Page 18 of Hard Knox

Mark scoffed, his eyes glinting with disdain. “Oh, really? Hear you’re the town’s charity biker. What’s Eliza telling you? How I’m the bad guy in her perfect little world? That I hurt her?”

Knox stepped a bit closer, his stance protective. “She didn’t need to tell me anything. I can see it for myself.”

Mark laughed, a harsh sound that drew a few curious glances from nearby parents. “You think you know her? You bikers are all the same, playing the hero.”

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Knox warned him.

The situation escalated as Mark took a step closer, puffing up his chest, invading Knox’s personal space. “Stay away from my family,” he hissed.

Knox’s response was swift, his voice a controlled growl. “Eliza ain’t your property, and she sure as hell ain’t your family, not anymore. And if you ever speak to her or treat her with disrespect…”

Mark cut him off, jabbing a finger in Knox’s chest. “Or what? You’ll hit me? Go ahead, biker, show everyone here who you really are.”

The challenge hung heavy in the air. Knox’s hands balled into fists and a vein popped out of his forehead. I stepped forward, placing a hand on Knox’s arm. “Knox, please, not here. Let’s just go.”

Knox took a profound breath, his gaze never leaving Mark, but he nodded, allowing me to lead him away. The confrontation left a sour taste in my mouth, a swirl of embarrassment and fear—fear of what Mark might do next, and fear of how this glimpse into my past life would affect what Knox and I were trying to build. As we walked away, the tightness in Knox’s shoulders spoke volumes of the storm that had just passed and the storms that might still be on the horizon.

Frustration an ocean between us, I led a fuming Knox to my car, and he took the driver’s side before I could. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, as if he could channel his frustration through the leather as we drove away.

“Knox, thank you for standing up for me, but that was too much,” I said, my voice strained from the confrontation.

“I don’t understand,” he replied tersely, not looking at me as he drove. “You never mentioned that your ex was… like that. That he was still around. That he was such an asshole. Why didn’t you tell me anything about him?”

“I didn’t think I needed to bring up every painful detail of my past so early on,” I said, my frustration growing. “Mark has his issues, but—”

“Eliza, he’s clearly more than just an issue,” Knox interrupted, his voice rising. “He’s aggressive, and from the way he talked, it sounded like—he hurt you?”

“Yeah, he was abusive, Knox,” I interjected, my voice suddenly small, admitting more than I had intended. “But that’s over now. He’s never hurt Emma, and he’s trying to get better. He’s in recovery for his gambling addiction, for alcoholism.”

Knox’s expression shifted from anger to confusion and then to concern. “Abusive? Eliza, how can you even think about letting him near Emma?”

“Because he’s her father,” I shot back, my own anger flaring. “Believe me, I’ve been the one fighting in court for custody. And as much as I hate him, he’s never laid a hand on her. I wouldn’t let him ever see her if I thought he would.”

Knox was quiet for a moment, his jaw working as if thinking over his next words carefully. “It’s none of my business, huh?” he finally said, his voice soft but edged with a hurt that deepened the distance between us.

“It isn’t,” I said firmly, meeting his gaze. “I appreciate your concern, but these are my hard decisions. You can’t just storm into my life and think you can take control.”

Knox looked away, staring out the windshield. “How did he hurt you, Eliza?”

I blew out a long breath. “In every way imaginable, mentally, emotionally, physically. You name it. But that’s all over now,” I said, even though I knew it wasn’t. Mark still very much did everything but get his hands on me.

“He beat you?” Knox asked like the thought was unbelievable.

“Oh, yeah. Lots, often.” I decided to lay it all out. The truth Knox wanted. “He would drag me by the hair across the floor. Hit me, kick me.” I touched my face, remembering my nightmare of a life with him. “I’d miss work for weeks on end, claiming to have the flu, every illness known to man. To hide what he did to me.”

“Why is he walkin’ free?” Knox protested.

I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. He went to rehab. He’s in perpetual recovery. Judge thinks that’s good enough.” I crossed my arms. “It’s just how it is ‘round here, Knox. His family knows the judge, and I’m from out of town.”

“If Mark ever thinks about laying a hand on you again, it will be my business,” he hissed, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll kill the motherfucker.”

“Don’t say that,” I piped, not sure from his tone or the look of him if he was joking.

“I wouldn’t even have to do it myself, Eliza. I’d call it in. My boys would give him a world a hurt,” he went on, like he was making plans.

Trying to ignore his all too serious tone, I stared out the window. “Look. I’ve made my peace with it. I had to. Believe me, I’ve fought this battle. I don’t need a savior. I’ve got this under control.”

Knox took my hand. “I’m not trying to control you, Eliza. I just can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you.”

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