Thrill Ride (Black Knights Inc. #4)(69)

And bam! As always, the I’s had been dotted and the T’s had been crossed. There were days when Bill still felt the need to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t simply dreaming up the well-oiled machine that was Black Knights Inc.

“Fantastic,” Boss declared. “So now it’s time to get down to brass tacks.” He turned to Rock, and Bill watched the ragin’ Cajun blow out a deep breath. The man still looked dead-dog tired, but there was no mistaking the determination in his eyes or the hard set of his jaw. Rock was finally ready to explain just what the hell was going on. “You wanna tell us why the f*ck our government is saying you killed ten hardworking Americans?”

***

And there it was.

The question Rock knew the Black Knights had been dying to ask from the first second they had him back in the fold.

He glanced across the table at Vanessa. And even after everything, after all the terrible things he’d said to her, after the way he’d pulled her close with one hand while simultaneously pushing her away with the other, she still looked at him with such trust in her beautiful, dark eyes, such…conviction. Like no matter what he had to say, she’d never stop caring for him, never stop believing in him.

Dieu, she was some kind of woman.

The best kind of woman. The kind that deserved a loyal, honorable, trustworthy man who’d worship the ground she walked on and love her with all of his heart. Too bad Rock could give her everything on that list except for that last thing.

The most important thing…

“First of all,” he began, slowly, then found himself stopping almost immediately in order to wrangle his erratic thoughts into some kind of order. This explanation was going to be long and laborious and, truth be told, he was probably going to step all over his dick trying to lay out the intricacies of the whole sordid tale. Not to mention the fact that he was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs over how the Knights were going to take it. He wasn’t sure whether they’d see what he’d chosen to do as something worth glorifying or reviling. Since, honestly, he reckoned it fell somewhere in the middle of the two.

“First of all,” he tried again, and this time he was able to finish his thought, “I want everyone to know, I didn’t kill those men. In fact, some of those deaths I wouldn’t have the first clue how to manage. I mean, how do you give a guy a heart attack?”

The question was meant to be rhetorical, but Ozzie interjected with, “Atropine.”

“What’s that?” Vanessa asked, her dark brows pulled down in a sharp V. While her attention was diverted, Rock found his gaze drifting over her pretty profile. And lower…to her breasts. Those beautiful breasts he’d kissed and caressed, those perfect nipples he’d licked and sucked and watched furl into little brown nubs. They were covered now by a lipstick red T-shirt that worked to emphasize the beauty of her black hair and olive skin, but he could remember them perfectly and—

Merde. Now his dick was hard.

Way to go, dipshit, he chastised himself even as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Dropping a hand, he tried to inconspicuously adjust himself into a more comfortable position, but when he glanced up, he found Ghost watching him with one black brow quirked in question.

He rolled his eyes and jerked his chin in Vanessa’s direction—better to admit the truth than have Ghost thinking he was some sicko perv who got wood from discussing all the esoteric ways to kill a man. Realization dawned in Ghost’s eyes, and he nodded once, sliding Vanessa a surreptitious glance before turning his attention to Ozzie.

And, oui, maybe Rock should take a page from Ghost’s book and pay attention, too. After all, it was his job, his life, they were in the middle of discussing.

“…derived from the nightshade plant,” Ozzie was saying. “It’s incredibly dangerous. Just a minute amount sprayed on the skin—”

“Great. Good,” Boss cut him off, coming as close to rolling his eyes as Boss ever came. “You’re a genius. We get it.” The big guy turned back to Rock. “Continue, will you?”

“Oui.” Rock didn’t relish the thought of laying everything out on the table. But as his dear ol’ daddy used to say, It’s time to shit or get off the pot. He’d been keeping secrets from the Knights for long enough, and it was time they knew the truth. “So, while I didn’t do the actual killin’, I did interrogate them. I was the one to extract confessions from them.” And, oh, the horror of digging around inside those men’s heads. Of discovering what made them tick, what made them happy or sad or horny or scared…

If it was possible to catch sociopathy from the scum of the Earth, then Rock was doomed. Because he’d gotten closer to rolling around in the psychological muck with those men than anyone ever should.

“That’s why your vanishing acts meshed with their kidnapping reports,” Ozzie said. “You were interrogating them.”

“Oui.”

“But interrogating them for what? Get them to confess to what?” Steady asked, leaning forward on the conference table, lacing his fingers together. Everyone liked to give Steady shit for being flaky, but the truth of the matter was, the man had a mind like a steel trap. He was the only Knight in residence who had a chance of giving Ozzie a run for the money in the IQ department, which was probably why the two of them got on so well. A case of über brain meeting über brain…