Page 34 of Knox (The Devil’s Luck MC #6)

KNOX

V ane didn’t follow Bates and the Wolverines to the Well. Which meant he was given some other task. Which meant there was a real good fucking chance he went back to the warehouse.

Where Caroline and my brothers were heading at this very second.

“Fuck!” I yelled. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck?—”

I wanted to slam on the gas right over Jackson’s foot. But all I could do was shout, “Floor it!”

I felt horrible thinking about Caroline’s well-being first before my brothers.

I had been riding with the Devil’s Luck for ten years, and I had only known Caroline officially for a week.

My priorities were fucked right now, and I hated myself for it.

Either way, I wanted to avoid anyone I cared about getting hurt.

I was going to kill Vane.

Jackson hit the gas. I knew he was thinking about the Devils first, and Sam and their baby second. Completely reasonable.

But fuck. If something happened to Caroline because of a damn oversight like Vane?

I shook the horrible, bloody scenarios from my brain.

“We need to go straight to the warehouse,” I said. “If Vane is back there, we’re fucked. All of us. Caroline?—”

“No.” Jackson weaved among traffic. It wasn’t as fast or smooth or even remotely easy as with bikes, and it was driving me absolutely mad . If one more old lady cut us off?—

“Please, Black Jack?—”

“No,” he repeated, this time with a growl. “We’re going through with the plan. The Devils can adapt. It’s just one man.”

“ Just one man ?” I exploded. “He’s a fucking merc, Jack! He tried to hurt Caroline in the worst way fucking possible. I don’t give a shit if you hate her, she’s still a person —a woman who doesn’t deserve that treatment.”

We got stuck at a red light. I considered jumping out and running the rest of the way.

Jackson just kept gripping the wheel.

“Can you imagine if Sam and your kid were in that position?”

Jackson looked at me so sharply, I didn’t know how it didn’t slice my face open. “Don’t even pull that shit, Knox.”

I didn’t back down. I knew it was a shitty tactic, but I was fucking desperate. It felt like my heart was being clawed open. “I’m just trying to make you see I care about her just as much as you love Sam and your future spawn.”

He snorted, slamming on the gas as soon as the light turned green and he could swerve into the fast lane. “Yeah, please, Knox, talk out your feelings. I’m retiring as the president and picking up psychiatry.”

“You’d get one patient, and they’d be running out in two minutes flat.”

We were joking, but it was far from funny. It wasn’t easy for guys, much less MC bastards, to talk about their feelings. We, as proven multiple times on my face, preferred talking with our fists. One hell of a productive way to build up inner trauma.

Two minutes of excruciating silence passed, and then Jackson spoke. “We’re almost there. I hope you know you’re the root of this.”

“I know. That’s why I’ll understand if you kick me out.”

“Fuck that. You’re staying.”

“Thanks, Jack?—”

“ If Bates dies by the end of the day.”

Well, damn.

I tried to make the mood light for both our sakes. “Wow. I’ve never been given an ultimatum before.”

“And it’s the last one you’ll get, Royal Flush.”

Jackson was gruff about it, and the threat was definitely real, but he had the best intentions. He was a loyal leader and didn’t want to lose his brothers. We had all been through hell time and time again. We lost Will and Gabriel. The Devil’s Luck couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.

I turned solemn. “Thank you, Black Jack. I’ll prove my worth with every battered bone in my body.”

“Good. Because we’re back to the hellhole.”

He veered the truck onto a gravel shoulder of the road to and from the warehouse. Jackson and I hopped out and started wrestling with the strips of road spikes. We hauled them across the width of the road.

“You’re well-connected, man,” I told Jackson, who adjusted the last one. “These are tire shredders.”

They looked fucking wicked. Dark metal zigzagging across itself, its spikes ready to puncture tires and bring some Wolverines down.

Jackson brushed his palms on his pants. “It’s fuck-up-proof,” he said as we climbed into the truck. “Blends in with the road. As soon as those bastards cross, they’ll pop tires, and they’ll wipe out. Cause more injuries than ambushing them with guns.”

I nodded. “I would love to see those nice bikes fishtail and wreck into one big pile of metal and broken bones.”

Jackson sped off the shoulder and onto the road, off-roading us a quarter mile in to lay the rest down. “As long as we can even the playing field, that’s all that matters. If they don’t hit that first batch, they’ll hit these.”

We quickly repeated the process, then hurried back to the truck, gravel crunching under our boots like a goddamn countdown, to finally get to the next phase of the mission: storming the warehouse.

I’m coming, Caroline. Hold on.

My adrenaline hit me like a jolt to the spine. The classic fight or flight mode—but there was no flight in me tonight. I wanted to fight until I couldn’t fight anymore—and then fight more. I wanted blood. I wanted bodies scattered across the ground and Bates’s crew forever destroyed.

All of my limbs tensed up, and I felt wired, going jittery like some cracked-out junkie chasing a fix he’d been denied for too long. Except mine wasn’t a drug messing with my head.

It was her.

Saving the people I cared about—that was what had me practically vibrating out of my skin. If Vane laid so much as a finger on her, I was going to put my boot through his skull.

“Get a grip, Knox,” Jackson warned, wrenching the wheel to whip us to the service path Caroline told us about. “If you have a shaky trigger finger…”

I gritted my teeth and caught sight of the two pickups. I locked in like a switch flipped, disturbingly calm and steady. “I’m solid. Believe me, I fucking won’t miss.”

Jackson slammed the brakes to a stop. I was out before he even put the truck in park. We loaded ourselves up with weapons we’d stashed in the bed, mentally preparing to run headfirst into danger.

We bolted toward the door. Halfway there, we heard the shots.

I faltered for half a second as terror kicked my urgency up to eleven.

We burst through the door and into the warehouse. I didn’t look at the shelves, bolting to the next door. There was a bullet in it. Jackson had to kick it several times before it budged and burst outward.

Sounds of a fight echoed in the massive space. I ran like the devil was on my heels until I skidded into the main floor.

“Shit,” Jackson breathed. “Mason.”

Our VP was on his ass nearby, clutching a bloody shoulder. The hilt of a small knife was sticking out from between his fingers. He looked furious, his face twisted in pain as he tried to get up. When he saw Jackson running toward him, he forced a bloody-toothed grimace. “Look who joined the party.”

“I was doing my hair,” Jackson said.

Mason shook his head. “Vane’s a fucking animal. Go put him down like the dog he is. I’ll be fine.”

Jameson shouted. My blood pumped intensely in my ears. Caroline.

Brass shells were scattered across the concrete floor. The windows of the office I had saved Caroline from were shattered and glass was everywhere. There was splattered blood, too.

It better be Vane’s.

Jackson’s footsteps pounded behind me as we flew past the office—and then I saw the bodies.

Grant was lying like a broken ragdoll unconscious—I made sure to see his chest rising and falling—and Abel was slumped against the far wall, his face beaten to a pulp. Jameson and Brody were locked in a fistfight with Vane.

The mercenary—wherever the fuck Bates found a merc in Reno—was fucking massive.

I had no idea how I made it out the first time.

Jameson was big, too, and he had his Ranger experience under his belt.

Already, I could see they were matches—Vane was brutal, aiming to kill if he could, but Tex was controlled.

He dodged and found weak points. But he was limping and breathing hard.

If they were in the ring, I’d pay to watch. In the middle of enemy territory with lives on the line, I’d pay for Vane to drop dead.

Jameson’s fist collided with Vane’s jaw in an impressive swing. Vane barely budged. Tex made the mistake of letting his shock cost him a split second.

Vane punched Tex, who stumbled, clutching his nose. Vane punched again, and my brother went down like a sack of potatoes.

“No!” Jackson roared.

Big-ass mistake.

Vane whirled, spotting us immediately. His savage eyes lit up, and his grin was maniacal. His teeth were snow-white against his dark skin, stained by flecks of blood.

Before he could storm toward us, Brody took his shot. The sound of his knuckles against Vane’s ear made me flinch.

Vane yelled in pain, but he lashed out, catching Brody’s gut, then brought a knee to Brody’s jaw, snapping his head up.

Brody collapsed.

For good measure, Vane kicked our loyal doctor in the ribs.

Brody went still.

Jackson went into beast mode, as if his humanity had been switched off.

He bellowed, “ No !” and charged, firing off a shot.

Vane dodged behind the office as the bullet crashed through old brick. Dust and shards exploded everywhere.

Jackson kept firing. I saw Vane bolt. Jackson gave chase.

I threw myself to my knees in front of Abel, who definitely had a broken nose, as he was stirring awake. When he saw me, he smiled weakly.

“Fuck, you’re an ugly angel,” he rasped.

My chest tightened painfully, seeing my friends drenched in blood and bruises. Ten years of brotherhood, loyalty, hell-raising, wrecked in just one goddamn week because I fell for the enemy.

“Hey, Snake Eyes,” I murmured, looking him over to ensure he would stay breathing on the unforgiving planet. “No angels here. Only Devils. Don’t tell me you’re down for the count.”

“Fuck no.”

“Good. That fucker’s gotta die as much as Bates.”

Abel raised a bloody eyebrow. “We should have brought machine guns.”

I chuckled, but it was humorless. “Where’s the fun in that? I’ll help you up.”

Abel swatted me away. He still had some fight in him, which was good to see. He thrived on chaos, rode hard and lived harder. It would take more than a few scrapes and bruises to knock him down for good. “I’ll be fine. Go find Caroline.”

“What—”

“Shut up, dude. I know you’re twitching to ask. She took off that way. I’ll just slow you down.”

Abel jerked his head to the staircase leading up to a mezzanine, half lost in shadow. I knew immediately there was no way she was hiding and cowering. She had a plan. She always did.

Abel shoved my knee. “Go, dickhead.”

I didn’t have to be told a third time.

There was nothing I could do to help my fallen brothers—temporarily—right now. They were out of commission for the moment, although they wouldn’t be out for long. In the meantime, I had to find Caroline.

I took the metal stairs two at a time, the echoes ringing out through every corner of the warehouse. They mingled with the distant sound of Vane and Jackson locked in a vicious fight. Even from this vantage point, I couldn’t see them.

But I did see Caroline.

She was crouched behind a stack of boxes near the catwalk railing. She had a gun. Even with her back to me, I knew she was scanning for someone she could shoot at.

She didn’t just take off . She didn’t run. Like hell was Caroline any kind of coward.

She was waiting. Listening. Calculating. Preparing for the inevitable arrival of whatever Wolverines managed to escape the road spikes.

Caroline Bates didn’t freeze when the shit hit the fan. She weaponized it.

Her head whipped around when I whispered her name. Our eyes locked.

She didn’t acknowledge my appearance otherwise. Just turned her focus back to the floor like a sniper waiting for the target.

Fuck, that was sexy.