Page 77 of Knot Yours

She flinches when I help her to stand, telling me the entry and exit wounds from Cruz’s shot are still tender. But she’s alive.

When the door opens on the ground in Norfolk, Knot waits outside, leaning against my Land Rover. A Knot Corp Tahoe is parked nearby. “Thought I’d save you a trip,” he explains.

“Thanks.”

The CEO takes the bags from me, and I offer Marisol my hand to help her down the stairs. I assist Marisol into the passenger seat and send Piper to relieve herself. Knot meets me at my car’s rear gate, which I open to let Piper in. “How’s she doing?” he asks, tipping his chin toward Marisol.

“Better each day.”

“What about backlash from the media or Otero’s enemies?”

“Otero says he’s got a handle on the press. God help me, but I believe him.”

My boss and friend nods. “And we’re sure the cartel presence up here won’t be a problem?”

“By Dario’s admission, it shouldn’t be. He hired a couple of low-level soldiers to scare Marisol. The Pastrana cartel never had any interest in her. Otero says that a phone call from him will make sure they never do.”

Knot grasps his chin in thought. “And you buy that?”

“In this case, I have no choice. Me trying to warn them off wouldn’t have the same effect as the Don of the Puerto Rican mob. I’m not leaving anything to chance. It’ll be a while before Marisol is healed enough to go back to work. While she’s home, I’ll leave Piper with her. And I won’t be spending extra hours at the compound for the foreseeable future.”

“Okay. Take Marisol home. Get some rest.”

Knot walks away, but I call out to stop him. “Hey, Dillan.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He smiles. “I had to help. You still owe Trish a dining table.”

I laugh and close the gate, shaking my head as he walks away. After climbing behind the wheel of my Discovery, I ask my girls. “What do you say we get out of here?”

“Yes, please.” Marisol shivers, the weather differential and blood loss chilling her from the inside. “I want hot chocolate, a blanket, and to lie on the chaise in your garden.”

“You’ve got it.”

When we arrive at my house, I park in the driveway, settle my girls inside, and rush to give Marisol what she wants—starting with something of her own. All her stuff is in my garage, but I’ll still have to search for the box containing her fuzzy sofa blanket.

Marisol’s eyes widen when I hand it over, but she doesn’t ask why I have it. I breeze on by to the kitchen, pulling down two mugs and the makings for hot chocolate. It’s a little late in spring for me to drink it, but I’ll do it for her.

Piper struts to the patio door to go outside, but the automatic door doesn’t respond to her collar. She paws at the panel, whining. “Sorry, girl. The battery must be dead.”

I open the door to let her out and return to my work in the kitchen. Along with the hot chocolate, I make some muffins from a pouch mix. I would like to do better, but it’s what I’ve got and will tide us over until I get some food in the house for dinner.

The muffins are done twenty minutes later. I load them onto a plate, pour up the hot chocolate, and walk to the living room to retrieve Marisol. “Ready?”

She smiles, wraps the blanket tighter around her shoulders, and pushes off the couch. Marisol opens the door since my hands are full. Piper rushes back inside and promptly stretches out on her bed. I don’t blame her. We went from work to Mexico to Puerto Rico. She’s glad to be home.

The sun hides behind a thick cloud, and the wind is kicking up ahead of a storm. The result is a cool afternoon, making me glad for the hot chocolate and wish I’d changed into some sweats.

Never mind. I’ll warm up just fine, wrapped up with Marisol beneath her blanket.

Marisol

Austin’s backyard is quickly becoming my happy place. His garden will be beautiful whether flowers are in bloom or the leaves are changing. Austin carries a tray of steaming muffins and mugs to the elevated patio, and I follow, doing nothing more than keeping warm.

The simple, sugary lunch warms me from the inside, but no more than being settled in Austin’s lap with the blanket covering us. He’s reclined on the double chaise with one knee up. I’m lying between his legs, one arm tangled with his across my chest and the other draped over his knee.

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