Page 11 of Knox (The Devil’s Luck MC #6)

KNOX

I t made me furious that Caroline would think she was pathetic .

That was pathetic. The woman, who wore white pantsuits, yanked her hair back into that ponytail like she was in the military, and outsmarted my own brothers, had been reduced to imposter syndrome?

Fuck that. She was a badass. She freed herself from that chair and those ropes. I had just provided a distraction.

Sure, she looked like hell and she was trying to forget, but that didn’t make her pathetic. It made her human. And I would rather she look like this than whatever she’d look like if that bastard guarding her had been allowed to continue.

As for Jackson, I had to believe my president wouldn’t resort to such depravity.

Even though he hated Caroline as much as her father for all the shit they’d both pulled, especially against Sam, even though he wouldn’t have run in to save her, Black Jack wouldn’t hurt her in retaliation.

If Jackson knew what I’d done to free his enemy, what would he do?

I knew he wouldn’t let me go scot free, and I was fine with accepting the consequences of my actions.

But if he took it out on Caroline? Well, maybe I wouldn’t want to wear Devil’s Luck leathers anymore.

We were bound to our own moral code. Lawless?

Maybe. But not animals. We had principles.

But that was jumping the gun.

Caroline was still sitting on the picnic bench. She had finished her ramen, which was good, but it remained to be seen how her constitution would take that mixed with tequila. All the adrenaline was draining out of her, and the rough time she’d had would start catching up with her.

Watching her chug liquid fire was the sexiest thing I’d seen a woman do in a long-ass time.

Seeing her get wound up at almost everything I said? Turned me on like a damn light switch.

“Black Jack,” Caroline said, tone dripping with no shortage of cynicism, “is the same as my father. They’re just opposite sides of the battlefield.”

For her, there was no discussion on that. The matter of her thinking the Devil’s Luck were as bad as the Wolverines was settled.

Right now, I knew I couldn’t change her mind. All I could do was keep her fiery so she didn’t lapse into a dark place.

I’d been in too many dark places to let anyone else fall into them.

“I always knew you were fucked up,” I said with a lazy grin, leaning back in my uncomfortable-as-hell folding chair. I pretended it wasn’t, spreading my knees like I owned the entire forest. “But you’re more of a loon than I realized.”

Caroline blinked at me like I’d grown a second head. Then she looked like she wanted to turn into a feral cat and claw my eyes out.

I just grinned wider. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

She jolted to her feet. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I leaned forward to adjust one of the logs in the fire pit, unbothered. “If that were true, you would still be sitting down. You should be sitting down. How’s your head not spinning?”

“Oh, it is,” she snapped. “But my desire to kick you in the balls again is stronger than any alcohol.”

There it was. The spark. The sign of defiance that told me she’d be damned if she let herself cave into defeat. She was too smart for that.

The fire crackled, spitting sparks, but the real glow was coming from her. Caroline radiated fury and grief and she needed an outlet. For a split second, I thought about offering the chance for her to knee me in the balls if it kept her a spitfire.

Spitfire. That was a good alternative to sweetheart and princess.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” I said.

“It’s not like I helped you escape that ogre, took you to my brothers’ shop, drove you into the middle of a national park, or tended to your wounds, or anything.

Most importantly, spitfire ,” I said with a hand over my heart, “I made you ramen . I don’t do that for just any woman. ”

Caroline scoffed. She was good at that. “Spitfire?”

“Suits you. Would you rather it be sweetheart or princess ? Or just Caroline?”

“Don’t call me anything. And you’re saying you’re so popular with the ladies? Do you make them steak and asparagus?”

“Bold of you to assume just because I’m a guy, I can barbecue.”

“I didn’t. I assumed you just toss it into the oven and eat it with your hands.”

“Rude. I’m a biker, not a caveman.”

“I’ve yet to be proven wrong.”

“Okay.” I chuckled, loving every damn word out of her mouth. “We can agree I’m not sophisticated.”

Her knees wobbled. My grin flickered. I tensed to lurch up and catch her if she started to keel over. But she lowered herself onto the bench without issue. I had no idea how she was still awake and kicking. I had no idea how I was still awake.

Then she reached for the tequila bottle again.

I was on that shit like my life depended on it. I grabbed the bottle from her trembling fingers. “Nah-ah-ah!”

“Give it to me,” she ordered as if I were just one of her Wolverine buddies to boss around. I was tempted to give her something , alright.

I plopped down on the opposite side of the table, taking a swig, not breaking eye contact. It burned like fire, but I acted like it was refreshing as hell just to piss her off. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

She didn’t even try to hide it. “Yes. Up until recently.”

“Did you throw tantrums in the toy aisle when you were a kid?” I set the tequila on the ground next to me, then leaned forward on both elbows.

She clearly didn’t like anyone in her wide personal bubble.

But I wanted to prove to her I wasn’t a threat.

I was here to help, no matter how much she claimed she didn’t want it.

“I know I did. My old man beat me with a belt if I got unruly in public.”

Caroline opened her pretty mouth to retort but stopped short. “Your father…”

I nodded. “Yup. I can tease all I want about your old man, but I’d be lying if I said mine was a role model.”

My grin faded when I saw something shift in her.

I had hoped my story would make her feel less alone but I didn’t expect her to show it so raw.

She was looking at me like something in her cracked wide open.

Recognition in those deep blue, haunted eyes framed by surprisingly dark eyelashes.

Understand, maybe. Realization that she wasn’t the only one born into a hellscape devised by her own blood.

Before I could stop myself, I said huskily, “You look good like that. Unguarded.”

Caroline immediately threw up her walls, but it wasn’t a total shutout. Now she was curious. And flustered. “I didn’t think men like you would admit shit like that.”

“I’m an open book, spitfire,” I said, just as low. My eyes were roaming now. Her eyes, her busted lip, her nose that wasn’t quite perfect yet was, the slope of her jaw scraped up from her tipping over in that chair. The slender column of her neck, the hollow of her throat just visible. Below that…

I barely had enough focus to finish my sentence. “Ask me anything…”

“Are you trying to stare at my tits?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Can’t a man appreciate an attractive woman?”

“Of course,” Caroline said, suddenly syrup-sweet, “when she doesn’t look like shit.”

“How do you know you look like shit?”

“Because I feel like it, and your sob story isn’t going to make me whip out my tits for you.”

“Don’t expect you to, spitfire.”

“Well, what if I did?”

Caroline curved her shoulders forward, pressing her breasts together. They weren’t visible through her tank top, but the idea that they were there and pushed up like that was enticing enough. My throat went dry real fast.

I was impressed by her ability to drop her voice to a silken purr. “So… are we doing this or what?”

She reached across the table. I caught sight of her raw wrists, poorly wrapped thanks to yours truly. It was like I was doused in ice water.

I gave her my own coy smile. “Doing what?”

Caroline’s eyes flashed with sudden impatience. “Do I have to spell it out for you, or has it really been that long since you got laid?”

“I would enjoy seeing you try to spell anything in this state,” I said with a wink, avoiding the question. “What’re you willing to do for it?”

To emphasize it , I stood up. Caroline’s eyes immediately flicked to my crotch. I damn near burst out laughing, but I managed to keep my composure. She would slit my throat if I actually laughed at her.

I sat back down.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, spitfire,” I said, quieter now. “Ask me something else.”

She was clearly put out by the dismissal. She crossed her arms over her chest impetuously, pouting like the spoiled princess she was. Definitely threw tantrums in toy aisles. Probably always wanted the newest Barbies.

But damn was that pout cute.

If any of the Devil’s Luck knew what was going on in my brain right then, they’d gut me like a pig. If Jackson knew what my cock was trying to do, I’d be a eunuch in the blink of an eye.

This is all temporary, Knox , I told myself. Help her on her feet, then rid your hands of her. Easy as that. Then move on. The MC is more important than wanting to cop a feel on the tits of the Devils’ biggest enemy.

The thoughts felt like slime on my skin.

Caroline wasn’t some charity case. She wasn’t a pawn to take Bates down, either.

Shame heated my skin more than the tequila.

It wasn’t too long ago that I’d volunteered to use her for Bates’s downfall.

Now it was the last thing I wanted to do.

I was a man of honor. Respect. Sure, I could throw myself in the mud for some shit, but I had lines I never crossed.

Like screwing a drunk woman who just escaped literal torture.

“What else did your father do to you?”

Memories of my shitty upbringing came flooding back. “Locked me in my room for dumb stuff a lot. Never let me have a birthday party.”

“My tenth birthday, I spent watching my father beat one of his men with a wrench.”

“Oh, damn. What for?”

“Probably nothing.”

“Hm. Did you keep a knife under your pillow?”

The corner of Caroline’s lips twitched. “Of course. Just after my tenth birthday. Guns in your house?”

“House?” I snorted. “We lived in a trailer home most of my childhood. Had Ol’ Tess here, and we’d go camping now and again. If you could call it that. More just fishing trips, and Dad would have to haul me along because he couldn’t leave a minor alone. But yeah, plenty of guns.”

Caroline propped her chin in her palm. “Mom?”

“Drug addict. Overdosed when I was fifteen. You?”

“When I was three. Unknown cause.”

My jaw tightened. “Daddy won’t even tell you how your own mom died?”

As if the fact didn’t bother her in the slightest, Caroline said, “Nope. How old are you?”

“Thirty.”

“Same.”

“It’s like we’re twins.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, but I saw her mouth twitch again. She would never admit to laughing at my attempts at a joke.

The fire was starting to sputter out without my tending to it. We were slowly being enveloped in actual nighttime. We needed to sleep.

I got to my feet and stretched my arms over my head. I didn’t miss her gaze rake over me. “There’s only one bed.”

Caroline stiffened, then stood, too. She stumbled but caught herself on the table. “Lead the way.”

“I’m not sleeping with you, spitfire.”

She glared. “I hate you.”

“You’ve already told me that.” I stepped closer to her. She held her ground this time, no flinching. And the closer I got, the faster her eyes flicked back and forth between mine as if waiting for permission for something.

“And even if you did,” I continued slowly, testing the limits of her personal bubble by leaning down so my mouth was this close to her ear, “I wouldn’t give a damn.”