Things We Hide from the Light (Knockemout, #2)

by Lucy Score

“We weren’t having sex and we definitely never will. You could have talked to me about it,” I said to Knox.

“So Lucian was technically right and you’re still mad at him?” Naomi asked. Nash’s answer was an irritated shrug.

“I blame you,” Knox and Naomi said at the same time. They grinned at each other.

“My job is to protect you, dumbass. And you are one point five seconds away from having your face punched in by a very angry woman.”

“As your friend, I can’t in good conscience let you get a roach-borne disease when there’s a perfectly nice, clean apartment available to you,” Naomi insisted. “I’d rather live with roaches than next door to Nash.”

“I liked him,” I confessed. “I really liked him. He made me feel like I was special and not in the weird cardiac-arrest-in-front-of-everyone way.

And then along came you and you gave him something to care enough about to get mad.”

“Friends make friends better. We accept the bad parts, celebrate the good parts, and we don’t torture you for your mistakes,” Naomi said.

“But I think you should know that I’m hugging you in my mind.”

What you do or have and how you feel are two separate constructs. For instance, people will say ‘I want a million dollars,’ but what they really want is to feel financially secure.”

Do you think you could pretend to be sober for as long as it takes Knox to drive down here and pick you up?” They exchanged glances, then shook their heads and dissolved into giggles.

“I threw a bag of dog poop I found on the sidewalk at him.” Naomi preened.

“And I yelled and flashed him my boobs,” Sloane announced proudly.

“Why are you calling? Aren’t we pissed at each other?”

This is why I liked being friends with men. It was just easier.

When Nash Morgan shined his flashlight in my eyes, I knew this was not my night.

“The only thing he’s guilty of besides hacking into state databases is having pointy elbows.”

She kept saying things like that. Things that were technically true.

But despite the fact that I was furious with her, that I’d insisted I was done with her, I needed to know she was okay.

“I need you—” “I don’t want to need you, but I do,” I said, nuzzling my face into the silky smooth skin of her neck. “Damn it, Nash,” she breathed. “I need you to back up and let me breathe.”

It was the please that damned me. I would give her anything, as long as she gave me everything.

“I don’t know how long I can fight this,” I confessed. She leveled me with a look. “Try harder.”

“Pulled you over going fourteen over the limit,” I reminded her. She was so mad she sputtered. “You…you…”

“He bruised her. You’re the asshole who hurt her.”

“If anyone should be kickin’ anyone’s ass, it’s me kickin’ your ass for messin’ with her head. She’s my friend.”

“Great. Now you’re gettin’ me in trouble,” he complained.

“What do you think I did? I pulled her ass over and gave her a speeding ticket and a ration of shit.” He was silent for a long beat and then said, “You’re usually better with women than this.”

“I was working through some shit, okay?” “Yeah, well, so am I.”

Leaving? Absolutely fucking not.

Ask them once they sober up and leave me the hell out of it.”

“Jesus. No more girls’ nights out. From now on, the three of them go out together, it’s with a goddamn escort.” “Agreed.”

“No more fighting,” Naomi said regally. Then she hiccupped.

Okay, maybe, like, ten percent interest. Fine. Forty percent tops.

Nash seemed to have finally gotten the message that he didn’t exist. After three days of me refusing to answer my door or my phone, he’d stopped knocking and calling.

“He did the hand on the lower back thing when we walked into the restaurant.” “That’s hot.” “So hot,”

“I’m sure you were driving the speed limit.” “That’s not the point.”

“Bite me, heart eyes.”

“Once I wrap this investigation, we’ll never have to see each other again.”

“Then why does it feel so right to touch you?” he rasped.

And so would I. Ha. Solid inner monologue dick joke.

Sometimes the body recognizes what the head and heart are too stupid to see.

“Fuckin’ Dilton. One bad cop is all it takes.”

Her nephew has autism.” “Sure, yeah. I know Alex.”

All of them. Especially the ones who can’t talk back.

Maybe we could bring Naomi Witt into it since she’s community outreach coordinator.”

Max would take my order when she was good and ready,

So much for my professional anonymity…and pesky things like the truth.

So that was Tate Dilton, disgraced bad cop and good ol’ boy.

“You’re Morgan’s bitch,

“No. Are you?” I asked sweetly.