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We’re so fucked.
“You two naked in there?” Gabriel asked, snickering like a high schooler.
Caroline finished putting her hair up. I very much preferred her naked body, even if my ego liked seeing her in my clothes.
I snatched the truck’s keys and finished buttoning my pants, throwing open the trailer door to find Gabriel and Grant both smiling like idiots.
“You’re so fucked,” Grant said, now only half serious.
“I’ll bring the popcorn,” Gabriel added.
“Don’t,” I warned, shoving past them. “I might get blood in it once Jackson gets his hands on me. Move. We have to go.”
I heard Caroline’s footsteps and turned to help her down the steps. Her hand in mine just felt right. If someone told me I’d be holding hands with Walter Bates’s daughter, I would have howled with laughter. But here we were.
I led her toward the truck. She stuck close to me, avoiding Grant and Gabriel like the plague. I realized she would never see the other Devils the way I did—would never trust them. She would only see them as threats—as people who might hurt her.
I opened the passenger door and helped her in. I expected her to snap that she knew how to get into a car by herself, but she didn’t. She was busy eyeing my MC brothers mistrustingly. I patted her thigh reassuringly.
“We’ll get out of here,” I promised Caroline. “I’m going to unhook the trailer and grab some stuff, okay?”
She nodded, wary but unafraid. She trusted me.
Somehow, Jackson felt more like a threat than her father. My shoulders felt like they were carrying the weight of the world suddenly. I had never felt so compelled to protect anyone as much as I wanted to protect Caroline Bates from my own president.
What the fuck is happening to me?
I walked toward the trailer hook. Grant and Gabriel followed to help.
“Dude,” Grant said in a low voice. “He’s going to take the main path.”
There were two paths to this campsite. The one very unofficial way I took Caroline down yesterday. The other? The Devil’s Luck made it years ago, making it easier to take their bikes and the truck through.
“You go,” Gabriel said the second the trailer was unhooked. “We got your back no matter what.”
“Thanks, guys, I owe you one.” I gripped forearms with each of them. “I’ve never been more grateful for you bastards.”
They gave me big grins.
Grant jerked his chin toward Caroline. “Go escape with princess.”
I got into the truck, one hand already on Caroline’s thigh with a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll get out of this, spitfire. Promise. Hey, seatbelt on, woman.”
Caroline rolled her eyes and clicked her seatbelt. “Okay, okay, bossy pants.”
“Oh, you have a sense of humor now?” I joked.
I put the truck into gear as the rumble of Harleys sent birds squawking into the sky.
No. We’re too late.
Fuck.
The Devil’s Luck roared out from the trees with a vengeance, their engines shaking the ground. My jaw clenched when I met Jackson’s glare as he rumbled to a stop in front of the truck—blocking the way forward and out.
The rest of the MC kicked out their bike stands. I couldn’t bring myself to look at any of them. Shame made my whole body lock up. I thought I could come up with a convincing spiel to get Black Jack to understand why I risked everything to save the enemy, but in the moment, I was so royally fucked with no plan at all.
Jackson looked ready to murder me on the spot and then start a campfire and clink beer bottles with my brothers, who no doubt felt betrayed.