Her Name Is Knight (Nena Knight, #1)

by Yasmin Angoe

Memory is both a gift and a curse.

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But even the most honorable of men have an enemy or two. Tonight, those enemies have arrived with guns. With machetes. And with bloodlust as ravenous and destructive as a wildfire that will consume us all.

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One of them threatened to rape the girl. Why was the first thing men resorted to exacting dominance over women through violation or defilement? Why did it always have to be rape? Because, Nena thought mirthlessly, that was all these types of males knew.

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All that is good about him, Papa gifts to me in that moment. There is only your before and your after. How many times have my brothers and I heard this and not known what Papa had meant? It is what you do after that matters.

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Death and violence are my legacies.

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“Mon amour.” That she did know. My love. Pleasure sizzled through her. She had a new name, and that name was love.

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“What are you doing?” I say. The man has lost his senses. “Looking for the rose petals and African drums.” He grins. “I mean, the king of Zamunda has arrived, right?” All I can do is look at him. Perhaps this meeting was not my best idea. “Zamunda?” Keigel repeats slowly, his eyes incredulous that I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Coming to America? Come on now, Eddie Murphy? Arsenio Hall?” I shake my head as if clueless. To increase my horror, Keigel breaks out in song. “Just let your soul-l-l glo-o-o.” His voice cracks, but his smile is wide and proud. “Is that a religious sect?” I ask. The nearest guard overhears us, and his shoulders shake from his laughter. “Sexual chocolate!” Keigel blurts suddenly, startling me. I’m beginning to worry he is unwell.

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“I can do this by myself.” “Doesn’t mean you should,” he said, unmoved. “It’s okay to accept help once in a while, you know. You got people, girl. I’m your people.”

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