Page 73 of Brutal Knight

It felt monumental, this step, but I straightened my back and held my head high: I wasn’t afraid of Knight.

He'd already done his worst; he could never hurt me any more than he’d already had.

Leaving the phone, shoes, and keys outside the door, I stepped into plush carpet, feeling the weight of a thousand female warriors on my shoulders.

I was coming to him but that didn't mean I was opening myself up to him.

If he was tired, he might tell me something that I could use against him. Or maybe he'd be too tired to fight me off, and I could blow his head apart with his own gun, which I was sure was tucked somewhere in his bed. If there was no gun, a pillow would do.

That's why I was sliding under soft, cashmere blankets and in between sage, sateen sheets, allowing him to throw an arm around my neck and bury his face in the crook of it. Not because my heart was pounding, my skin prickling with anticipation, or because my chest was awash with a warmth that only could be produced whenhewas near.

He inhaled a deep breath, nuzzling against my skin with his nose. "Mmm," he murmured, the dark rumble of his tired voice skimming over my skin like electricity. "You smell good."

I exhaled in surprise and a scoff. "I haven't showered."

A shoulder moved. "Doesn’t matter. You always smelled like home to me."

I hated the warmth suffocating my chest. How it washed through my whole body, making my fingers and toes tingle with contentment.

Home.

Funny, that's how I'd always felt with him as a kid. Not with my parents, at our own house, but always,always, with him.

Where I'd been safe. Protected.

Until I wasn't.

His fingers trickled over my collar. "Where's your necklace? Did you take it off?" I hated that I cared about the pain lanced in his voice.

I shook my head, staring up at the ceiling because I couldn't dare look into his beautiful, sleepy face. "They took it, when they took me."

He didn’t answer and, after a moment, there was soft breathing on my neck. Then, just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, “Who took you, Tatiana?"

I was torn between revealing the truth. I shouldn't have had any allegiance to Antonio but I couldn’t help but feel somewhat protective over him. He'd only been acting on his boss' orders, plus he had protected me from the other men. I had no illusions about how much worse it could've been back there.

Besides, vengeance was mine to dole out.

I was going to track that motherfucker down and force him to tell me who'd ordered that, or Antonio would lose his dick.

"Just someone who shouldn't have."

Knight didn't press for more information but softly traced over my collar and I grabbed his wrist, my fingers moving over the tip of one of his amputated fingers, something I’d always wanted to do since he returned from Russia, where he’d been held prisoner. “Does it ever hurt?”

He paused, thinking, then softly, “Sometimes.”

I kissed it. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“I’m not. Trying to keep Rose safe was worth it.”

Rose was the new mafia boss’ wife, and Knight had gone after her when she’d been kidnapped. He’d gone, knowing it could mean certain death for him. Yet, he’d done it anyway.

Because that was the kind of man Knight was.

I clasped his hand to my chest, my fingers still tracing over his, trying to contain the whirling, oppressive emotions inside me.

This was the man I’d fallen in love with, so many years ago. The man who cared about others, who put his life at risk for those he loved.

The man who killed because they’d hurt me.

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