Page 40 of Hard Bargain

Dominic had leaned back, posture composed, but his attention hadn’t shifted. He was still watching Knox. There were questions in his eyes, like he was trying to work through a problem.

Then it vanished. Shut down so quickly Knox wondered if he’d imagined it. Whatever replaced it was colder, almost irritated, as if he disliked whatever he’d almost let show.

Cassian let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s interesting,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “You two wanna fill me in, or should I just keep inventing increasingly entertaining explanations?”

That, finally, made Dominic look away.

“Nothing to explain.”

Chapter 12

Knox

For the past week, Dominic hadn’t shown his face once. There had only been instructions: short, efficient texts and the occasional brief phone call, all of them boiling down to the same thing. Pick up a package. Don’t open it. Take it where you’re told.

Knox could drive—he’d had his license for years—but he’d never owned a car himself. His dad’s had been the only one in the family, and that had gotten sold within weeks of the funeral. So being handed keys like it was nothing still felt faintly surreal. Sometimes he would get the address five minutes before he needed it. Sometimes he would sit in the car for half an hour waiting for someone to show up, hand something over, and then drive away again without a single word exchanged.

The packages were never explained, and Knox had learned quickly not to ask. If Dominic wanted him to know what he was carrying, he would’ve told him. It was easy work. Suspicious as hell, but easy.

Mostly, it was boring.

That night, Knox lay stretched across his bed with a book open in his hands, pages worn soft at the edges, the spine cracked from being read more than once. Usually books helped; they dragged him far enough out of his own head that he could breathe for a while. Tonight, not so much. He’d been staring at the same page long enough for the words to lose meaning entirely.

His phone buzzed beside him. Frowning, he reached for it, expecting another message from Dominic, but the number on the screen was unfamiliar. “Yeah?”

Silence stretched across the line, long enough that he pulled the phone away to check the screen, half expecting the call to have disconnected. It hadn’t.

Then a voice, hesitant enough that Knox almost missed it. “...Knox?”

He pushed himself upright against the headboard, the book slipping shut in his lap. “Who’s this?”

“Jacob Wolfe.”

Well. Fuck.

That was unexpected.

At his father’s funeral, he’d given his number to the guy Jacob had been with, who Knox later learned was Liam Hart, Jacob’s lover. He’d told him to pass it along in case Jacob ever wanted to reach out, but he hadn’t actually expected that to happen.

Knox had always known there was a half-brother out there somewhere. Their dad had walked out on Jacob when he was young, then started over with Knox and his mother twenty years later, as if the first family had been disposable.

But knowing and knowing weren’t the same thing. It had never meant anything. His dad barely talked about his other son. It just turned into something his mom would throw out when she was pissed. Knox never had a name or a face to put to the idea. Just this vague outline of someone who existed. Easy enough to ignore. It only became real when his dad died and the lawyer brought up Jacob’s name because of the will.

Knox let out a deep breath through his nose, leaning his head back against the wall. “Took you long enough.”

“I know.”

No excuse or a clumsy attempt to justify it. That caught him more off guard than an explanation would’ve. Knox’s fingers tapped against the cover of his book. “Didn’t think you’d actually call.”

“I almost didn’t.”

The blunt honesty made Knox huff. “So what changed?”

“You gave your number,” Jacob said after a moment. “Figured there was probably a reason.”

Knox’s mouth twitched. “Maybe I was bored.”

“Are you?”