Free KNOX: Volume 1 by Cassia Leo Page B

father to have me essentially kidnapped and forced to meet with him, he must be desperate.
    My summer sandals crunch on the gravelly pavement as someone grips my forearm and guides me forward. A door creaks open and I’m blasted with a cool gust of air-conditioned air. The smell of rubber and grease stings the inside of my nostrils as I’m pulled farther inside this new environment.
    The whoosh of another door opening.
    More walking.
    Stop.
    Is he here?
    Silence.
    “Brace yourself, kid.” This warning issued by the guy on my right feels more ominous than it should. It’s just my father in there, isn’t it?
    The silk hood is slipped off my head and we’re standing in the middle of a wide garage with hydraulic lifts and tires and an assortment of equipment for repairing cars. But there are no cars in this garage. One person stands about ten feet away from me, facing me.
    And it’s not my father.

4

    His dark suit is perfectly tailored to his athletic body. He stands straight, with his arms clasped behind his back. His smooth skin and the shadow of hair along his jawline scream perfectionist. But the gleam in his blue eyes is deadly. It’s a look that could make me divulge my darkest secrets. Like what I saw in my living room ten years ago.
    His gaze slides from my face, downward, examining every inch of my body. None of his buffoons searched me for weapons, but they don’t need to. And he knows that. His eyes settle on mine again and I see a hint of a smile curling his lips. And, what gorgeous lips they are. The perfect peaks and fullness with just a hint of natural sheen.
    What is wrong with me?
    This guy practically kidnaps me and I’m fantasizing about his perfect skin and his lips. I’m clearly in shock or something. Especially when his lips have got nothing on his electric blue eyes.
    “Do you know who I am?”
    His voice is limber and gruff all at once; a low growl wrapped in silk. I open my mouth to speak and find that I’m not breathing. I draw in a deep breath then clear my throat. He looks impatient with me already.
    “No.”
    I don’t offer anything else. No desperate pleas for my release or indignant demands to know what is going on. Something tells me this guy has seen both of those reactions a thousand times. And he’s not easily swayed.
    His perfect dark hair flutters a bit under the air conditioning as he slowly walks toward me. I glance behind me; a nervous reaction. That’s when I realize we are all alone. The two guys in the car have left the garage.
    “Do you know why you’re here?”
    I want to say, “ Because you’re an asshole ,” but that would be far too self-indulgent.
    “No.”
    He raises an eyebrow and that tiny hint of a smile widens just a bit. “One-word answers. Your father taught you well.”
    Suddenly, my blood is boiling. My father didn’t teach me squat. And I want to remind this guy of that. Until I remember that my father did teach me something about being interrogated.
    “Obviously, your father isn’t here,” he says, walking around me, his arm brushing against my shoulder. “But he is waiting for you at another location. I just need to ask you a few questions before I take you to him.” He’s behind me and so close the heat of his breath is on my neck. “Let me start off by introducing myself. I’m Knox Savage.”
    Knox Savage? Where have I heard that name before?
    He lets out a gruff chuckle and his breath tickles the hairs on my neck, sending a chill through me. “You don’t know me, so don’t bother sifting through those pretty little thoughts.”
    “Pretty thoughts?”
    Crap! One-word answers, Becky! Don’t let him get to you.
    He rounds me so I can see him, but he faces away from me as he pretends to look around the empty garage. I get a strange urge to bite the back of his strong neck, which only makes me think of August. Who knows what he’s up to? Probably sitting in the café writing about the advantages of wool socks over cotton. Maybe