Page 24 of Knox
So, “What does she look like?”
“She’s the brunette. Long brown hair with a feather in it, brown T-shirt, turquoise boots.”
Oh, that one. Yeah, Tate had seen her picture on the screen only about a billion and a half times over the past weekend. Pretty pale blue eyes, a smile that could make a man forget his name. Other men. Not Knox.
Big bro hadn’t gone out with a girl since Chelsea had dropped him like a brick and headed out of town.
He could have told Knox that Chelsea was trouble. The girl lived a few different lives—the cheerleader version that Reuben fell in love with—poor guy. The girl-failing-calculus who went after Knox for his brains. Knox had been so over the moon with the most gorgeous girl in school, he hadn’t stopped to think through what stealing Reuben’s girlfriend might mean for the family.
And then there was the version Tate knew. The party girl who showed up with a smile for any guy with a six-pack of Budweiser. Neither brother knew, probably, that she didn’t know the meaning of the wordexclusive. Tate couldn’t count how many times he’d watched Chelsea climb into the back of a pickup with one of his buddies.
Not him. He wasn’t stupid. Reuben could take him out with one punch.
Then.
Now, they’d have a decent go-round, thanks to the moves Yuri had taught him. After three years working on Yuri Malovich’s “security” crew, Tate might actually stand a chance against his smokejumper, tough-as-nails big brother, but the lessons learned watching Chelsea stuck in his brain.
Girls were trouble. Sometimes a good kind of trouble, but not worth the time and energy that came with chasing them down for datenumero dos.
But Knox didn’t think that way, which meant that he’d probably done something stupid like given this girl his heart. Probably the moment they shook hands.
“Her name’s Kelsey. I need to know if she’s okay,” Knox said as the tech took his blood pressure.
Tate didn’t want to stick around for the expression on the EMT’s face when those results came in. He patted Knox on the shoulder. “I got this, bro.”
Keep it light, no problem, but his throat was thick as he moved away into the grouping of rescue vehicles. Fire engines, ambulances, rescue trucks, and so many police cars they clogged the parking lot. He spied Rafe Noble standing with his arms crossed as he watched his little girl being loaded into one of the rigs.
He ran over. “How is she?”
Rafe’s wife climbed in beside her daughter, holding her hand. Rafe’s face betrayed the wreckage of his fear. “It didn’t hit a major artery or vein, so—” He lifted a shoulder, glanced at Tate. “Knox is your brother?”
Tate nodded.
“Tell him that if he needs anything, anytime…” He swallowed. “He saved my daughter’s life tonight.” He pressed his hand over his mouth, shook his head as the EMT tech closed the door. Turned away and jogged, then sprinted over to a truck parked under tall lights.
The ambulance pulled away, sirens screaming.
Tate turned to scan the area for Kelsey. Surely she was in one of the other ambulances—although she’d seemed okay as she scrambled free.
He spotted a blonde standing in front of a closed ambulance, doing something on her smartphone, and jogged over to her.
A spur of recognition—yeah, she was one of the Belles.
“Hey,” he said.
She looked up, a tiny pinch of annoyance to her mouth. Her pretty mouth. And hazel-green eyes that raked over him, assessing.
“I’m looking for someone named Kelsey Jones?”
She put the phone in her pocket. “Why?”
He frowned. “I want to talk to her. To see if she’s okay.”
The blonde studied him, head to toe, then shook her head. “I don’t think so, pal.”
Now he studied her. Short, but with curves and white-blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless leather number, and a red tattoo curled from her shoulder, around her front, a tangle of flowers. Except the stress of the past few hours had smudged the tattoo, so probably paint.
But it gave her a sort of war-torn toughness, all that leather and blonde hair and sass and the way she looked him over…