Page 15 of Knockout Queen

“Remember when I said people should be taking care of you now.”

I gaze up at him. “Yeah, that was before K shot you.”

He smirks, and little-by-little, he starts to relax. I don’t know if it’s the painkillers kicking in or if lying with me is calming him down. Hopefully, it’s a bit of both. “I can’t believe I had to get shot for you to lay with me like this.”

I smile into his side. “I’ll lay with you whenever you want.”

He tucks his phone near his thigh after watching the footage and shifts toward me. He lowers his lips to mine, kissing me softly for a couple of beats before resting his head back against the throw pillow he shoved under his neck.

“Did you get Cole back to the Heights, too?”

Mag nods. “He’ll call when he hears something.”

“K isn’t going to just sit back.”

“All the better,” Mag says. “Both sides working on it means we’ll find something sooner rather than later.”

“They’re torturing him,” I say, trying not to think about the video replay I saw but failing.

“I saw.” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat.

“K won’t trust any of us anymore.”

“This is the gang life, Kyla. He issued his punishment to me, which means it’s done. It’s not you he’s mad at, technically. It’s what you’re doing to Johnny. He’s afraid. He’s acting out. He’ll get his shit together, and tomorrow, everyone will be on deck to do whatever we can to find Johnny.”

“Except he shot you.”

He squeezes my arm. “He knew what he was doing. The wound is superficial at best. It’s just a reminder of the stakes for everyone.”

No one needs reminding. Not when we just lived through what we did, only to have the people who are supposedly on our side turn on us, too. I’m no gang expert, but I can’t imagine this kind of ruthless tyranny will last forever.

Instead of fighting against Gregory, maybe we need to be working with him.

7

Something stirs my hair, and I blink awake. It takes me all of a half second to remember where I am and what happened.

I peek up to find Magnum staring at me, a soft smile curving his lips.

“You’re awake?”

He nods, then reaches up to run his fingers through my hair.

“Why didn’t you wake me? I’m supposed to be watching over you.”

“We can agree to disagree,” he says. His hazel green eyes are laser focused, sharp. His intense stare awakens my nerve endings.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

I start to sit up, but he pulls me back down. “I just need you. Here.”

My lips buzz. I peek at his mouth and then move back to his eyes. He certainly looks like he’s fine. He’s not grimacing in pain anymore. I lift his shirt, revealing his tight abs and flexed muscles. He’s kicked his pants all the way off, and his boxer briefs are dangerously low and tight over the bulge of his cock.

I tear my gaze away from all the fun stuff and glance at his bandage. There’s a blotch of darker coloring from the red underneath, but it’s only the size of a nickel. Maybe what he said earlier is right. K knew what he was doing, and he only shot him for attention, not to really hurt him.

“It’s fine,” Mag says. He places his finger under my chin and lifts my face to peer into my eyes again. He frowns as his gaze snags on the area just below. “I don’t want you worrying about me.” He brushes his fingers along the edges of what must be the bruising on my face. It stings a little. We must be a sight. I look like I got my ass kicked—because I did—and Mag’s been shot.

I delve my fingers under his shirt and into his coarse chest hair. The copper trail leading from his belly button to his chest stands out in contrast to his pale skin.

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