Page 124 of Knox

“You came to see AJ. Tried to scare him,” Russell said, a slight accent to his voice. His dark hair hung uncut and greasy, tucked behind his ears. Graying, colorless tats squirreled up his forearms.

The thought of this man beating…raping…

Knox fought to keep his breathing even, to think. “Clearly not enough. I heard you were dead.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t believe everything you hear.”

Apparently.

And from the nearby backstage wing he heard the last of Kelsey’s song.

So I will trust you, I’ll give us a try.

Take my love baby, please don’t let it die

There is no tomorrow, not without you.

“I’m not going to let you hurt her again.”

“This thing will shoot right through your champion bull here, no problem, and come out the other side.” He pointed the rifle at Knox, through Gordo.

Knox drew in a quick breath, but kept his voice cool, even. “Go ahead and try, buddy. But I can promise that both Gordo and I are tougher than you think—” With a shout, he exploded. He hit the cage to scare Gordo and dove for the floor.

A shot flared off.

He rolled, came up hot a few feet away from Russell.

Knox couldn’t look toward the pen—just launched himself at Russell.

Russell was already crumpling. Knox landed on top of him even as Russell slammed the butt of his gun into his shoulder.

The hit barely registered, not with all the rage behind Knox’s punch. He slammed his fist into Russell’s face, saw the man’s head snap back. Reared back for another.

Someone caught his wrist. “Knox! He’s down!”

“Not down enough!” But hands came around his shoulders, jerked him back, and he landed on the floor. Watched as a security guard retrieved the rifle, as Tate grabbed Russell and jerked him over, onto his stomach.

The man had been shot in the leg. Not a life-threatening wound, but enough to slow him down.

Tate had a knee in his back, and the first guard handed him a zip tie.

Knox was breathing hard. “You got my message?”

“No. I saw you from backstage, all lit up and dangerous as you took off.”

Knox scrambled to his feet, but his head rushed with the adrenaline of the moment, and he had to lean over, grab Gordo’s pen.

The bull looked over at him, nudging his hand with his snout, unhurt.

Knox could have wept with relief except— “Did Kelsey see?”

“I don’t know.”

Tate handed off Russell to his other security guard as two more arrived.

“He needs medical help. And call 9-1-1. He’s a fugitive.”

Tate looked at Knox. A slow smile spread across his face. “Would you like a backstage pass?”