Page 31 of Entombed In Sin

11

KNOX

“Yup, 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’swatching 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 therealconundrum at hand.

I need to talk to Starr Girl ASAP. Not only so I can free my dick from this uncomfortable cage, but because Ineedher. 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 wherethatcalls 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’sblack 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.”

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