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“He has a vest.”
“Nine!”
Knox made a disgusted face. “Of course he fucking does. Head or dick, I guess.”
I fought a smile. “Great minds, Nate.”
“Huh?”
“Eight!”
“Nothing. Let’s kill this motherfucker.”
“That’s my girl.”
Knox descended the stairs first, and I was just behind, but neither of us abandoned our guns or raised our hands in surrender.
“Seven—”
Vane had Jackson in a chokehold with a knife slicing into his cheek. Their eyes were both wild, bodies twitching to keep the upper hand. The size of Vane’s arm made Jackson’s look like a twig. The other Devils were still scattered, too banged up to intervene. Even if they could act, they didn’t. It would only complicate the delicate situation.
This was between me and Vane now.
“What do you want, Vane?” I said, forcing my voice to be loud, clear, and deadly.
My coldness was nothing against his deranged fixation
“What do I want?” he repeated, slowly, almost as if he didn’t understand the question. “I want to finish what your daddy asked me to. He wanted you tamed. Obedient. I wanted you broken.”
Vane pressed the knife hard against Jackson’s neck. The president winced as blood welled from the pricked skin. “And I still do. You and you.” He jerked his head at Knox. “Made a fucking joke out of me. It wasn’t personal until then. Now your whole fucking club is going to die for?—”
“Fine.”
Knox whirled. “Care, no.”
He tried to prevent me from shoving past him, but I slipped out of reach and crossed the floor faster than Knox could move.
Vane’s savage grin stretched wider. Jackson watched me with a heavy mix of emotions, like he knew something was about to snap loose.
I stopped a few feet from Vane, tucking my gun in my pocket. “Let’s negotiate, then.”
“Caroline,” Knox hissed, voice sharp with warning.
I ignored him.
Vane threw his head back, howling with laughter. “You don’t get to make demands, missy.”
“No,” I agreed lightly, “but I can make a good distraction.”
Vane’s brows knitted in confusion—and then jerked in pain when Jackson stole a knife from Vane’s belt and stabbed it into his unguarded thigh.
Vane bellowed and released Jackson, who didn’t waste a second. He spun and landed an uppercut that snapped Vane’s head back like a ragdoll.
And then Jackson went feral.
I knew Black Jack was dangerous—he’d spent a decade as a Navy SEAL. His training made him lethal, and he had spent years giving my father a run for his money with his physical strength and tactical cunning.
But I had no idea just how capable or how merciless he could be.