Page 40 of Tempting the Player
Archer stands and pulls a card from his pocket, then holds it out to me. “He’s paparazzi. He was trying to get some photos of her.”
I snatch the card and read it three times before my brain catches up. “Did he get any?”
They share another look that has my blood pressure shooting through the roof. “Did he get pictures of her today while she was running from him?”
The last fucking thing she needs after she finds out who was following her is to see pictures of it splashed across tomorrow’s news.
“I don’t know,” Brogan says finally. “We didn’t think to ask.”
“We can go back.” Archer stands, but I hold up a hand.
“I’ll deal with it later.” I close my fist around the card, then shove it into my pocket. A million thoughts race through my brain. I walk into the kitchen and then brace myself on the counter.
Archer and Brogan start up video games, and Flynn goes to his room.
“Still leaving tomorrow?” Knox asks quietly as he sets a plate with pasta and chicken in front of me. The fucker smiles all cocky and deliberate. “It’s cool. I could watch her while you’re gone.”
He’s purposely goading me, and I don’t have the energy to fight, so I flip him off and take the plate of food to my room.
I hesitate, wondering if I should knock, but ultimately open the door slowly and peer in before stepping inside. Jane’s laying on my bed, head resting on my pillow, curled up on her side asleep. I pad in quietly and set the plate on the nightstand, then stare down at her. She’s going to be upset when she finds out the guy following her was paparazzi. Maybe it’s better that she sleeps first.
* * *
Archer and Brogan leave after dinner and Flynn does his usual disappearing act back to his room. I don’t know where Knox went, but I find myself needing some sort of release and end up back out in the garage to hit the bag.
That’s where I find Knox. He’s hitting the bag, hands unwrapped, in quick, short jabs. Beads of sweat dot his forehead and he stares like a lethal machine straight ahead at the target.
When the garage door shuts behind me, he pauses and glances back in my direction.
“Guess we had the same idea,” I say, and toss my wraps onto the workbench that runs along the far wall of the garage. “I’m gonna go for a run. If she wakes up, text me. I won’t go far.”
“Or you could stay.” He stands tall and a wicked grin curls his lips. “When’s the last time you hit something besides a fucking bag?”
It’s been ages since I sparred, and nobody’s ever been as good a competitor as Knox. Not that I’d ever tell him that.
“You’re fucking on.”
I pick up the wraps and quickly get my hands ready to go. Knox doesn’t bother. I eye his hands with a smirk. “I have a pretty fucking hard head. Might want to reconsider.”
“I welcome the pain.” He shuffles in front of me, eyeing me up like he’s really taking in the differences in my body since I left for the first time.
I’m taller, broader, and stronger than I was the last time we did this, but then again, so is he.
Knox’s body is leaner and more sculpted than mine. I’ve got him by a few inches in the way of height, but not enough for a real advantage. Besides, he’s always been deceptively strong and he’s not afraid to get hit, which makes him either stupid or scary, depending on your perspective.
“Not too late to back out,” I goad him as I puff out my chest. “I wouldn’t blame you.”
I barely get the last word out before he strikes. A pleased chuckle rumbles in my chest. And we’re off.
My smile is gone quick as I concentrate on dodging his punches and trying to land a few of my own. Knox lands a liver hook, then steps and adds a right low kick.
“You’re rusty, Henny.”
Don’t I know it. Sweat drips into my eyes and burns, but I don’t have a second to wipe it before he aims a left hook to the head. He’s fucking with me. Landing his punches and kicks but not putting anything behind them. He wants me to know he can increase the intensity any time he wants. We never go full out, but seventy-five percent of Knox’s wrath is fucking plenty.
I attempt a foot sweep, not really trying to take him down but distract him, which I pull off, then surprise him with a darting cross.
“Fuck. I can’t believe I fell for that,” he mumbles as he steps back, putting some distance between us.
