Princess Wrapped in Leather

Chapter 12

Hank

The call from Knox comes through at 1:37 AM, and my blood goes cold the second I see his name on the screen.

Knox doesn't call me in the middle of the night unless something's wrong.

I answer before the second ring. "Knox. What's wrong?"

"I'm at The Rusty Spoke with Sam." His voice is calm, controlled, but I can hear the tension underneath. "One of the Jackals approached her. I stepped in."

My hand tightens around the phone so hard I'm surprised it doesn't crack.

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine. But you need to get here. Now."

I'm already moving, grabbing my keys, my vest. "I'm on my way."

I hang up and text Bobbie and two others from the crew. Rusty Spoke. Now. Sam's there.

I don't wait for responses. I'm out the door and on my bike in under a minute.

The ride to The Rusty Spoke takes eight minutes. It feels like eight hours.

My mind is racing, running through every possible scenario. Sam at a Jackal bar. Sam approached by one of them. Knox stepping in.

What the hell was she thinking?

I told her to stay out of this. I told her it was dangerous. And she went anyway.

She went to a bar full of men who traffic women and children, and she walked in there alone like it was nothing.

My hands are shaking on the handlebars, and I don't know if it's from anger or fear.

Probably both.

When I pull into the parking lot, I don’t see Knox’s bike or Sam’s car. Then I see them—standing just inside the door, Knox's arm still around Sam's shoulders, his body angled protectively toward hers.

I kill the engine and swing off the bike, my boots hitting the pavement hard.

Bobbie and the others pull in behind me, but I don't wait. I'm already walking toward them.

Sam sees me first. Her face goes pale, and I see her swallow hard.

Good. She should be scared.

Knox's arm drops from her shoulders as I approach, and he takes a half-step back, giving me space. But his eyes are steady, meeting mine without flinching.

I stop in front of them, my jaw so tight it aches.

"Outside," I say, my voice low and controlled. "Now."

Sam opens her mouth like she's going to argue, then closes it. She follows me toward the edge of the parking lot, away from the door, away from the windows. Knox is right behind her.

I turn to face them, and it takes everything I have to keep my voice level.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Sam's chin lifts, defiant even now. "I was trying to help—"

"You were trying to get yourself killed!" My voice rises despite my best efforts, and I see her flinch. "Do you have any idea what could have happened in there? Do you understand what those men do to girls like you?"

"I know—"

"You don't know!" I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm down, trying to think. "You don't know, Sam, because I've spent your entire life making sure you never had to know. And now you walk into a bar full of Jackals like it's nothing?"

Tears are streaming down her face now, and part of me wants to pull her into my arms and tell her it's okay. But it's not okay. She could have been taken. She could have been hurt. She could have disappeared, and I might never have found her.

"I just wanted to help find Tina," she says, her voice breaking.

"And what were you going to do if you found her? Huh? Walk up to the guys who took her and ask nicely for her back?"

She doesn't have an answer for that.

I take a breath, forcing myself to calm down. Then I look at Knox.

"What happened?"

Knox's voice is steady, matter-of-fact. "I saw her leave the shop around one. I followed her. When she went into the bar, I waited outside for a few minutes, then went in. One of the Jackals—guy with a shaved head, beard, jackal patch on his vest—approached her at the bar. He was getting too close, asking questions. I stepped in, told him she was with me."

"You told him she was your girlfriend," I say, and I can hear the edge in my voice.

Knox doesn't look away. "Yeah. I did. It was the fastest way to get him to back off."

He's right. I know he's right. In a place like that, claiming a woman as yours is the only language those men understand.

But seeing Knox's arm around my daughter, seeing the way she leaned into him, the way he held her close—

I'm grateful. God, I'm so grateful he was there. If he hadn't been, if Sam had been alone when that Jackal approached her—

I don't let myself finish that thought.

But I'm also seeing something I can't unsee. The way Knox looks at her. The way he moved to protect her without hesitation. The way his arm fit around her shoulders like it belonged there.

Knox cares about my daughter.

And not just in the way a crew member looks out for the boss's kid.

I've known it for a while, if I'm honest with myself. I've seen the way he watches her when he thinks no one's looking. The way he positions himself near her at gatherings. The way he stepped up tonight without being asked.

He's nineteen. She's seventeen.

Two years isn't much. Not really. Not in the grand scheme of things.

But she's my daughter. And he's a kid I pulled out of hell two years ago. A kid who's been through things no one should go through.

And I don't know how to feel about any of it.

"Thank you," I say finally, my voice quiet. "For being there."

Knox nods. "Of course."

I look at Sam, and her face is streaked with tears, her hands shaking.

She's not a child anymore. I can see that now. She's seventeen, graduated, smart enough to figure out what we do and brave enough

—or stupid enough—to try to help.

But she's still my daughter. And I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

Even if that means keeping her away from this work.

Even if that means keeping her away from Knox.

"We're leaving," I say. "Sam, you're going home. Knox, you follow her. Make sure she gets there safely. Make sure she stays there."

Sam's voice is small. "I'm not a child."

I look at her, and my expression softens just slightly. "No. You're not. But you're my daughter. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if that means keeping you away from this."

I turn and walk back toward my bike, Bobbie and the others falling in behind me.

As I swing my leg over the seat, I glance back.

Knox is standing close to Sam, his voice low, saying something I can't hear. She nods, wiping her face, and heads toward her car at the shop.

Knox watches her go, then looks at me.

Our eyes meet across the parking lot, and something passes between us. An understanding. A warning.

He knows I saw the way he held her.

And he knows I'm not okay with it.

But he also knows I'm grateful he was there.

It's complicated. All of it.

I start my bike and pull out of the lot, Bobbie beside me.

As we ride back toward the shop, my mind is racing.

Sam's not going to stop. I know her well enough to know that. She's going to keep pushing, keep trying to help, keep putting herself in danger.

And Knox is going to keep watching over her. Because that's who he is. Because he cares about her in a way I'm not ready to acknowledge.

Tomorrow, I'm laying down rules. Clear boundaries. If Sam wants to help, she can do it from behind a computer screen. She's not going anywhere near another operation. She's not putting herself at risk again.

And Knox—

I don't know what I'm going to say to Knox.

But I need to say something.

Because I saw the way he looked at her tonight.

And I can't unsee it.