Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Diesel
Eight days. That's all it took to wreck me.
She's curled into my chest, one hand pressed flat against my stomach, her breathing deep and even. My shirt hangs off her shoulder—I can see the wound there, still healing.
I didn't put that wound there. But the peace on her face? That's mine.
I count her breaths. Let myself have this moment.
A week ago, I wanted Maya to take her somewhere else. Wanted my garage back, my routine, my carefully constructed life where no one got close enough to matter. A week, I told myself. Protect the witness. Keep your distance. Then she testifies and she's gone.
Now she's breathing beside me and I can't remember what my life felt like without her in it.
What if this doesn't have to end?
The thought scares me more than it should.
She could stay. You could have mornings like this. And maybe—maybe you wouldn't destroy it.
I let myself imagine it. Eden at the cottage. Eden in my bed every morning, wearing my shirts, leaving her coffee cup in the sink.
It looks so much like something I don't deserve.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I ease out from under her—careful, slow—and check the screen. Nova. I slip into the other room, keep my voice low.
"Yeah."
"Carver called. Rodriguez is riding along for the pickup—wants to use the drive back to prep Eden for tomorrow."
"What time?"
"They're running early. Six-thirty instead of seven."
Shit. That gives us less than an hour.
"Crow know?"
"Already called him. He's on his way to you."
"Good. We'll be ready."
The line goes dead.
I slip back into the bedroom. Eden's still asleep. I slide in beside her, and she curls into me without waking, her hand finding my chest the way it always does now.
Her breathing changes. I feel the moment she surfaces—the slight tension in her shoulders, the flutter of her eyelashes.
She tips her head back. Green eyes still soft with sleep.
"Hey."
A grunt. But my arms tighten around her.
"You're tense." Her fingers trace my jaw. "What's wrong?"
"Nova called. They moved the pickup to six-thirty. DA's riding along."
Her hand stills. "That's in an hour."
"I know."
Neither of us moves.
"Diesel."
"Yeah?"
She doesn't answer. Just rises up and kisses me.
Not like last night—desperate, hungry, both of us trying to outrun the clock. This is slower. Deliberate. Her mouth warm against mine, her hand sliding up to cup my jaw, her body pressing into me, memorizing the shape of us together.
I let myself have it. Let myself kiss her back without thinking about the trial or the drive or any of the shit waiting outside these walls. Just her mouth. Her hands. The soft sound she makes against my lips.
When she pulls back, her lips are swollen. Her eyes are bright.
"Shower with me."
Three words. My whole body tightens.
"Eden—"
"We have an hour." Her hand slides down my chest. "I don't want to waste it."
I should say no. Should let her get ready, keep her head clear for what's coming.
Instead I follow her to the bathroom.
The cottage's ancient pipes groan when she turns on the water. The shower is barely big enough for one person—two is impossible. We make it work anyway.
I have to hunch to fit under the spray. She laughs at the way my shoulders press against both walls, and the sound breaks me wide open. I'll remember that laugh for the rest of my life.
We don't have time for slow. But we take it anyway—her back against the tile, my hands braced on either side of her, steam rising around us. Water running down green skin and pale. Her nails digging into my shoulders. My name on her lips.
After, I wash her hair. Work the soap through slowly, taking more time than I need to. She leans into my hands, eyes closed, trusting me completely.
I memorize it. All of it. The curve of her spine. The way she sighs when my fingers find her scalp. The weight of her against my chest.
One day wasn't enough. One day of letting myself have this—have her—and I'm already ruined for anything else.
The water runs cold before either of us moves. We dry off without talking—neither of us ready to break the spell. She wraps herself in a towel and I press a kiss to her shoulder, right above the wound, before I make myself walk away.
We don't have time for our usual routine, so instead I cook some eggs in a pan and put toast in the toaster, just in case she's hungry, though I already know she's not.
She appears in the doorway a few minutes later, hair damp, wearing the same clothes she arrived in. Ready to face whatever comes next.
"Smells good."
"Sit. Eat."
She slides into her chair. I set a plate in front of her. Pour her coffee. Two sugars. Splash of milk.
She picks at the eggs. I knew she wouldn't be hungry.
"You gonna miss this place?"
She looks up. Holds my gaze.
"No. Because I'm bringing the best part of it with me."
For a second, I can't breathe.
Then I hear tires on gravel.
We both go still. I check my watch. Six twenty-two. Early.
I'm already moving. Hand on Eden's arm, guiding her against the wall away from the windows. She doesn't fight it. Just follows my lead.
I move to the window. Shift the curtain just enough to see.
A black SUV rolls up the drive. Behind it—Ash's Bronco, my bike strapped to the trailer. The tension in my shoulders loosens.
The SUV stops. Driver's door opens. A man steps out—fifties, tired eyes, rumpled suit.
"Carver," Eden says. She's moved to the other window, peering through the gap. "The detective."
The back door opens. A woman climbs out. Mid-forties. Sharp suit. Her eyes sweep the property, the cottage, the tree line—assessing, dismissing.
"And that's Rodriguez. The DA."
The Bronco's doors open. Ash steps out, Maya right behind him. Crow's bike rumbles up the drive a second later.
"They're with Ash," I say. "We're good."
I open the door. Step onto the porch.
Rodriguez is already walking toward me, heels somehow not catching in the gravel. Her eyes find mine and I catch a flicker across her face—not the fear I'm used to, but distaste. Gone before I can be sure I saw it.
She's not afraid of orcs. She just doesn't like them.
Carver steps around her, extending his hand. "Mr. Diesel. I wanted to thank you personally for keeping our girl safe."
Our girl.
Something stirs behind my ribs. The beast, cracking one eye open.
I shake his hand anyway. Carver's been Eden's one constant through all of this—the safe house, the running, the waiting. If she trusts him, I can tolerate the possessive language.
"She kept herself safe," I say. "I just made sure no one got close enough to test her."
Carver's mouth twitches. Almost a smile. "Either way. We're grateful."
"Inside," Rodriguez says, already turning toward the door. "We're sitting ducks out here."
The cottage feels smaller with all of them in it. Rodriguez positions herself in the center of the living room. Carver hovers near the door. Eden stands frozen in the kitchen doorway.
Maya goes straight to her. Ash takes up position near me.
"Now that we're all here." Rodriguez doesn't waste time. Her eyes cut to Carver. "I only learned this morning where our witness has been for the past week. Detective Carver felt it was safer not to share that information."
"It was safer," Carver says quietly. "The fewer people who knew—"
"I understand the reasoning." Rodriguez's voice is clipped. "But if I had known she was being housed with an orc motorcycle club, I would have found an alternative. Immediately."
"It wasn't official," Carver says. "That was the point. No paper trail. No leaks."
"And now we have a different problem." Rodriguez turns to Eden. "The defense has been digging. They know you disappeared after the safe house attack. They know you've been off-grid for over a week. What they don't know—yet—is where you've been or who you've been with."
She lets that sink in.
"If they find out, they'll use it against us. Not in the trial itself—your testimony is too strong—but in the press. In appeals. They'll paint you as unstable. Suggestible. Claim you were unduly influenced by people with their own reasons to want Venetti put away."
"That's ridiculous," Eden says. "The Ironborn have nothing to do with Venetti."
"The Ironborn have a reputation for putting bad guys behind bars by any means necessary.
" Rodriguez doesn't blink. "The Hargrove case and appeals have been front-page news in Atlanta for two years.
Twelve jurors know exactly who they are, and the defense will use that.
" Her eyes move from me to Ash. "Which is why we need to discuss Ironborn involvement going forward. "
I know what's coming. Every muscle in my body tenses.
Ash shifts beside me. "Our involvement."
"The trial starts tomorrow. Eden testifies in the morning.
If everything goes as planned, verdict by end of day.
" She pauses. "What I need is for her to walk into that courtroom with absolutely nothing the defense can use against us.
No scandals. No questions. No orc MC member in the gallery drawing media attention. "
"So what are you saying?" Ash's voice is hard. "We can't be there?"
"I'm saying your presence would turn this trial into a circus. 'Witness hides with biker gang, orc enforcer shows up to intimidate the jury.' It writes itself."
"No."
The word rips out of me before I can stop it. Everyone turns.
"I told her I'd be there." I step forward. "Every step. That was the plan."
Rodriguez's eyes narrow. "Plans change, Mr. Diesel."
"On your watch, she got shot." I jab a finger toward Carver. "Your safe house. Your security. She's got a bullet wound in her shoulder because your people couldn't keep her safe." The beast stirs in my chest, that old familiar rage clawing its way up. "That's not happening again."
"Mr. Diesel—"
"I'm going." My voice drops into something not quite human. A growl building in my throat. "She's not walking into that courthouse without me."