Page 9 of Knox

The switchblade hiding in my sleeve slid out into my hand and just brushed the waistband of his dark jeans. Move a little to the left, put some effort into the forward thrust, and bye bye, baby-maker.

Knox’s jaw ticked, but he remained still. Men’s bodies were so delicate. “Sneaky. That tiny thing was a gamble against the size of those chuckleheads.”

I tilted my head to the side slowly, the kind of sultry motion that made lesser men’s brains short circuit. Men’s minds were filled with only violence, the need for power, and the desire to abuse women. It was easy to outwit them once you cracked that code.

I made my voice simpering. “Do you have a tiny thing, Royal?”

Before he could react, I kneed him in the balls.

Knox dropped to a knee on the cracked pavement with a grunt, hands covering his crotch. “Fuck, woman,” he groaned. “The fuck?”

I switched the blade closed and stuck it in the inside pocket of my jacket. I was taller now with him kneeling, and I enjoyed the powerplay of bringing a member of the Devil’s Luck to his knees with one move—something my father could never do so quickly.

“What do you mean, the fuck?” I snapped. “You deserved that! You have no idea what you just did.”

That infuriating smirk returned as Knox pushed to his feet, dusting off his jacket. It was just a plain old leather cut, no Devil’s emblem to be seen. How had he even heard of the Lair? Why did he go? What was he after?

Who was he after?

“Saved your pretty ass, for one, Miss Bates.”

I considered punching him in the dick again. “No,” I said with my best attempt at patience. “You just put a target on your back. You’re a Devil, for fuck’s sake. Did Black Jack send you? My father is going to hear about this, and when he does? You’re dead. Your whole club is dead.”

I waited for Knox to balk, to show some sort of hesitation, regret, guilt, something. But he just kept grinning, unfazed by the threat of the full might of Walter Bates and the Wolverines.

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “I’d love to see him try. He’s been hiding in a hole for months. I’m sick of all this shit.” Knox gestured to nothing in particular. “Someone has to put an end to it all.”

And then his smile shifted into something that made my blood run cold when he rumbled, “Why not me?”

I crossed my arms. “Sounds like you’re going rogue, Flush.”

“I prefer Royal.”

“Pickers can’t be choosers when you just got kicked out of a poker den, Nathaniel.”

That made his grin go away—fast and sharp like a gunshot, but his voice was a deadly whisper. “Do not call me that.”

Nathaniel “Royal Flush” Knox was a threat, sure, but he had yet to give me a real reason to fear him. I narrowed my eyes. “Then don’t call me sweetheart, or I’ll stab more than just your pecker.”

Knox bent down slightly. The move was meant to be intimidating, a motion to pair with the lethal gleam in his gaze. “I’m not afraid of you, Miss Bates. Or your father.”

I almost staggered back in shock. He had to be bluffing just to be charming. Everyone was afraid of Walter Bates. How could Knox not be afraid of my father when he had almost killed half of his MC? I could barely list the shit Father had done to destroy the Devil’s Luck.

There. That was the reason to fear him. That was what made Knox truly dangerous. Because in this world of metal and blood, being fearless meant being reckless, and that was what got men killed.

I mentally shook my head. I wasn’t so easily rattled, not after everything I’ve been through. “You’re an idiot to think so. And a selfish asshole. You put me in jeopardy?—”

“Yeah, and? Why should I care?”

Anger rushed me so powerfully that I didn’t know what to do. The curse I had inherited from my father—quick to anger, quick to draw a weapon. But I didn’t show my switchblade again because Knox wouldn’t blink at it.

“You’re right,” I snapped. “No clue why I’m wasting my breath on you. Get the hell out of my sight.”

“Why? Is this your property? Let me guess: your buddy Asher is going to report to your Daddy, and then you’ll have to explain why you didn’t kill me where I stand? Go on. Give him a call. I’d love to hear your excuse. I don’t need to be anywhere else tonight.”

The weight of the switchblade in my pocket grew heavier. I wanted to use it so badly. Knox wouldn’t be intimidated by it, and he would make quick work of disarming me. I knew I was capable of drawing blood before he could, but the Devils were quick, cunning bastards. Black Jack was one of the deadliest men in Reno. And like a damn cockroach.

When Father got it in his head to end someone, he never failed—except where the Devils were concerned.

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