Page 17 of Doomed

I scoff, pulling my wrist free. “You’re no knight. And I already said thank you.”

“Come on, princess. One little kiss.” He traces his thumb along my bottom lip. “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“Touch me again without permission, and I won’t hesitate to slap you a second time.”

His eyes spark with challenge. “Maybe I like it rough.”

“Maybe you like having an ego bigger than your brain.”

Knox laughs. “There she is. I was wondering where that fire went during our ride. Thought maybe you were enjoying being pressed against me too much to stay angry.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re beautiful when you blush.” His gaze softens for a moment before the cocky mask slides back into place. “Rain check on that kiss, then?”

“Definitely, schedule it for the second Tuesday of the third week of never,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

Knox’s smile doesn’t falter. Instead, he winks at me, slow and deliberate. “I’ll change your mind, princess.”

“When hell freezes over,” I shoot back, turning on my heel.

My keys jingle in my hand as I walk away from him, determined not to look back despite feeling his gaze on me. It crawls up my spine, making my skin prickle with awareness.

I push through the door of my building, relief washing over me as I step into the familiar lobby. Just as the door begins to swing closed behind me, Knox calls out.

“That might be sooner than you think, Bianca!”

His voice echoes in the quiet street, following me inside like a promise—or a threat.

6

KNOX

Standing in our warehouse on the docks, I watch Remy and Lars unload boxes from their carnival truck. The operation runs like clockwork—they deliver product hidden among carnival supplies, and we buy it and distribute it; everyone profits.

“You look like shit, Blackwood,” Lars calls out, hefting a crate labeled “COTTON CANDY SUPPLIES” with his tattooed arms. “Woman troubles?”

I flip him off casually. “Focus on not dropping the merchandise, Lars.”

Tyson laughs as he checks items off his clipboard. “I’ve heard he’s been moping since that artist slapped him. Vane said he’s never seen a woman get under his skin.”

Fucking Vane.

“Fuck off,” I say without heat. “At least I’m not the one with a cock piercing.”

“Hey,” Lars glares at me, “Alice loves my hardware. Maybe you need an upgrade to impress your artist.”

Tyson snorts. “Yeah, nothing says romance like metal through your dick.”

Jenson approaches from where he has been supervising our men, helping them unload. “Everything on schedule, sir?”

“Right on time,” I nod. While Jenson maintains the professional facade expected of our organization’s spymaster, despite practically being a brother to me, he’s not a Blackwood by name or blood. Ty’s crew operates under different rules since they’re independent in their own right.

“Three crates and we’re done,” Lars announces, wiping sweat from his brow. “Then I’ve got a date with a bottle of whiskey.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket while I’m checking inventory numbers with Jenson. I pull it out, seeing Vane’s name on the screen.

“What?” I answer, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder as I initial another form.