Knox:
The club was alive, but I wasn’t in the mood to feel it.
Music blared. Boots hit the floor. Laughter echoed from the pool table to the bar. Beers were passed around, someone lit a cigar, and a pair of the younger guys were yelling at the TV over a playoff game no one gave a damn about.
And I was just… standing there.
Sulking, apparently.
I didn’t realize how obvious it was until the Prez walked up, dropped a hand on my shoulder, and muttered, “Get that damn look off your face, Knox. You’re killin’ the vibe.”
I turned, gave him a lazy shrug. “Just tired.”
He snorted. “Bullshit. You’ve been pacing holes in the floor for days.”
Wasn’t gonna argue. He was right.
“I need you with your boots on the ground,” he said, tapping his knuckles against my chest. “Not floating in some fant
