11. Knox
11
KNOX
“ Y up, there’s one on Knox’s car, too. That means there’s a tracker on all three of our vehicles,” Sagan announces from beneath my little sedan.
“Fuck,” Thatcher hisses. “Knox, can you take them off without alerting the owner that we removed them?”
I shrug. The one on his truck and Sagan’s motorcycle are ancient looking. There’s no way there’s any extra-sophisticated security system put in place on them. “Sure, they look pretty fucking old-school.”
Sagan crawls out from beneath my car and gets to his feet.
“How long do you think we’ve been being watched?” He asks, the question directed at his brother.
Thatcher shrugs. “Who the fuck knows? What I’m more concerned about is that we’ve been followed from each of our kill sites. They could have shit on us to use as blackmail.”
“If we were going to be blackmailed, don’t you think we would have heard from someone by now?” Sagan objects.
I tune the twins out as they go back and forth about the potential danger. There’s nothing that I can do to uncover who put the trackers on our vehicles, and standing here talking about it won’t give us any better insight into our situation. Someone’s watching us and until they make themselves known, or slip up and we catch them first, we’re kind of shit out of luck. So, instead of engaging, I pace while I throw myself into handling the real conundrum at hand.
I need to talk to Starr Girl ASAP. Not only so I can free my dick from this uncomfortable cage, but because I need her. Who knew that, in such a short amount of time, I’d find someone I would enjoy being around other than Thatcher or Sagan. Standing here, I feel the pull to go to her, like we’re both opposite ends of two magnets and I’m just within reach of her magnetic field.
With the twins, our connection had been immediate and visceral. Well, kind of. At least it was on my end—which was unusual in and of itself. Their twisted, murderous ways attracted me like blood calls to a shark. As I was left dying in a ditch, I vowed to myself that if I miraculously survived, I would be as wild and dangerous as them. They were, and still are, my idols.
But it’s different with their stepsister.
Beatrix subtly managed to worm her way beneath my skin with me being none the wiser. The way she speaks softly, listens intently and accepts others no matter how fucked up they are, is a gift—one I took for granted. No matter how rude, condescending, or cutting I’d been with her, Beatrix never wavered in her kindness. When I started to lower my guard and there’d been a semblance of a truce between us—as short-lived as it had been—I’d had fun with her. She’s easy to be around. Better yet, she allows me the grace to be myself, rough edges and all. Despite my initial concerns, I’m not being judged or mentally dissected by the quiet Starr. Her gentle teasing, shy smiles, and her peaceful presence are strangely addictive, and without it yesterday, I realize how easily she’s swept me up and bewitched me.
And that’s a bit of a problem because my attraction to others stems solely from who they are as a person. Unlike the twins, Beatrix didn’t have to stab me in order to garner my interest. Apparently, all she had to do was be fucking nice.
How low is the bar these days where that calls to me more than anything else?
And who would’ve guessed that my moodiness hadn’t been from a reluctant budding friendship as I had assumed. Turns out I’ve been falling in slow motion for my boyfriends’ stepsister.
“ Knox !”
Startled, I tense, freezing in place. I look toward the twins to find them both watching me. Fuck, had they said something to me?
“What?” I ask.
“The guy we spoke to last night said whoever sent him didn’t want us on his turf. We want to see what happens if we go to Chicago again. You up to playing tonight?” Thatcher repeats. Judging by the exasperation in his voice, he’s probably already asked me this a few times.
I open my mouth to tell him no, that I’m going to try to make things right with Beatrix, but I catch myself. Choking back my initial response, I grin excitedly as a plan unravels before me.
“Sure, but I want to take your sister with us.”
Thatcher and Sagan exchange looks with one another, communicating in a way only twins can. When they’re done, they look back at me.
“Beatrix doesn’t need to be involved in this. We don’t know who we’re dealing with and things might get… messy,” Thatcher objects, crossing his arm over his crisp black button-up. I really like seeing him dressing up more. I’m used to both of them dressing casually. Apparently owning a funeral home means dressing like it. At least for Thatcher it does. Sagan’s black compression long sleeve shirt and jeans are far from even business casual.
Not that I hate what I see.
“She killed last night, right? That means she can hold her own. Besides, it’s not like we’re going to up and abandon her. One of us can stick close while the others do some recon. And by one of us, I mean me,” I offer.
Sagan shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. “I doubt she’ll like that much.”
“Look, you wanted me to win her over, so why not give me a chance? I can show her the time of her life in Chicago. Dinner, dancing, drinks—how could she possibly say no to that?” I explain energetically. “And while we’re out, one or both of you can slip away and do whatever it is you plan on doing. Unless you need me to help?”
Thatcher sighs. “That’s not a bad idea. If she wants to join us, fine. As long as you stick close to her, I think Sagan and I can handle things on our own. Especially since we’re just going to see what happens when we show up on this person’s territory. It’s possible nothing will come from this expedition.”
“Great!” I flash the two of them a grin and take a step toward the door. “Leave the trackers on then. Now let me go see if your sister is game to party.”
I don’t have to search too hard to find Beatrix.
Given that the funeral home isn’t even open yet at this hour, there are really only two places she would be. Since she wasn’t in the cremation chamber with us, that leaves the preparation room. I push open one of the double doors and find her standing behind her desk.
Beatrix is in the middle of placing a plastic bag of ashes into a fancy wooden box but pauses to look up as I enter. I half-expect her to flinch or to shriek at the sight of me like she did yesterday. To my surprise, Beatrix gives me a smile. It’s warm and makes her eyes twinkle. There’s even some color in her cheeks today.
“Hey, Knox,” she greets softly.
“Hey… you,” I reply warily as I approach the desk.
She doesn’t shrink away or glare as I come to a stop before her, so I’m kind of confused. Has everything already blown over? Searching her face for animosity and finding none, I think that seems likely. Perfect. She was overreacting anyway. I only buried her alive. It’s not like she died or anything.
Still… This feels too good to be true.
“Can I help you?” she asks, still smiling.
“Yeah, I—” I pause as I realize she’s not looking at me.
Her gaze is trained behind me, over my shoulder and glazed over. I frown. Quickly, I do another sweeping glance over her sleek all-black attire. As always, she’s well put together, but there’s something off today. My eyes land on her hands that tremble slightly, and that’s when I pick up that her whole frame is swaying. I look back up at her face and take in how she’s trying hard not to break out into a full grin.
An incredulous bark of laughter spills out my mouth. “Are you blood drunk right now?”
Beatrix flinches at my outburst before blinking rapidly. “What’s that?”
“You know, blood drunk.” I shrug. At her bewildered look, I elaborate, “Do you feel really warm inside? Or like you're floating? What about your hands? Do they feel like they're tingling?”
Her mouth shifts into an ‘O’ shape as understanding dawns on her. Then she falls into a giggling fit. The sound is so innocent given what she finds amusing that I can’t help but chuckle with her.
“Is that what this is? Blood drunk? I like it, it feels so good.” She laughs, her head falling back, and a hand lands on her stomach.
Starr Girl is beautiful when she laughs.
My cock twitches. I’m immediately reminded of its confines as it presses up against the cage Sagan locked me in. I grunt as the feeling becomes uncomfortable. Pushing past the growing discomfort, I saunter over until I’m standing right there in front of Beatrix.
“Yeah, it’s a great feeling, isn’t it?” I agree, watching her closely. I can see a growing opportunity before me as her eyes twinkle up at me. “Want to keep it up?”
Starr Girl’s laughter cuts off with a gentle gasp.
“Wait, it fades?” Her brows pinch together with concern. “Yes, how do I?—”
“By killing again, obviously ,” I explain as I lean a hip against the desk. “We could go out tonight and?—”
“ We ? As in, you and me?” Beatrix asks sharply. She takes a step back as her smile fades. “No. I’m not doing anything with you. I might end up in a coffin with six feet of dirt covering me like the last time you and I had anything to do with one another.”
“It was actually four feet of dirt. I got lazy,” I correct, forcing out a laugh in an attempt to defuse the tension growing in the room. It doesn’t work. Beatrix purses her lips in disapproval. Ok, so being blood drunk hasn’t made her forget she’s mad at me. Right. Time to fix this. “Look, I’m sorry. Can’t we go back to the way things were? You know, where we had an amazing friendship?”
Or more if you want … The words that never pass my lips are saturated with hope in my head.
Beatrix’s brows furrow in genuine confusing as she repeats, “‘An amazing friendship’?”
“Yeah,” I agree quickly, nodding as if the visual confirmation might solidify the slightly exaggerated state of our delicate relationship before I buried her. The reluctance to accept her around, to give in to what was clearly being offered, was solely on me. But I’ve seen the light and have changed.
Starr Girl sighs before she turns her attention back to stuffing ashes into that little wooden box. “I may end up dead next time my friend wants to play a game.”
“I got distracted, but it won’t happen again.” I cover my heart with my hand and lift the other up beside my face. “ I promise .”
The look Starr Girl shoots me lets me know she doesn’t believe me even as her mouth twitches like she wants to smile. Too bad being blood drunk isn’t working in my favor right now. I sigh.
“What can I do to prove to you I’m sorry?” I ask, barely managing to keep the whine out of my voice. I haven’t worked this hard to try to get on someone’s good side in forever. Since winning over Sagan I think.
Beatrix shuts the lid to the box and sighs.
“Look, Knox,” she starts. “What I did, spying on you, was wrong, and I’m sorry. But?—”
“You have nothing to apologize for!” I reach up and rake my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. “Not really at least.”
Starr Girl looks down at the wooden box, her shoulders sagging. Internally, I sigh. God, why couldn’t this be fucking easy?
“I wasn’t expecting… I didn’t know you’d… Urgh! I was shook, ok? Remember when I told you about Greg, the guy who made my life hell? Ever since him, I just kind of expect the worst out of people, and I’ve been right to. Everyone has lived up to my exact expectations. It’s like people have this perverse fascination with anyone different from them. I’m the person that people like to gawk at or harass. I thought that’s what you were doing behind the wall and punished you accordingly. But keeping you down there for that long was a mistake. I didn’t know you were touching yourself while you were watching Thatcher punish me and?—”
“Sagan told you that?!” Beatrix stiffens as her eyes widen in horror. “Great, I feel even more embarrassed!”
“No!” I close the distance between us. I stop just beside Beatrix to stare down into her pretty, liquid amber eyes. She tilts her chin upward to look at me. My fingers itch to reach out and caress her face. “It was fucking hot, Starr Girl.”
Her lashes flutter as her full lips part. “W-what?”
“Yeah.” I give her my best smile. “Maybe next time you can watch while you’re actually in the room with me. Or…” I wink, “maybe you can participate. Remember how good it was when I tongue fucked your pussy? I can’t stop dreaming about it.”
Beatrix sucks in a sharp breath, then stops breathing. My eyes drift down to her mouth. I’ve kissed Beatrix’s lips before, just not these ones. And while her pussy was surprisingly delicious and I’m eager to dive between her legs once more, I can’t help but wonder what a real kiss from Starr Girl would be like. I swallow hard and force myself to push forward.
“You’ve been nothing but unexpectedly sweet since I’ve met you,” I admit. “I like your company and want to spend more time in it. I really am sorry for almost killing you.”
Can she hear my sincerity? Feel the passion vibrating within each word? I hope so. Beatrix Starr is one of very few people who deserves my kindness. From the moment she stepped between me and Trevor the first time, I should have known she was different from everyone else. Every word, every action after that only proved Beatrix isn’t like the rest. I was just so jaded and blind and, well, if I’m being honest, maybe even a little jealous. I’ve never had to share the Hunt twins before. But that’s all in the past.
“Come on,” I beg. “Give me a chance to take you out tonight and show you I’m not a completely terrible person.”
Beatrix looks down at her box. Her hands slide over the lid. My hand lifts and I nearly place it on her shoulder. I stop the movement before I regret it. That could come at a cost. Like a touch in return. I shudder at the thought.
“Alright,” she mutters.
I gasp with delight.
“ Alright as in you forgive me?” I hedge.
As our eyes meet, I notice a little color gathering in her cheeks. It’s followed by her eyes traveling down to stare at my lips. My breath catches in my throat. I know she’s blood drunk, I shouldn’t take advantage, but Starr Girl is looking very much like she wants a kiss, and I’m not opposed to stealing one.
“No. That was a ‘alright I’ll go out’ tonight. I’ve never partied before, not really,” she admits with a shy, small smile that fades just as quickly as it comes. “But I could forgive you, on one condition.”
Ok, no kiss, but this is something. Hope fills my veins. If she’s able to look past this blunder, then maybe there could be a reset and we can start over.
“Name it,” I reply eagerly.
“I want to punish you . Then I feel like we’ll be on equal footing again.”
Again ? Clearly there are some wires that have been crossed. Does she think she’s like us because she sanctioned a few kills? Or because she finally shoved a blade into flesh? Psh . She has a lot of bodies to slash through before she will ever tip the scale. But whatever. If this will make her happy, fine. She’s so innocent, anything she cooks up will probably be a walk in the park compared to what the twins have put me through.
Besides, it’s not about if I can handle a punishment—that’s a no-brainer. Agreeing to this is so much more than some tit-for-tat thing. I want Beatrix to trust me. Hell, I want more than just that, but this is a start. Once we get past this little hiccup, I know I can win her the rest of the way over.
I agree, “Deal. Whatever you want to do to me, I’m game. Nothing’s off the table, ok? So do your worst.”
Her worst will probably be forcing me to watch some stupid movie with her or some shit. She seems simple in that way. Starr Girl’s smile returns, bright and warm, and her gaze shifts ever so slightly again. Yup, definitely blood drunk.
“Ok, I’ll have to think about what I want to do.”
I laugh. “Take your time. We’re together in this for the long haul, Starr Girl.”
“She said yes!” I announce as I kick the office door that’s ajar all the way open. The door bangs against the wall behind me but I don’t care.
I find Thatcher sitting in the desk chair and Sagan standing behind him, leaning on the back of the chair on his forearms. Both guys look up from the laptop on the desk as I enter. I hurry over toward them and then perch myself on top of the opposite side of the desk.
“We’re going to have to pin this for now, Knox,” Thatcher says with a sigh. “We just got a call from Beatrix’s pastor friend saying that tomorrow morning they’re holding a service at the church for the Trevor boy. Beatrix’s presence was requested.”
“So?” I scoff. “What’s that have to do with going out tonight? I thought you wanted to see what would happen if we showed up in Chicago now that we’ve been warned off?”
“Once Beatrix hears the pastor wants her there, I doubt she’s going to feel like going out,” Thatcher objects.
I blink, not understanding the correlation. “Why?”
Sagan crosses his arms over his chest. “Because yesterday he confessed to her that he knew his son raped her, twice. Then had the nerve to plead with Beatrix to keep what happened under wraps to anyone who might talk to her about it since news of her assault is spreading like wildfire around Chasm.”
Well shit. He might as well have punched me in the gut. My bubble of excitement pops abruptly.
“ What? We should go pay that fucking asshole a visit,” I snarl.
Thatcher shakes his head with frustration. “We can’t be the cause of any more deaths or missing people around here. The town will start to get suspicious given how quiet it was before we arrived. Right now, the best we can do is to keep our fists, and knives, to ourselves. Pastor Michaels might just meet his end before the year’s up but for now…” His voice trails off as he shrugs.
“Fuck that asshole. We should let her be the one to kill him, however we decide to do it,” I spit.
“She doesn’t know that we know about his confession,” Thatcher says in warning. “So don’t talk about revenge until she tells you about it. He’s coming by later today to pick up his son’s ashes, so don’t say anything to him either.”
My stomach drops. Fuck. Starr Girl is about to get her ass handed to her once more if she’s not careful. Didn’t she learn from watching me how important it is to communicate with the twins? Maybe I can get her to open up about the pastor and what he said before the guys take things into their own hands. If she tells me, it’s like telling them.
I mentally roll my eyes. Right, like she’s willing to say anything to me right now. I highly doubt confiding in me about the trauma in her life is going to happen anytime soon.
“Look, you guys can punish her after I win her back over, alright? If you?—”
With a flippant wave of his hand, Thatcher cuts me off. “We’ll give her a little more time, Knox.”
“Alright, good.” With a deep breath, I force myself to focus on winning Starr Girl back. “We still have to go out tonight. This might be the best way to get her mind off the funeral. Better yet, don’t tell her until tomorrow. Wait, no!” I grin as another idea forms. “Fuck that, why don’t we just go in her place? Let’s take your sister out on the town and see who sticks their noses in our business, just like we talked about. Tomorrow, the three of us can show face at the funeral instead of your sister, allowing her to avoid facing that asshole.”
Thatcher’s brows fly upward. He looks over his shoulder at Sagan who’s watching me closely. Suspiciously .
I flash the twins a smile. “Look, the girl is utterly blood drunk. It makes her much more open-minded. Let’s keep the buzz going for a bit. This might be my only chance to get back on her good side. At least for a while. And while we’re out having fun tonight, if we can lure whoever is watching us into a dark alley, let’s give Starr Girl a stab at it.”
Sagan snorts before he prowls around the desk. When he comes to stand before me, I open my legs and tilt my head up. Sagan takes the offering and closes the distance between us. His head dips, and my heart leaps as he leans down to kiss me.
He doesn’t though. Sagan just chuckles darkly before his hand comes up and wraps around the front of my neck.
“You want to take my Little Viper, Pretty Boy, and watch her strike?” he asks softly, his lips dipping down to brush lightly against mine. I shiver at the growl in his voice. Swallowing, I give him a little nod. He makes a soft sound of disgust, his grip tightening around my neck. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more at play here?”
“There’s not!” I fib. It’s a little one. Maybe it’ll go unnoticed?
“So I won’t find you as hard as you can get in that cage of yours as you think about playing with our sister?” he questions. I open my mouth to deny it but Sagan chokes off my response. He straightens but keeps the pressure on my throat. I wince as the lack of air gets to me. “Just know, Pretty Boy, that you don’t get to fuck our sister if you can’t control yourself or if you can’t pay attention.”
Fuck, how did he know? “I wasn’t thinking about?—”
Sagan has this talent where he doesn’t have to glower or glare, bare his teeth, or even get loud to let you know he means business. There’s just this air about him that lets you know he’s about one breath away from a homicide. The only thing that holds him back from doing so is that he’d have to waste energy doing it and he doesn’t like to waste anything.
I love the thick crackling air of danger around him. My cock presses painfully hard against the metal cage. I wince. Sagan notices. His laughter is soft, his hot breath hitting my face.
“You couldn’t fuck her even if she begged you to right now,” he taunts with the most subtle sneer possible.
Thatcher laughs darkly from his seat. His hands come up and behind his head as he leans back while he kicks his feet up onto the desk. As his laughter dies down, he says, “I don’t think that would stop our Pretty Boy from sampling our little sister if she asked him to touch her.”
I manage to grin even as the room starts to spin. Sagan’s pupils narrow as he stares down at me impassively. Then he smirks. Sagan leans forward and captures my mouth with his, letting go of my throat at the same time. He breathes into my mouth as I suck in a deep breath. My lungs fill with Sagan. I lean into him, loving the way these twins fill every aspect of my life, including the air in my lungs. When Sagan pulls away, I’m breathing hard.
“Fine, but if I have to deal with a fuck ton of people tomorrow at this funeral, then we’re going to make this an early night,” Sagan says, stepping back.
Thatcher’s feet hit the floor and he leans toward us. “If you can win our sister back over by the end of the night, Knox, you get to stay here with her tomorrow while Sagan and I suffer through the event. Sound like a deal? She doesn’t need to run this place by herself anymore.”
“Yes!” I throw a victory fist up into the air. Jumping off the desk, I start to trot toward the door. I stop halfway there and shoot the Hunt twins a grin. “Just so you know, I plan to pick the lock of this stupid thing so I can wear my leather pants tonight.”
Sagan smirks but it’s Thatcher that says, “Pick the lock, Pretty Boy, but just so you know, that cage isn’t the only punishment for fucking up. Have your fun, but just know, once we’ve gotten Beatrix to calm down, we’ll take care of you.”
I wonder if I should tell them about Beatrix’s desire to punish me. Quickly, I think better of it. They’ll dismiss her feeble attempt to teach me a lesson just as I have. They may even try to intensify theirs just to overcompensate for her lack of deviancy.
A shiver of excitement races down my spine, but it’s chased by a hint of dread. The Hunt twins are creative with their punishments. I never know what to expect. I won’t even pretend I can figure out what’s in store for me.
Right now, I have to focus on Starr Girl.