Page 82 of Knox

A text from AJ Russell, four providential words.

My brother is dead.

He stared at the screen, blinking. Walked out of the pantry as he texted back.How?

The return text came almost immediately.Murdered. Found this morning in Bronx River. Dead three days.

Which meant he couldn’t have possibly been in Montana, firebombing the Yankee Belles’ trailer.

He pocketed the phone. Turned.

Glo—and the cookie jar—had vanished.

But she’d left him a sugar cookie on the counter.

We need to talk.Four easy words, but Knox couldn’t seem to get them to emerge from his mouth as he sat on the sofa, the remote control in his hand, eyes glued to the Blue Ox hockey game.

At least they were winning. And, on their last game of the regular season, which meant a few days off for Wyatt.

He just might make it home for the big day next week.

Knox glanced at Kelsey, curled up in the recliner, just as avidly staring at the game. He wanted her to meet his siblings, for them to see how talented and brave and amazing she was.

But of course, no one would know that, really, because she wore nothing of the past on her face. He couldn’t fathom how the battered face and body in the pictures had turned out to be the beautiful Kelsey Jones.

It was all he’d been able to think about for the past eight hours. No, more. How had she put herself back together again?

Except, maybe she hadn’t. Not to the naked eye, but if he were honest, he’d seen the cracks. A few quiet moments of sheer panic in between her stage presence.

But give the girl some grace—she’d nearly been crushed in an explosion. And it made perfect sense why she hadn’t wanted to face him after that.

But why had she left the ranch? Had she been planning on returning?

What about their kiss?

What if she didn’t want to remember that? Frankly, all the questions simply had his brain in a knot—

“Thank you for showing up at Ben’s place.”

Her voice was so quiet he nearly didn’t hear it over the game announcer, but he looked at her, and she met his eyes, a soft smile tugging at her mouth. “I didn’t expect you, and there you were, showing up.”

He nodded, his chest thick.

“Where did you go for the last four days?”

Oh. Shoot.

But she deserved to know that he’d been hunting for Russell. And frankly, deserved to know that he knew about…well, more than even what Tate had told her.

He’d entered her pain, seen it up close, and admired the heck out of her that she’d overcome it. So he held on to that and turned to her.

“I was in New York City.”

Her smile fell, and she simply blinked at him, absorbing his words slowly.

He nodded. “I know about Russell and the fact he’s out of prison. And that you think he might be the one who bombed you, twice.”

She drew in a breath, and he could nearly see her closing up, so he delivered the rest quickly.