max does. She jumps excitedly and points directly at me. Max gives me an easy smile and waves me over. Candy clasps her hands and once my gaze shifts to Hunter’s, he holds my eyes captive as I make my way over to them.
Why does it feel like I’m walking over scalding coals?
“…she’s been doing well. I wish I knew what those nightmares were about, though. She wakes up every morning with a sudden jolt and breathlessness. Her whole body is bathed in sweat. It’s like she’s drowning and she can’t get air fast enough.” I have to talk to Max about divulging personal information. He should know better. He is a cop. “Pumpkin!” Max throws a heavy arm over my shoulders, pulling me close to him.
Hunter eyes narrow and he is clenching his jaw. He intensely stares at me, it’s like he’s looking past all the physical and peering into the core of my being.
“Hey,” I say in a strained voice. “Candy, Hunter.”
I’m startled when Candy wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry you haven’t been sleeping well. Mama makes this sleepy time tea for me when I come on my period. I get cranky and can’t rest for nothing in the world. The tea knocks me right on out. I can have her make you a batch and drop it off at Max’s.”
“No. That’s okay. It’s not worth the trouble,” I mumble.
“You sure? ’Cause it’ll solve all your sleeping problems. I’m sure you can use a goodnight’s rest.”
“I—”
“She would love that,” Hunter interjects. His turbulent eyes hold mine. “Isabel, what do you say?”
“T-thank you,” I stutter, responding automatically.
Hunter grins, smugly.
Max gives me a strange look.
Damn!
She holds me at arm’s length before releasing me. “I’m so glad. Well, I’ll call Mama tonight and drop it off later if you want.”
Hunter’s grin turns into a full-blown smile. He gives me a slight nod.
“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you again, Candy.”
She turns her attention to Birthday. “She’s growing. She’s a pretty little somethin’ too.”
“Birthday is like our own baby. We take turns walking her and feeding her. Isabel and I make a great team,” Max declares.
I can’t even look Hunter in the face right now, but I can feel the fury emitting off his body in lethal doses. Letting my gaze fall, I tug on Max’s sleeve. “Max, let’s go. Later, Hunter.”
“See ya’ll at the ball,” Max says over his shoulder.
“Later,” Hunter whispers so lowly I almost didn’t catch it. The problem is that I feel Hunter’s whisper all over my skin.
When we get back to the house, Max and I eat our burgers while watching Titanic. “Why did you tell them about my nightmares?”
“I wanted to see Hunter’s reaction,” Max says through mouthfuls of food.
I study him a moment. “You think he tried to kill me.”
He takes a huge chunk from his burger, his eyes still on the TV screen. “It wouldn’t surprise me. He has a motive. He’s been stalking you for years. I don’t trust him, Pumpkin. Something isn’t right with Hunter. The way he looks at you…it’s strange.”
“We’ve been best friends since we were little, Max. Hunter would never harm me. You don’t know him like I do.”
He sighs, slinking his half-eaten burger in the box. Max runs his hands irately through his hair, squeezing as he goes. “I don’t think we should discuss this anymore. You bite my head off every time I mention his name.” He brings his hands to his forehand and presses them in.
I have been making this more difficult for Max. It’s like I’m having Hunter withdraws. I can’t help but lash out at Max when he only is trying to help me.
Feeling guilty, I crawl into Max’s lap, laying my head on his chest. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to think clearly with everything that’s happening.”
Max strokes my hair and then kisses the top of my head. “It has to be very difficult for you to let him go, but I’m looking out for your well-being. I don’t think you get that much.”
I fight down the urge to protest and simply nestle into him.
Waking with a sharp jolt, I sit up on the couch disorientated, choking, and sweaty. My dark blue T-shirt clings to me like a second skin. I’m alone again. The TV is muted and everything is just too quiet. Max probably got called into duty because I notice his cruiser is gone once I peer out the window into the pitch-black night. My car is parked next to his Suburban. I’m limited to the places Max said I could go, but I need to talk to Mr. Knight. He’s the only one with the answers I need.
Hero said Caleb lived in one of his condos in town. I know (and the entire population of Bayham County knows) exactly where his properties are. The ride to the center of town is a brief one. The glistening buildings in a rainbow of hues seem to expand every year. Mr. Knight does have an eye for beauty and luxury.
Taking in a deep breath, I push through the glass doors. An attractive man in a black suit greets me at the front desk. “Welcome to Home Bay. How may I help you?” He has a smooth, faint accent that I can’t quite place. He looks like a freaking editorial model.
“Umm…” I flip my long hair from my face and shift nervously from foot to foot. “Can I speak with Mr. Knight please?”
The man gives me a critical once-over, taking in my loose casual clothing and my red Converse sneakers. My stomach flutters. I hate being looked at like that. It’s like I’m being appraised.
He smiles, blinding me with straight white teeth. “What’s your name?”
“Isabel Waters.”
His smile broadens. “Isabel Waters. Pretty. I like your country accent.”
“I don’t have a country accent.” I really don’t…well, if I do, it’s not a strong one or like those annoying ones you hear on TV.”
“Yes you do.” He winks. “It’s as country as cornbread.”
“I do not,” I mutter, sort of irritated.
“Calm down, Isabel Waters. I’m only teasing. You don’t have a thick country accent, it’s very, very faint but it’s there.”
“May I talk to Mr. Knight now?”
“I’m afraid he isn’t feeling very well at the moment.”
I lean forward, gripping the edge of the polished wood. “Please…it’s imperative.”
“Mmm. Big words for a small girl.”
Bastard!
“Small brain for a big boy,” I counter.
His cheeks lift and he tosses his head to laugh. “I like you.”
I glance at the slim silver badge on his suit jacket. Harry is engraved into it. “I can’t say the same, Harry. Where are you from?”
“London.”
“Well, are all London boys this idiotic?”
He smirks, smoothing his dark hair in place. “Most. Are all southern girls this feisty?”
“Most,” I mimic. I get the feeling that Harry enjoys toying with people, but I don’t have time to fool around with him. “Harry, I really, seriously need to chat with Mr. Knight. I’m a family friend.”
“I don’t know I—”
“Please just give him a call and tell him I’m down here.”
Harry grabs the phone from the hook and presses it to his ear. He dials a number and manages to scowl at me the entire time he whispers into it. He waves a dismissive hand towards the bank of elevators, placing the phone down on its elegant cradle. “The very top floor.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Waters.”
I press the “up” button and step into the mirrored elevator. “Maybe I can take you out for Lucky Charms sometime.”
Harry makes a face in distaste right before the doors slide together. The twentieth floor is already lit. I take a step back and sag against the cool mirrored wall as I begin to ascend. I mentally prepare myself to interrogate Mr. Knight, so it’s all too soon when the doors slide apart.
Once through the massive double wooden doors, I stand in the marble foyer feeling out of place in all this stylish lavishness. My mouth is agape as I step forward. Everything is sheer magnificence and wealth from the ultra soft snow-white carpet that sinks with each step beneath my feet, to the dark and extravagant furniture and fixtures.
It doesn’t take me long to find Mr. Knight. He is dressed in a button-up shirt and loose fitting slacks and is reclined in an armchair with a short but wide glass in his hand, his fingers curling around the gleaming dark liquid. His eyes are shut and his expression is indecipherable in the moonlight.
“Mr. Knight?”
His brows lift but his eyes stay close. “Take a seat, Isabel.”
My throat constricts. I swallow loudly and sit on the leather sectional opposite of him.
He gestures to the coffee table lined with an array of crystal flasks that glint with different rich liquids. “Please, help yourself to a drink.”
“No, thank you. I’m driving.” And underage.
His brows lift again. “Humph,” he mutters, bringing the glass to his lips that are a little too full like Hunter’s and Hero’s. If Hunter and Hero is the definition of handsome, Mr. Knight is the origin of it. His longish blond hair and beard is streaked with a bit of silver gray that only adds to his beauty. His face and long body is a sculpted statue of pure perfection. My eyes drop to his white dress shirt that is mostly undone. Tanned skin and tone muscle peek through the sliver of space. Mr. Knight is nothing short of those powerful, absurdly handsome men that women fantasize about. Seeing him makes me eager for Hunter to start ageing. Like right away.
“Isabel.” His gravelly voice breaks my trance.
My eyes snap to his that twinkle like dark sapphires.
Damn!
I’ve been caught gawking at Mr. Knight.
I’m going to die a million deaths.
My entire face heats and I’m thankful that it is mostly dark inside.
He gazes back with open curiosity. “Did you come all this way to stare at me?”
“I came to…I come…” I trail off, stuttering like an idiot.
Damn him and his good looks.
His gorgeousness is scrambling my mind.
“I’m thrilled to know you came, but you look rather flustered. Are you sure I can’t offer you a drink? I have juice in the fridge.”
My throat does feel like sandpaper. I nod, licking my dry lips.
He eyes drop to my mouth before he sets his cup on the table and saunters out of my line of sight.
God, it feels like every inch of my skin is tingling.
Why am I here again...?
“Cranberry or orange?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He strolls back out with a jug of juice and two glasses. Caleb flops down beside me, placing the glasses on the table. “Orange it is, then.” He smiles over at me as he fills my glass and then his own. I sip down the refreshing juice and he quickly chooses a flask with a clear spirit, ripping the cork out with his mouth and thins his drink with it.
“Mr. Knight, I came to talk about a few things.”
He spews the cork from his mouth and knocks back the entire glass in one gulp. Then he swipes his glistening lips with the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m listening.” When he attempts to pour more liquor into his glass, I stop him and snatch the flask away. He tsks. “Am I not allowed a drink?”
“Not when you’ve already had several,” I mutter, determined.
He narrows his eyes in such a way I feel it in my core. The Knights could stop a thief with that glare. “Is my business really your concern?”
“It is when I’m with you,” I whisper.
Then something strange happens: I watch in utter fascination as his face gets soft. This is truly a sight to take in, considering his face doesn’t get soft often. He settles further into the sectional, his solemn eyes on mine. “Ask away.”
I inhale deeply. Hunter is truly his father’s son. “I found pictures of you and my mom and your brother, Smith. My dad was with Grace. The photo album was well hidden. Why would they want to conceal high school pictures?”
He shrugs. “Maybe they were ashamed.”
My brows knit. “Why would they be ashamed?”
“Who would want to willingly admit they knew us?”
“Did you and Smith date my mother?”
His eyes shift to the window that twinkles with the town’s skyline. “We loved your mother very, very much.”
“And?”
His eyes flicker back to mine. “And she was, and still is, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I miss her every fucking day.” He eyes me for a long moment. I hold my breath as he lifts a hand and sweeps my hair over my shoulder. “You look just like her. So beautiful.”
“Thank you, sir,” I murmur.
Something close to arousal flashes in his eyes. Again. There is no doubt that Hunter is his father’s son. “So what else do you want to know?”
“What happened between the four of you?”
He sighs heavily. “Smith loved your mother so much; he loved her more than his own heartbeat. He actually told me that a few times. I loved her, as well. But our love for her was on two different axles. What he thought was best for her and I what I thought were two completely different things. Smith was so intense, everything he did was extreme. He would wake with these horrible night terrors. He couldn’t sleep…until one night he snuck out the window and brought Isabelle home. He was ten and she was eight at the time. She calmed him and they slept peacefully. He’d always say it was the best sleep of his life. Isabelle and I naturally grew close and formed something extraordinary over the years that I will never forget.” He pauses and rakes his hands down his face. “So, Isabelle and I make it to Cherry Creek High. Smith was already a junior and we were only freshmen, but the entire school respected us because Smith told them to. Smith had a best friend, Ivan. They were around the same age and played football together. Ivan was irrationally in love with Grace. You couldn’t keep those two apart from one another. But what happens when the girl you can’t fucking sleep without falls in love with another that isn’t you? As you can imagine, Smith and Grace were devastated. I, on the other hand, was disappointed. Like I said, Smith’s love for Isabelle and my love for her were on two different axles. I wanted what was best for her; Smith just plain and simple wanted her.” Caleb takes a deep exhale. “We grew up. Grace and I went the Ivy route. Your mom got married and pregnant. Smith never got over her. Smith had…issues. He would call me at the strangest hours and tell me odd things. He followed her, he knew her day-to-day schedule. Before I knew it, he told me she was pregnant again. That winter break I went home to care for Smith. He was very peculiar and had these outrageous claims that Isabelle still loved him…that she wanted to be with him, that Ivan was holding her back and keeping them apart. That was very far from the truth. Isabelle was happily married with a husband and a family she adored. I don’t think she bothered to look our way…that drove Smith mad. Smith couldn’t help himself, though. He was sick and I was young and I didn’t know what to do. I should have gotten him help. But it was too late when Ivan called me.”
His eyes dim, his voice lowers to a tone that ices my skin. “Your father killed my brother. Your mom was still very pregnant at the time, and Grace and I were just beginning to torture each other, she already had given birth to Hero and Hunter was still so young. Smith was going to murder your mother if Ivan didn’t divorce her. He showed Ivan his plans and everything. Ivan killed him.” Wetness rolls down his cheeks. “He murdered my brother, who was ill and I helped bury his body. Let’s face it, the south is the south as injustice as it is and Ivan would’ve got the death penalty. Ivan and Isabelle didn’t deserve that after what my brother put them through. I was so fucking broken, I told Grace everything. She told me she had a plan. She told me it was the only way.” He takes a huge lungful of air. “Grace…she made your mother give up one of her babies to restore some stupid fucking balance.”
My entire world starts to spin, but Caleb keeps on talking. “My mama didn’t give up one of her babies.”
He nods. “Yes, she did. Isabelle was pregnant with twins the second time around.”
All the breath leaves my body as his words sink in. “Naya?”
He nods again, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “She looks just like you…just like Isabelle.”
Fury and bile rises in my throat. “So you beat you wife and kids because you can’t live the fact you let your brother down.”
His brows furrow as his gaze locks on mine. “I’ve never laid a hand on my children. And what I did to Grace, she wanted it. It’s all an illusion, Isabel. I’m no woman beater. Grace begged me to manhandle her. I knew that Hunter saw a scene and got the wrong idea. We always played rough, but I never broke her bones and she never had any hospital visits. Grace loved every fucking second of it. She’s the one who begged me to do it.”
“You didn’t beat your wife?”
He makes a face. “Not in the manner you think. I would never harm Grace or my children. I am a weak man when it comes to my desire, but I would never stoop as low as you may think.”
“Then why is Naya’s back—”
Caleb’s head jerks back, his forehead creasing, his eyes narrowing. “Wait. What’s wrong with her back?”
“I think your children are in trouble Mr. Knight. I don’t think they’re safe with Grace.”
I’m startled when he jolts up. “Fucking Grace! I’m getting them right now. RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” He dashes off within the dark confines of his plush penthouse and then returns with a set of keys.
“Mr. Knight, you’re in no condition to drive. Let me take you where you need to be.”