All Chained Up (Devil's Rock #1)(46)

Polansky crossed his arms in front of him. “Several gangs frequent Roscoe’s . . . I had my reservations about you working there but set them aside because it’s a family business and your family has always been law-abiding citizens despite owning such an unsavory establishment.”

Knox stared coldly at the man, wiping his hands on a rag. It didn’t matter. The grease didn’t seem to want to come off. “I haven’t broken any laws since I got out and I don’t intend to.”

“Yes, well, we’ll see. Won’t we, Mr. Callaghan? One misstep, one infraction of your parole . . .” He thumbed the air behind him for emphasis. “. . . and you’re headed right back to Devil’s Rock.”

Knox nodded once, not trusting himself to speak. This guy with his unsubtle threats pissed him off. It reminded him that he wasn’t really free. Not fully. Maybe he never would be. Not as long as this * kept popping in to criticize him anyway. He couldn’t even work on his f*cking bike in peace. Polansky ducked inside his car.

Fuming, Knox fixed his expression into an impassive mask as his parole officer drove away. Turning, he started toward his bike to continue where he’d left off, but stopped with a glance down at his dirty hands. They were shaking. With a curse, he stormed up the steps. The contentment he had found working on his bike was gone.

A restless anger prowled loose inside him. He felt close to exploding.

Uncle Mac called out to him from his chair, where he was watching Wheel of Fortune, “Everything go okay with the visit?”

“Everything’s great,” he lied.

His mood was dangerous. He wasn’t fit company. He should go for a run and work off some energy. Except he didn’t feel like running. He had another activity in mind. Activity that involved losing himself in soft eyes and wild caramel hair.

He’d left Briar’s apartment two mornings ago and hadn’t seen her since. He knew he’d hear from her eventually. She’d have to let him know if she was pregnant. She would do that. She wouldn’t keep him in the dark. She was too honest, too good, not to let him know one way or another.

In the meantime, until the matter was resolved he could see her. Be with her. As long as she was willing, he wasn’t going to deny himself.

Oh, he knew she had her doubts. When she had opened the door for him last time, he read the wariness in her eyes, but he’d sent those reservations running. Kissing her and sinking his fingers into her heat, giving her the orgasm she so badly needed.

And that was the truth of it. She needed what he could give her just as much as he needed to give it. And he planned on giving it to her until he had his fill.

AFTER WORK, BRIAR parked her car and stared at her building in the early evening sunlight. She could see her balcony from where she sat. The aloe vera plant on the balcony looked a little wilted. She made a mental note to give it water. Tapping the steering wheel anxiously, she debated whether to go inside or keep driving. She didn’t have a destination in mine, but she could come up with something else to do.

Going inside, where she would only have silent walls for company, didn’t appeal to her. Even with the TV on that was a lot of time alone with her thoughts.

Knox hadn’t come over since two nights ago, and she told herself she didn’t want him to. She stopped herself from texting him or calling him. That would send out the wrong message. The only time she intended to text him was when she knew for a fact that she wasn’t pregnant. She’d be strong until then. She’d start listening to the alarm bells in her head and not give in to the urge to reach out to him.

Deciding she couldn’t hide from her own home—she wasn’t that pathetic—she stepped out of her car, slamming the door after her. She winced at the sight of her dirt-coated hood. It needed a good washing.

Seized with sudden inspiration, she hurried inside and changed out of her scrubs into a pair of wind shorts and a T-shirt. She collected a sponge, soap, and some old towels and headed back outside.

Hopping back inside her car, she drove past the gas station where she had run into Knox. She shook off the memory of him and Cherry Garcia ice cream. She’d never be able to eat it again without thinking of him. Unfortunate. She’d have to find a new flavor.

A few blocks past the gas station she pulled into an old outdoor do-it-yourself car wash. Growing up, Dad had bought both her and Laurel cars when they turned sixteen. It was part of his image. Giving so generously to his family. His daughters were an extension of himself, and they had to appear better than the average teenage girl rolling into the parking lot of Polk High School.

In reality, the cars were just one more thing he would shout at them about. They didn’t drive them properly. Didn’t park in the driveway correctly. He insisted, of course, that she and Laurel keep their cars spotless. God forbid if the inside was a mess. She knew how to wash a car so that it passed her father’s eagle-eyed inspection.

She fished out enough spare change for ten minutes of water—just for starters. Water was a precious commodity out here in the badlands. She tried to preserve when she could.

Once the car was soaked, she began soaping it with the sponge, humming under her breath. She didn’t mind getting wet. It kept her cool. Even at five o’clock it was still warm.

She paused and tried to shove several strands that had fallen loose back into the bun on the top of her head. Then she bent back over her car, standing on her tiptoes in her flip-flops so she could reach as much of the roof as possible.