Chapter 13 Diesel #2
I walk her through how to load it, how to fire it, and very basic gun safety—all shit I should have done years ago.
She blinks rapidly, as if her brain is drowning in the information. I wish I didn’t have to put this on her, but she wanted to stand in this war, and this is what war looks like.
When I’m finished, she places the weapon on the couch next to her, like it’s a live grenade.
“I love you,” I say softly when her attention wanders back to me.
She melts a little, the fear thawing for a split second. “I love you too.”
“I have to go.” I don’t move.
“I know. I’ll be waiting here when you get back. No running this time.”
I snort. “I’d find you anywhere.”
Then before I can change my mind, I push to my feet and without looking back, I leave.
Every part of me is screaming to go back, to stay with her, but I force my feet to keep moving. This is for us. This is for the club.
For a future that has to be better.
My bike is parked in the garage we rent, exactly where I left it before I went hunting my wife.
I take a beat before I climb on it, just breathing for a second and then I’m in motion again.
It’s muscle memory at this point, but when I start up the engine it doesn’t soothe me the way it usually would.
The kutte on my back, the bike beneath my body—It all feels like a weight on my shoulders.
As I ride to meet Nic, my head is swimming with every scenario imaginable. What am I walking into? Was Riot testing the waters and I’m about to meet my end.
No… I refuse to believe Riot wouldn’t have killed me right there if they thought I was a threat.
My nape is clammy when I pull my bike into a space in front of the café. It’s off the beaten track, nestled deep within an industrial estate, bustling with truck drivers and factory workers.
Nic’s bike is already out front, the chrome catching the late afternoon sunlight. My stomach tightens, knotting painfully as I pull in beside him, facing outwards in case I have to make a quick escape. I take my helmet off and allow myself a moment to just breathe. Just one.
Then I head inside.
He’s sitting at the back of the room, spine to the wall, eyes alert. They lock on me the moment I walk inside and his shoulders square just a fraction. He’s nervous too, and I’m not sure what to make of that.
I pull my mask into place and leave Zane behind to become Diesel.
I pause in front of the table, letting the tension sit heavy between us. “Take a seat,” Nic says, nodding to the chair opposite him.
It puts me at a distinct disadvantage. My back to the room, to the door, but I understand this play. He wants to see if I trust him enough to sit.
So I drag the chair out, the legs scraping over the tiles, and sink into it as if my shoulders aren’t itching. As if my brain isn’t doing circuits while I try to calm my adrenaline.
There’s a milkshake and a plate of fries already on the table. Nic glances down at them before he moves both in front of me. He slides a sachet of sriracha sauce next to the plate.
It’s a peace offering, and acknowledgment of friendship, loyalty.
Fuck. Is this an olive branch or a ploy to get me to drop my defences?
No, Nicky isn’t deceptive. He’ll stab you in the front, not the back. If he wanted me gone, I’d already be choking on my own blood.
This is an olive branch, and I take it. I pick up the sachet, ripping it open and strategically drizzle the sauce over the fries.
“You bring me here to eat?”
His lips curve. “Figured you’d be hungry after hiding out all this time.”
“Wasn’t hiding,” I say, popping a fry in my mouth.
“No?”
The hot spices hit my tongue like an assault on my senses. My body relaxes just a fraction. “If I was hiding you wouldn’t have found me.”
He leans back in his seat. Everything about his body says relaxed but I see the way his shoulders are pulled taut like the string of a bow.
“You reckon?”
“I know.” I take a sip of the milkshake. It’s cold, thick enough to use as mortar on bricks. “You want to tell me what happened?”
“With what?”
“Grub. Riot said he’s dead.”
There’s no flicker of emotion on his face, no hint of anything, but he drums two fingers on the table before he stills. “Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Riot didn’t tell you?”
“I want you to tell me.”
His gaze slides to the window, breaking from me for a moment. “He deserved to die.”
I won’t argue with that. I never liked that slimy prick but killing a VP… that’s not something to walk away from. I want to know what happened and why. I want to know what side I’m fighting on.
“You tossed a match on an already burning fire.” It’s not accusatory. Just a statement of fact.
Nic’s mouth curls into a smile, but there’s no humour in it.
I can see the tension bleeding into his eyes.
“And poured petrol on top of it.” He leans forward on the table, the fries forgotten, the world around us too.
“I killed him, and I don’t regret it, but if you think I’m a traitor for putting him in the ground then this is going to be a different conversation altogether. ”
My skin prickles, the fine hairs on my nape standing up.
“I don’t know what I think. I wasn’t there.”
His eyes narrow. “The man was a snake, Diesel. He lured three brothers into a parking garage and watched as a group of strangers tried to kill them. Patched brothers. A prospect. Men loyal to the Sons.” The muscle in his cheek contracts.
“Dash is in the hospital with a hole in his gut. Nearly bled out before getting the chance to meet his child. Blade took a bullet meant to kill him. And Riley was on his knees ready to meet the other side when we rolled up. I had about three seconds to make a choice and I chose the brothers on their knees looking at execution. You think that’s murder? Me protecting my club family?”
Cold slithers through me as that scene imprints into my mind. Had I been there I would’ve done exactly what Nic did, but I want to press a little, see if he bleeds.
“I think there is process for reason.”
His brow flicks up. “You think I should have taken this to Crank? Asked Grub nicely not to kill three brothers in cold blood?”
“No.”
His eyes scan my face, as if he’s trying to draw out lies in hiding beneath the surface. Good luck with that. My expression is a locked vault.
“I did what I had to,” he says eventually.
There’s a hint of remorse, just for a second, but it’s there.
“This club is stitched into my veins, Diesel. I was born into it, lived and breathed every beat of it even before my father put that prospect cut on my back. So, fuck process. I did what I had to do at that moment. I protected brothers who were staring down death, and I don’t regret a single moment of it. ”
I pick up a fry, dipping it in the milkshake and then the sauce, just to keep my hands busy, to give my mind a moment to think. “And now you want to know what side of the line I’m standing on.”
“No.” That surprises me. “I already know.”
“Presumptuous.”
There’s a beat of silence while he just studies me like I’m a specimen under a microscope. “Kid, I brought you into this club. I watched you grow in it. Maybe no one else knows you, but I do.”
He’s probably right about that, even though me and Dash had bonded over our near-death experience. “So why send Riot? Why the big show?”
There’s a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “He was meant to bring you back, not cause shit.”
I snort. “Trouble in the ranks already? That bodes well.”
“The guy’s on edge,” Nic snaps. “Can you blame him? He’s got a lot to lose.”
“We all have shit to lose, Nicky.”
“Yeah. And that’s why I need to hear this from you directly. Are you going to fight with us? I wouldn’t have doubted it before, but things are… complicated now.”
Because of Makenna. “Nothing’s changed.”
He leans forward on the table, menacing. “Everything’s changed. You have priorities that ain’t just the club now.”
It’s a fair point, but it doesn’t stand up considering everyone else has family, old ladies. “So do half the brothers you’ve recruited into your little coup.”
When he smiles, he flashes his teeth, like a dog snarling. “They never kept those priorities hidden.”
I pop a fry in my mouth as if I don’t have a care in the world, but there’s a boulder sitting in my stomach.
“Respectfully, I don’t give a shit about anyone else.
” I fold my hands together on the table and lean in.
“I’m going to say this once and once only.
Anything happens to her, anything, and there won’t be a hole deep enough for any of you to hide in.
I’ll make what Trick did after he lost Mara look like a fucking yoga retreat. ”
He takes that in for a moment, letting it sink in, letting the tension breathe between us. “No one will touch her. The club doesn’t make a habit of hurting women. You know that.”
“Yeah, because everyone’s really giving a shit about sticking to the bylaws right now.”
He wraps his fingers around the mug in front of him. The coffee looks cold, and he doesn’t try to drink it.
“Shit’s a mess,” he agrees. “But we can fix it.”
“Yeah, and what comes out of the ashes, Nic?”
“Taking back what we were promised when we earned our patches. We create the club it should be again. A place where we don’t have to hide our family, just to keep them safe, where we don’t have to watch our backs against our own brothers.
If my dad was still alive—” His jaw flexes, as he grinds his molars together.
“It fucking destroys me to know that you hid your wife because you were scared she’d get hurt.
That ain’t club, Diesel. At least not any club I recognise.
” He interlaces his fingers on the table, his eyes flaming with the war cry of revolution.
“We need you. I need you. If we do this right, this club can be something worth bringing your family into, but you need to be fully in this. I need to know I can trust you.”
I don’t speak for a few moments because this deserves weight, deserves thought. I rub my fingers over my bottom lip, my mind set on the path ahead.
I want Kenna to have a life that doesn’t make her question if I’m coming home in a box and since I can’t walk away from the club, not without dying, I’m going to make it something worth living for.
“Yeah, I’m in,” I say. “But make no mistake, Nic. You try to put a knife in my back when I’m not looking, and I will burn all of it to the fucking ground myself.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
We fall silent, both just working through our thoughts. “Dash…” I ask. “He pull through?”
All I can think about is his girl, Dayna. She’s fucking crazy, but I like her. She’s… kind, and one of the few people who has never treated me like a freak.
“Yeah,” Nic says. “He pulled through. It’s gonna take some time for him to get back on his feet, but he’s still with us.”
Relief settles in my bones. I like the guy. He talks too much and he’s fucking opinionated, especially about my food choices, but I like him.
“Okay,” I say finally. “I’m in. Let’s take our fucking club back.”
Nic grins. “Yeah, let’s take it all back.”