Page 53 of Knox
He let the memory linger between them, a view from a Ferris wheel.
“Your barn reminds me of the farm where I grew up in Minnesota. Dad was a dairy farmer.”
“Hence your love for cheese curds.”
She laughed. “Yeah. I really missed the farm after…” Her face turned solemn. “My parents were murdered in New York City when I was fourteen.”
He stilled but didn’t move his gaze from her face.
She, however, looked down at her hands. “You’re the second Marshall I’ve told that to.”
He tried to ignore the spur inside him. Nice. So Tate knew more about her than he did. But he said nothing, just nodded.
“I don’t know why, but the explosion has sort of brought all of it back to the surface.”
“The loss of your parents?”
She looked up at him. “And the fact that now I’ve nearly been killed twice. Randomly.”
He frowned.
She wrapped her arms around her legs drawn up on the chair. “I was with my parents when they were murdered. We had gone to New York City for my birthday to seeThe Lion Kingon Broadway and decided to take a walk through Central Park after the show. They came out of nowhere. Just—one minute we’re walking under a bridge, the next a thug has his arms around my mother and is demanding money from my dad.” She looked out the window. “He would have given them anything, but then my mom broke free and took off. The guy pushed her, and she slammed into a rock on the path and just…” She sighed. “Anyway, my dad jumped one of them and told me to run. All I remember is my dad shouting at me, hands grabbing me, then the horror of listening to the fight—fists on bone, him swearing and grunting and shouting my name as they beat him.”
“They?”
She let out a shaky breath. “Three men. But there was a leader—a man named Vince Russell. They were all caught, and no one could determine who was the actual murderer, but one of the other gang members testified against him so he got twenty years. He only served twelve.”
“That’s not enough.”
“I agree.” She leaned back against the chair. “Especially since they beat me and left me for dead.”
His entire body went still, her words a punch dead center in his chest. He tried not to gulp for air, but really, he couldn’t breathe. Just stared at her.
No, don’t do that.He tore his gaze away, his throat tightening.
She drew her sleeves down over her hands. “A jogger’s dog found me.”
He moaned. “Oh, Kelsey. I’m so sorry.” His voice came out soft, and it took everything inside him not to crouch before her and pull her into his arms, mostly for himself.
Because the crazy, inane urge to dosomethingcharged through him, turned him edgy and hot.
She looked up at him. “I’m okay. But that’s why sometimes I get freaked out. And why I wanted to just put everything behind me. Like the explosion.”
Right.
Because he didn’t know how he would live with the emotions, the rage, the frustration simmering inside him but to walk away.
“And that included me,” he said gently. “I really did get it, you know. The need to walk away.”
She studied him for a moment. “Who are you, Knox Marshall, that you’re so nice to me?”
He blinked at her, not understanding, really, the question. “I’m not…I just…” He wasn’t kind. He was just…well, of course, and why not? The easy answer was because he wanted to. But that sounded lame and even a little desperate.
And even worse was…because he liked to see her smile. Oh brother.
But as if she might be confirming his unspoken answer, she turned to him, her eyes soft, a slight smile tipping her lips. “Okay. You don’t have to answer. But…thanks for being so nice.”
Nice.