Page 23 of Knox (The Devil’s Luck MC #6)

CAROLINE

I had never experienced heartbreak before. I wasn’t lucky enough to be dumped by a boy. I didn’t have grandparents or aunts or uncles to mourn over. I didn’t have friends to cut ties with after a big fight.

I didn’t have a heart to break. My father and the Wolverines made sure of it.

But Knox? Knox found a heart in the depths of myself, hardened in a shell. And then he cracked it open and didn’t scoff or recoil at the pathetic mush inside.

That wasn’t the heartbreak part, though.

When the rest of the Devil’s Luck arrived and Knox went to greet them, I slipped into the open door of Grant’s shop. It was all too easy. Seldom did men in this world pay attention to a woman when their tempers and egos were going full throttle.

As soon as I entered, I was struck by bad memories. It wasn’t that long ago that I had been held hostage here. The Devils had kidnapped me and used me as leverage to trade me for Samantha.

I snorted despite myself. I doubted anyone could have ever imagined how things could change.

I snuck through the shop to the bathroom. It was dingy as hell, clearly uncared for by a bunch of grease monkeys.

The mirror was grimy, but enough of my reflection was visible to smooth my hair and splash water on my face. I was still covered in cuts and bruises. My wrists were still rope-burned.

The warehouse situation felt like weeks ago.

One man’s kindness—and an impressively-sized cock—flipped my whole world on its head.

He had shown me a sliver of a life in the arms of someone who made shitty ramen over a fire in the middle of the woods that was good .

He held up a mirror to all the shitty things I lived in that I thought were normal.

And now his brother, Gabriel, was dead because of me.

I stared at the stranger in the reflection. Who the fuck was she? Some knockoff version of a woman I used to respect. Knox’s spare shirt swallowed my frame. My bra was god-knows-where. I was wearing two-day-old panties. My designer sneakers were now ruined beyond repair, covered in mud and blood.

The Caroline Bates I knew wore immaculate white pantsuits and heels so expensive the price would make normal people have a heart attack.

That was not who stared back at me.

What the hell kind of power player did that make me now?

Going back outside was a stupid, stupid idea. If the Devils didn’t draw their guns on me back at the trailer, they sure were going to now. The smartest, most self-preserving thing to do was to steal a bike or car and burn rubber like hell was snapping at my heels.

I was a selfish, cold-blooded fucking coward. A gutless, manipulative, lowlife bitch who didn’t deserve a lick of mercy. I did destroy everything I touched—I’d been doing it my whole life. That was the one thing I was good at. Ruining shit. Ruining people.

I was supposed to be untouchable. Through my father’s protection and my own wit and street smarts, I was invincible.

And now here I was wearing my enemy’s clothes, running from my own blood, feeling like some pathetic little girl who never knew what living was like outside of a lie I thought was a life.

God, I fucking hated that I felt the urge to say I was sorry to the men on the other side of the wall.

Caroline Bates didn’t apologize. She didn’t feel regret. She didn’t feel . She just took what she wanted, what she needed, and survived.

Surviving just wasn’t good enough now. It was fucking exhausting.

Maybe there was more to life than just clawing through the wreckage over and over again.

And the only way to find out?

Walter Bates had to fucking die.

I angrily splashed the mirror like it would make the unrecognizable bitch leave, then went back outside. I just had to get it all over with. The arguing would only escalate until a solution was reached. If that ended with a bullet through my chest in retaliation, fucking fine.

But I had my two cents to get out first. Caroline Bates did not go down without a fight.

When I walked into the darkening evening, my never-wrong instincts were correct: worst idea ever.

Jackson cut himself off to look at me like he was imagining all the ways he could bleed me out and call it justice.

I braced myself, clenching my hands into fists when he snarled, “You,” like a curse.

He stalked toward me, and it felt like getting charged by a rhino.

Then Knox blocked Jackson’s path. “Back the fuck off, Jack.”

The authority in his tone sent an unbidden shiver down my spine.

Jackson glared daggers. “Get out of my way.”

“I’m not moving.”

“I’m not gonna kill her,” Jackson snapped. “But I sure as hell am gonna make her understand what she cost us.”

Knox squared his shoulders, not backing down. “She’s gone through enough.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jackson barked. “You’re gonna get her out of Reno, Knox. Tonight. And if she’s still here by morning…” Jackson shook his head. “There won’t be a conversation next time.”

I stepped forward to speak, but Knox half blocked my way. Stupid human shield. “I’m tired of causing issues,” I told the Devils. They all looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “I don’t want to interfere with any of you or your club anymore. I want to leave Reno, and I will. But first…”

I swallowed hard. I could shoot a man between the eyes easier than saying the two words I forced out between my teeth like they would poison me.

“I’m sorry.”

Jackson lost his shit.

“You think you can just say that shit and expect?—”

Knox blocked Jackson’s path again, shoving his president back with such force that it surprised the other guys. “Leave her the fuck alone, Jackson.”

“I just said I was leaving,” I said, trying not to sound accusatory.

Jackson’s wrathful glare flicked between me and Knox, and suddenly, I had a very bad feeling in my gut. I could tell he was considering something violent.

“Yeah, just you .”

Then he swung at Knox. The sound of knuckles slamming into jawbone was explosive.

Knox’s head jerked sideways. He spat blood, but his voice left no room for argument. “Not just her . I’m going with her. I’m getting her out of Reno.”

Jackson swung again. Knox dropped to his knees. “No,” the president seethed. “You’re fucking not. You are a Devil , not a chauffeur for a disgraced piece of Wolverine ass. I don’t want to call you a traitor, Royal Flush, but I will strip your patch if you give me reason to.”

Before Knox could get a word out, Jackson slammed his boot into Knox’s shoulder to push him onto his back. I sucked in a sharp breath. How could he be so cruel?

“You’re thinking with your dick, not your head,” Jackson growled. “Your damn heroics—fuck.” He cut himself off, his voice cracking. “If you weren’t conned into saving the siren bitch of Reno, Gabriel wouldn’t be dead.”

Okay, that’s not gonna fly.

“Get off him, you brute!” I shouted, lurching forward. I was terrified of Black Jack and what he would do to Knox just to prevent him from helping me. I wouldn’t stand by and watch my savior be beaten to a pulp, nor was I going to let myself be called a siren bitch.

“Caroline,” Knox croaked. “No?—”

Jackson pulled out his gun. It happened so fast. I stumbled to an immediate, horrified halt when the barrel pointed at my face.

The other Devils sounded off in disapproval, all of them jerking forward a step as if to intervene but wouldn’t dare cross their leader.

I raised my hands in surrender. I was frozen in place, but I was shaking like a leaf in a storm. Adrenaline was turning my limbs to jelly, but I kept standing. I would be damned if Jackson saw me as a doe in headlights.

I wanted to say I wasn’t afraid to die, but I was .

“Get off him,” I said, flicking my eyes to Knox, still on the grass.

“He doesn’t have to help me. I’ll find my own way.

Just leave him alone, and I’ll be gone. I have a ride waiting.

Just stop fucking punching him. I want to refuse to believe you’re a bigger monster than my fa—than Walter Bates.

I want you— all of you—to believe me when I say I’m sorry. ”

Mason let out a furious, devastated yell that made me instinctively flinch.

He kicked his bike, probably pretending it was me, shoving it until it fell over.

The sight of a man uncaring about breaking a vital part of his life was profoundly heartbreaking—a brutal display of grief for a fallen brother.

Abruptly, Jackson put his gun away and turned away from Knox.

I lunged forward, helping him up. It wasn’t a graceful process. He staggered to his feet. His face was mottled with blood and bruises. When he flashed a weak grin, his teeth were stained red. His teeth must have bit into his cheek when Jackson punched him.

“I’m peachy,” he rasped.

Suddenly, all I wanted was to be alone with him so he could hold me like he held me just hours ago.

But what if the smile was just an act?

Knox had to hate me. He had to blame me, just like the other Devils.

What if he chose his MC over me, and was about to listen to Jackson’s unspoken order to ditch me and not betray the Devil’s Luck? What if?—

“Get her out of here.” Jackson’s voice was strained, like he could barely get the words out. He had his back to us. “And stay away until the funeral.”

Knox’s jaw clenched like he was barely keeping it together, and he jerked a nod.

Grant moved first. He disappeared inside, coming outside a second later with keys and a wallet. He shoved them at Knox, casting me a dead-eyed look. “Take one of the bikes I’ve been working on. There’s helmets in the garage.”

Knox nodded again.

Just like that, it was over—for now.

I guided Knox inside. He tried to aim for the garage, but I forced him into the bathroom to do at least a cursory cleaning of his face.

“Generally,” I said roughly, “no one should drive with blood smeared across their face.”

“None of it got in my eyes,” Knox weakly protested. There was no smile or forced humor this time.

Soon, we had helmets on and were driving away.

It was all so fucking surreal.

I had no idea where Knox was planning to go until the limo service arrived.

But after being on the road for a while, it felt aimless.

From where I sat behind him with my arms around his torso, I knew that this was something Knox needed.

He was driving aimlessly, like this was his way of blowing off steam.

Somehow, it was instinct to wrap my arms tighter, squeezing, hoping he could feel me trying to hold him together.

How odd. I never had to comfort someone before.

Then Knox rested his hand on my knee, and I knew it worked, even if by a fraction.

My wound-tight body was able to relax just a little, and I thought, He doesn’t hate me.

Finally, Knox pulled into a modest hotel whose name I barely registered.

It wasn’t much. Simple, clean, middle-of-the-road motel.

There were a hundred of them in Reno, each one just as bland as the next.

Still, it was a miracle they let us book a room, considering we shouldn’t have been able to book one at all.

But it was Reno, and lots of weird shit went down.

The room we got was on the third floor with a view of the swimming pool down below.

It had two beds and a decently new TV bolted to the wall.

The AC was cranked to arctic freezing. I went to turn it off.

But the time I turned around, Knox had already gone into the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on.

Well, okay, then , I thought with surprise, a bit miffed by the desertion.

I considered turning on the TV and waiting for him to return. That would be the normal thing to do. Or I could sit on the balcony and watch the minimart parking lot across the street. I was also starving , so I could order room service.

But I did none of those things.

I was not going to sit around twiddling my thumbs, ditched by the grieving bastard.

I opened the bathroom door, steam billowing out. The shower curtain was open. Knox stood under the water, motionless, head bowed, letting it beat down on him like he couldn’t feel a thing.

I didn’t think. I just peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower.

I slipped between him and the spray, pressing my bare chest to his, and wrapped my arms tight around him.

At first, he didn’t move.

Then his arms came around me, hard and unbudging, tucking me against him like he couldn’t hold me close enough.

The backs of my eyes stung. Goddamn it. I was going to cry. Or scream. Or want to stay here forever.

The limo would be here in a few hours.

How the hell was I supposed to leave this?

Leave him ?

I tipped my head back to look at him. His eyes were already on mine, then flicked to my lips.

“Knox,” I whispered.

“Caroline,” he rasped, rough and aching.

And then we collided in a hungry, desperate kiss like the world was ending.