consider friends. Yet, when it’s the darkest hour, we’re alone. Always alone. I laid there on the floor of my apartment and waited to die. Alone. No one was there to help me, Sunny. Except the man who’d almost killed me. He called 911 that day. Him. A serial killer. If he hadn’t, I’d have died. Did you know that?”
Miranda wet her lips. Then nodded. She couldn’t imagine how that must have felt. “I know. I canvassed your apartment building that day. I confirmed that he was seen on your floor. I testified in the inquiry. I was one of the first PAVAD agents on scene—I didn’t live that far away. I saw them loading you into the ambulance. I prayed for you. For one moment, when I could.”
“While I was in a damned coma.”
“Yes.” It had hurt, seeing the crime scene photos again. Knowing one of the FBI’s own had been targeted because of his friendship with another. “Do you have any friends at all now, Knight? Or have you closed yourself off from everyone who ever mattered?”
His expression darkened, and Miranda feared she’d pushed him just a little too far. His finger slipped to her lips, and he traced the top ever so gently. Gently. Like he was containing himself, keeping himself from ever doing anything to hurt her.
But she felt the threat in the movement. The threat from the hunter stalking the prey he wanted to devour. “Knight? What are you…doing?”
“The thing is, Miranda Talley, I learned something that day.”
“What…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “What was that?”
“That I have never truly mattered. Not to anyone.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Just in one brief, almost fleeting moment. When he pulled back, he had an angry look in his far too gorgeous eyes. “That is a lesson I will never forget. You…will learn that same lesson one day. Soon enough.”
She wanted to say more, but the RN at the intake desk called her name. Miranda bolted to her feet, far too fast, and stumbled toward the nearest exam bay. For the first time, Allan Knight had truly frightened her. On a deeply feminine, deeply personal level.
And she didn’t know what to do about that.
He shouldn’t have touched her. Knight had grossly miscalculated. He’d taken one look at the scrape on her cheek, barely more than road rash, no doubt from where she’d fallen to the floor and scraped against the chairs, and it had pissed him off. Combined with her words probing far deeper than they should have been able to, and he’d lost all sense of reason.
No doubt she’d report his ass to her boss first chance she got. Knight would just have to deal with the consequences.
Talk of what had happened to him, talk of Malachi Brockman, always made Knight act like an irrational asshole. Angry. Just flat out pissed at the world.
He’d already been on edge from Lesley Beise’s attack on her.
No doubt it was worse because he was attracted to her. And wanted to protect. He felt like he’d failed to do just that. And that made the animal in him furious. Snarling.
Ready to rip into the nearest threat.
He shouldn’t have taken that anger out on her. No matter how hard she’d pushed him, needled him. Made him realize that his words were the truth.
Knight had no one. Absolutely no one in this world truly gave a damn about what happened to him. Unlike her.
The world could revolve around her. Pulled to her like she was the very center of gravity.
He’d be a fool to even keep thinking that. He wasn’t ever putting his hands on that woman again.
34
Jac looked at Lesley Beise and tried to evaluate him based on all the information that they had gathered. Max was in the room, directly to her right. He’d be the one doing most of the questioning while Jac observed and took notes. This was a process they’d done thousands of times now, it seemed. It was routine; old and comfortable. Almost like it used to be.
With one difference.
This jerk had knocked Miranda into the wall and hurt her.
Lesley Beise stared at both of them, questions in his gray eyes. Jac just calmly straightened her notebook on the table. She was ready. She nodded at Max and started her recorder on her bureau-issued cell phone.
“Agent Jaclyn Jones…” she identified herself, the date, the location, the purpose of the interview, and who was in the room with her for the