Page 1 of Jax & Knox

ONE

AINSLEY REED

The first blow catches me across the cheekbone.

I don't see it coming, I never do, but I feel the explosion of pain that radiates through my skull like a lightning strike. My head snaps to the side and I stumble backward, catching myself on the kitchen counter. The edge digs into my lower back, sharp and unforgiving, but it's nothing compared to the throbbing in my face.

"You think you can just ignore me?" Justin's voice is low, controlled. That's the worst part. He never yells. Never loses his composure. He's a cop, after all. Cops don't lose control. They enforce it.

I press my palm against my cheek, feeling the heat already blooming under my skin. My eyes water but I blink the tears back. Crying only makes it worse.

"I wasn't ignoring you," I say quietly, keeping my voice steady. "I was feeding Owen. He was⁠⁠—"

"Don't." He steps closer, his uniform still crisp and pressed, his badge gleaming under the kitchen light. He looks every inch the upstanding officer. Clean-cut. Respectable. A pillar of the fucking community. "Don't make excuses. You know what pisses me off more than you ignoring me? You lying about it."

"I'm not lying⁠.”

His hand shoots out and grabs my jaw, fingers digging into the tender flesh. He forces my head up, making me look at him. His eyes are cold. Empty. Like looking into the void.

"You calling me a liar, Ainsley?"

My heart hammers against my ribs. "No."

"No, what ?"

I swallow hard, tasting copper. I must've bitten my tongue. "No, sir."

He smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "That's my good girl."

Then he shoves me backward. I catch myself again, this time against the refrigerator. The magnets, cheap plastic letters Owen likes to play with, clatter to the floor.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" Justin adjusts his duty belt, checking his gun, his taser, his cuffs. All the tools of his trade. All the things that make him untouchable. "A fucking embarrassment. Can't even keep the house clean. Can't keep yourself together. Look at you."

I don't look. I know what I'd see. Greasy hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Dark circles under my eyes. The same oversized hoodie I've been wearing for three days because it hides the bruises. The stretch marks on my stomach that he loves to point out whenever he wants to remind me that no one else would ever want me.

"You're lucky I keep you around," he continues, his tone almost conversational now. Like we're discussing the weather. "Lucky I didn't kick your ass to the curb the second you got knocked up. You think anyone else would put up with your shit? With his shit?" He jerks his chin toward the hallway, where Owen's room is.

My hands curl into fists at my sides. I can take a lot. I've taken a lot. But he doesn't get to talk about my son.

"Don't," I whisper.

Justin's eyes narrow. "Don't what?"

"Don't talk about Owen."

For a second, I think he's going to hit me again. His jaw tightens, his shoulders tense. But then he laughs, a short, sharp bark of sound that makes my skin crawl.

"You've got some balls, I'll give you that." He steps closer, invading my space, and I can smell his cologne. Expensive. The kind that comes in a black bottle with a fancy name. He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "But you better remember who's in charge here, Ainsley. You and that kid? You're mine. And if you ever try to leave me, I will fucking end you. Understand?"

I nod. It's all I can do.

"Good." He straightens, smoothing down his uniform shirt. "I've got the night shift. I'll be back in the morning. And when I get home, this place better be spotless. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

He grabs his keys from the counter, checks his phone, and heads for the door. He pauses in the doorway, glancing back at me with that same empty smile.

"Oh, and Ainsley? If you even think about calling anyone, remember, I'm a cop. Who do you think they're going to believe?"