Page 90 of Knight
“The Serpents,” Knight said flatly. “They want me to come back.”
My heart lurched as I pulled the screen door open. “You can’t!”
“Somebody needs to tell them that,” he muttered as we stepped inside.
“Knight, promise me you won’t go back to them,” I said, fear trickling through me.
He’d just told me how he feared going back. If this was how they invited him, it was no wonder.
“I won’t.” He collapsed onto the couch with a pained grunt. “I wouldn’t leave you, Angel.”
“Angel?” Flynn murmured.
My insides flipped. “It’s not about me. You’re not that guy anymore.”
“Nobody told them that,” Knight said grimly, shifting with a wince. He’d taken more than a punch to the face by the looks of things.
“Hold that thought. I’ll get the first aid kit.”
I retreated to my bedroom to grab medical supplies. When I returned, Flynn was crouched by Knight talking quietly and intensely.
Knight was shaking his head. “Can’t drag anyone else into it. These guys are dangerous.”
“Then let me call Dalton,” he insisted. “He can put out an APB for them if they show up here again.”
Knight looked conflicted. His gaze caught mine as I approached. “What’s that amazing smell?”
He was obviously changing the subject on purpose, but the guy had been through enough for one night. We could talk sense into him after he’d rested.
“I made you dinner for a change,” I said. “Chicken-mushroom ravioli.”
“My mouth is watering.” He dabbed at the bloody cut on his lip. “I hope I can eat.”
“Let me clean you up and we’ll see, okay?”
His eyes held mine. “I just need some ice. I’m fine.”
“He wouldn’t let me take him to the ER,” Flynn said. “But they kicked the shit out of him.”
I didn’t like the bruising at his temple, so I pulled out a penlight. “Just hold still,” I murmured as I leaned forward to shine it into each eye. “Pupils are equal and reactive. No obvious head trauma. But you’d need a CT to know for sure?—”
“I’m good,” Knight said. “I didn’t hit my head that hard. I’d know.”
I nodded. “No dizziness? Nausea?”
“No.”
Flynn frowned, a crease of worry between his eyebrows. “I still don’t like it. He could have a concussion.”
“Aiden can watch me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I can, huh?”
He looked beaten and vulnerable. “Uh, please? I’m sore and tired, but I’ll live. I promise.”
I couldn’t refuse that plea. “Fine. I’ll keep an eye on you tonight, but if I think at any point that it’s necessary?—”
“I won’t argue,” he promised.
