Page 41 of Lost (Powertools: The Shields 2)

“Son of a bitch,” James hissed.

There was no other option. Knox nodded and stepped forward. He waited for the passenger to unlock their van and withdraw a brick at random. Knox took out his knife, flipped it open, and sliced a line in the plastic wrapping. He dipped just the tip of his blade in the white substance and dropped the granules onto the truck bed, where he smashed them with the handle of his switchblade hard enough to make the delivery guy flinch.

Knox stared at Marcus, bent down, and snorted the drugs off the metal bed.

Immediately, he was reliving that night. The worst night of his life before this one. Chemicals flew straight to his brain and started buzzing around like a swarm of flies on a dead body. Maybe it was his corpse they were hovering over. He had only done a tiny bit, thought it was a small enough hit that it wouldn’t be a danger like it had been last time when he’d been overconfident, but then again, he hadn’t had anything in his system for damn near three months.

“It’s gooood.” Fuck, was he already slurring? It wasn’t a lie either. His heart started beating triple time and he swore he developed night vision.

“Time to go,” Jordan instructed in their ears. “Now, Marcus, so you can get Knox to help as soon as possible.”

“We’ll take it.” Marcus held out his hand and shook with the driver of the other van. It was the break they needed to have the slight advantage required in order to take the delivery guys alive. If only it had come a moment earlier, if the scales had tipped in their favor sooner, maybe the evening could have ended before Knox had sacrificed himself.

As it was, it was going to be dicey.

Marcus used the connection of his hand, clasped in the delivery guy’s, as leverage. He swung the bastard’s smug expression into the corner of the truck. His co-pilot had a gun and whipped it up, aimed at Marcus. Without hesitation, Knox threw himself at the fucker. The problem was, the drugs flooded his veins with fire and overconfidence so he only clipped the asshole instead of tackling him.

It was about then that roars echoed around them. Liam and Sola flew over Knox as they bolted from the back of the money truck and made quick work of disarming and suppressing the second delivery guy. Before Knox could manage to find his feet in the distorted world, they’d captured and bound the two drug traffickers, did something to make them go quiet and still, then locked them in the back of the truck with the money those fuckers would never get to spend.

Greedy bastards.

“We’ll take this into the loading dock and lock it up at home. See you there,” Sola said to Marcus, then climbed into the driver’s side without stopping to make sure Knox was okay. They didn’t have time to screw around, and he didn’t blame them for not wasting precious seconds on him.

He was one man. They could save thousands. Because damn that concoction was incredible. Irresistible. And there was more not far from him. He licked his lips.

“Shit!” Marcus bellowed as he reached up and slammed the rear rolling door of the truck closed, severing Knox’s line of sight with the pile of drugs.

He punched himself, irate that he could be enjoying and coveting the very thing that had ruined any last hope of building a future for himself that didn’t involve madness, addiction, and destroying the hopes of who-knew-how-many people.

Knox tried to extract the truck keys from his pocket but couldn’t get his fingers to function correctly.

“Buddy, you can’t drive like that.” Marcus levered him up. Besides, that’s not even the right truck. I have the keys for the one they brought.” He was kind, speaking slowly and quietly, even though Knox could see the strain at the corners of his eyes.

Kennedy’s anguished cries reverberated in Knox’s mind, either because they were real or because he was imagining how disappointed she was going to be in him, he wasn’t sure. Knox swiped at his ear until his comm popped off. But that didn’t stop the wailing. Maybe it was his own, echoing through his mind.

Or was it Riggs’s ghost? Or a flashback to the sounds Knox himself had made when he’d woken up and realized his boyfriend was gone?

“Fuck! Fuck!” He yanked on his hair. “Make it stop! Marcus. Please. Make it stop.”

“Kennedy will do her best. We need to get to her as quick as possible.” Marcus reached for Knox, but he batted the other man’s hands away.

“No! She can’t see me like this. She’ll hate me.”

“She won’t.” Marcus practically mummified Knox as he pinned his arms to his sides with a bear hug so he couldn’t land a swing. “She loves you.”

That was all he could take. Knox broke. A primal sound—part rage, part grief, part agony—ripped from him and echoed through the night.

“I’ve got you.” Marcus lifted Knox over his shoulder and all Knox could do was flop there as Marcus carried him to the passenger seat of the truck. His whole body buzzed and freaked out, as if it were a grotesque pinball game, the drugs bouncing around his brain lighting it up. He wanted to run the entire way back to Shields and promise Kennedy it would never happen again. But he couldn’t stand the thought of facing her. Of seeing revulsion in her beautiful blue eyes.

“I fucked up. I couldn’t think of another way.” Knox was shaking too hard to wipe the frothy drool from the corner of his mouth. He clung to Marcus. “Why do I like this? Why do I need it? She’s going to hate me. I’m fucking disgusting.”

“Nah, she’s terrified. Would she be so scared if she despised you?” Marcus settled him into the passenger seat and put the seatbelt around him as if he were a child. He did it with fast, efficient motions far different from a dad out for a leisurely drive, though. “She’s on the comms still. She’s waiting for us at home. She’s got some Narcan, and you didn’t do that much. Hopefully, that’s going to help neutralize the worst of this shit, okay?”

As he rushed around the other side of the truck, Knox thought he heard Marcus shout, “Why the fuck didn’t we bring some with us?”

It was hard to tell through the mush his brains were turning into.

Marcus climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door, his breathing ragged.

“Let it kill me. ’Cause she’s never going to trust me again.” Knox’s head hit the window as it lolled. His heart felt like it might burst at any second. “And I don’t fucking blame her. Who would want a person like this when she’s already got you? You’re perfect. I can’t do anything right.”

Marcus didn’t seem to disagree since he quit arguing. Instead he revved the engine, then squealed the tires as he raced out of the lot.

Knox wasn’t sure if he was going to cry, be sick, or pass out. He stared up at the moon, wobbling in his double vision, before letting the drugs obscure the nightmare he was living through. For the first time in his life, he didn’t enjoy being high. He hated every second of the necessary evil. Whatever he’d done, he’d done it to keep Kennedy and as many other people, even ones he’d never know, safe.

If he survived, that would be cold comfort because the woman he’d always loved would look at him with the disgust he’d earned. And the man who obviously adored her, would let Knox go to keep her. Knox wouldn’t blame Marcus. He obviously desired Kennedy as badly as Knox had craved this twisted rush once.

Knox closed his eyes and prayed for an easy out—a painless end to his insurmountable problems. How much could one heart take before it broke completely and shuddered to a stop?

---