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“Right here.”
CHAPTER 39
KNOX
Watching Caroline boss some knocked-on-their-asses bikers around made me want to buy her a crown, a shotgun, and some lingerie all at once.
That scruffy kid made a good point, though—Caroline committed some serious crimes against the law over the years. Without Bates as a buffer, their contacts in the police departments were effectively dissolved. Hell, maybe they would thank us for eliminating him so they didn’t have to deal with his shady ass anymore.
But that was something that we would deal with together when it came to it. Right now, I wanted to go to the Well, order seven rounds of the strongest booze Sam had, put Caroline in my lap, and get drunk on kissing her.
Everything after that went slowly. The Devils didn’t deal with Wolverine bodies—not even Walter Bates’s. Caroline didn’t give a shit what they did with him or Vane. As soon as their hearts stopped beating, she was done.
I kept Caroline tucked against me through our much more minor cleanup. Brody kept checking everyone’s bandaged wounds like he expected them to blow up as we headed toward a back door. Right before we walked out, Caroline gasped loudly.
I panicked. “What? You okay? What’s?—”
“I’ll be right back.”
She snatched the gun I’d stashed in my waistband and ran inside.
“What’s she doing?” Abel asked, half in concern, half intrigued.
I shrugged. “Beats me. I just hope?—”
BANG!
I was already moving. “Caroline!”
She came skipping—skipping—from around the corner, brushed past me, and rejoined the Devils, who now looked faintly disturbed. Even Jackson was wary.
I stormed after her, reclaiming the gun. “The fuck, woman?”
Caroline slipped her hand in mine and tugged me toward the truck. “Sorry. I just had some unfinished business.”
“Dare I ask?”
I opened the door to the truck like it was a limo as the other guys loaded into their vehicles. Since I was the least battered, I would drive the one with Brody, Mason, and Grant squished in the backseat. It wasn’t long before the cabin smelled overwhelmingly like blood and sweat.
Jameson got into the driver’s seat of the other truck with Jackson and Abel in the back. They rolled down their windows to hear Caroline’s explanation.
She turned up the AC like she owned it, redoing her hair, leaving us all hanging by a thread.
“Baby,” I implored.
Caroline huffed. “It’s no big deal. I just had to fulfill a promise to myself.”
“And what was that?”
She lifted her chin proudly and smiled—the first real fucking smile I had ever seen from her ever—and said, “I shot Vane in the dick.”
After our delirious, howling laughter faded halfway through the drive to the Well, everyone but me and Jameson passed the fuck out. I focused on the road, listening to the hum and rattle of the old pickup and the snores of my girl and brothers.
It was over. Walter Bates was dead. The Wolverines were dissolved. The Devil’s Luck had secured safe futures for Sam and Elle’s babies.
My grip loosened on the wheel when Caroline shifted in her sleep. She had her head on my shoulder, squishing her cheek, and for the first time, she was completely unguarded. Like she knew she was really, truly, once and for all safe, and finally believed me that I could keep her from falling apart.
Caroline didn’t have to hide in warehouses or trailers in the middle of forests or hotels with thin walls anymore. She didn’t have to be surrounded by fucked-up old men anymore. She didn’t have to wear pantsuits, heels, and a ponytail tight enough to qualify as a facelift anymore.