6. Diesel
Diesel
The night sky is a dull, starless gray, a thick blanket of clouds threatening more than a sprinkle. A cold droplet hits my cheek as I stub out the remaining bit of my cigarette against my jeans to finish later.
Good. Let it rain. Let it pour.
Maybe then she’ll press herself against my back, arms locked around my waist, her face buried in my leather cut for warmth. She’ll cling to me that much tighter if she thinks the drive will be any less safe.
The thought sparks a smirk I have to physically wipe away with a rough hand.
I’m fucking gone for her. Completely. In such a short time, Ruby has rewired my brain, turning a man who thrives on violence into someone who daydreams about being squeezed to death.
I’m craving a future a man like me has no right to even picture.
This morning… waking up with her curled into my chest, her hair tickling my chin, her breath soft and even against my skin… it felt like a glimpse of something I was never meant to see.
It wasn’t just lust. Lust is a simple, hungry fire. This is a deep, steady burn that’s settled in my bones. This is love. It’s the only explanation for why my chest feels like an empty, echoing cavern the second she’s not here by my side.
Cursing softly at the blissful thought, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself looking like some lovesick fool.
A few minutes late isn’t terrible. Gives me time to figure out what I’m going to say to her when she does come out.
I dread telling her about my findings.
The prospects found nothing to report about, so I did a little looking myself.
Despite sitting outside of her home for a few hours, and enjoying the comfort of her couch for a few more, I’ve gotten nothing out of it besides discovering her love for candles.
She’s already gotten Christmas ones ready to burn.
Am I going to have to buy a few for my place so she’ll want to stay over? Better yet, can I convince her to move her collection over where we can enjoy them together?
Yeah, no question about it. I’m not just a little lost. I’m truly gone.
Even if today was a failure, we can try again tomorrow. Over and over until she finds herself coming with me on her own, even after her problem has been solved.
As each minute passes without her strolling through the side doors, something doesn’t sit right with me. How long do I wait until I go inside to find her myself?
While I’m not supposed to be putting any attention on myself, I’m not someone who is fond of waiting. I’ve got zero patience.
Sure, I can keep daydreaming like a fool, but I’m starting to get worried now.
As the doors slide open and another worker steps out, my frown comes back fuller than ever. Leaning against the handles of my bike, something swims around in my gut. A bad feeling.
What if there’s a reason why I didn’t catch her stalker in the act? What if he’s doing the same thing I am, waiting? What if he’s closer than I thought he’d be?
He’s a coward who only intimidates her from a distance. What if he decided today was the day?
The buzz of my phone all but confirms my worries. Seeing Ghost’s contact freezes me over faster than the weather.
Answering it without missing a beat, I can feel my heart lodged in my throat.
I asked our hacker to keep an eye on her during his downtime. Promised him a favor if he’d do me one. Seems he’s found something, or someone.
He doesn’t give me time to say hello. Instead, his voice comes out clear. “Back entrance. Now.”
My bike would get me there instantly, but the roar of the engine would give me away just as quickly. Not knowing how far Ghost’s eyes reach, I don’t risk it.
Jumping off my bike, I run with my phone clutched in my hand. Can’t even be bothered to hear his status. All I know is there’s one place I need to be.
My boots thud against the wet asphalt as something foreign trickles through my veins. Fear.
I can’t remember the last time I felt it. Not when I’m talking with my fists. Not even for Chelsea, since I know her husband will keep her safe.
Fear can get a man killed, but here I am, using it as fuel, willing my feet to eat up the pavement. The fear isn’t for me; it’s a cold, sharp needle in my gut, pricking with every second Ruby is out of my sight.
Then I see them. Silhouetted under the harsh dock lights. Ruby and a man. Too close. The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
My heart isn’t just crashing; it’s a sledgehammer trying to beat its way out of my chest. The distance between us feels like a mile. Every step is too slow, a nightmare of what can happen to her in the time I waste by not being quick enough.
My phone is a forgotten weight. I let it slip from my fingertips, the crack of plastic on asphalt a distant sound.
My world has narrowed to the space between his hand and her arm.
I don’t think. I act. My hand closes on the bastard’s jacket, and I wrench him back with a force that sends him stumbling.
The only thing that matters is putting space between him and her.
Then I see it. The glint of steel in his fist.
The world doesn’t just disappear; it explodes in a silent, red roar. The fear, the worry, the last shreds of my control—it all vaporizes in the white-hot furnace of my rage.
A knife. He brought a knife to terrorize her. To threaten her.
My eyes snap from the blade to Ruby. She’s horrified, her arms pressed like her chest as her eyes move around like she doesn’t know where to look.
The imprint of his fingers feels like a brand on my own soul when I see the mark on her skin. He’s touched her. Has he hurt her? Is that why she’s gone so pale?
His voice is a meaningless buzz, a fly trying to be heard over a hurricane. I don’t hear words. I see his mouth moving, and all I can think is that he’s using the same breath he used to threaten her.
He moves, a frantic, stupid lunge. I see the arc of the blade, but I don’t retreat. I meet it. The sting as it sinks into my arm is nothing. A pinprick. A confirmation.
This piece of shit brought his knife to fight. Unlike him, I don’t need a blade to get my message across.
He’s cursing me, his face twisted, blaming me. The irony is so profound it feeds the inferno. He threatened what’s mine, put his hands on her, and now he has the audacity to blame me for ruining everything?
The pain in my arm is a distant throb, a dull counterpoint to the symphony of fury screaming in my head. It’s not enough. Pulling him away wasn’t enough. The knife in my arm isn’t enough. The only thing that will be enough is when he’s no longer capable of drawing breath to say her name.
Her stalker tries to twist the blade to cause more pain, but I’m reaching out to wrap my fingers around his throat.
“You threatened her.” The words slip between the cracks of my clenched teeth.
He sputters as I cut off his windpipe. Through my rage, I hear my name being called within the haze, soft as a songbird’s melody.
“You touched what is mine.” Growling, my fingers ache with how much pressure I’m applying.
Judge’s words are a blur in the back of my mind. Hell, I even tell myself to let go, but my body doesn’t listen.
All I want to do is take away the problem completely. I don’t want Ruby to feel this fear ever again, to worry about this bastard growing brave the next time she’s caught alone.
I don’t want to risk losing something that’s now important to me.
Pain stings my hands and wrists as he claws for air. I’m surprised he doesn’t try to take his pathetic knife back to slit my wrists, but that’s only because the fear of dying is that intense. It makes even common sense impossible.
Feeling his pulse flutter beneath my fingers, I don’t let go. Even after his limbs go limp and his face reddens a crimson shade, I squeeze hard enough to leave marks against his throat before letting his body crumple to the ground.
Even after his death, I don’t cool down. I’m still angry at both him and myself.
I wish the bastard were alive so I could kill him again.
My phone buzzes against the ground, and I don’t have to look over to know someone is trying to get back in contact with me.
If Ghost is still watching, which I know he is, Judge will be the first to know what I’ve done. He’s going to be pissed. It could be him calling. Or our hacker, or even the Vice President. Who knows at this point?
Fuck. My fingernails dig into my palms just thinking about it.
Even if I had the excuse to hurt him, killing a man is never good.
Hard to cover up, and that’s exactly what they’ll try to do.
I’m willing to bet Grim is already on his way here, already thinking up the different ways to trick the cops.
Will Ghost destroy the footage? Will he keep the heat away from the beauty who has a talent for pulling in bastards?
Ruby.
I expect her to be gone. Hell, she’s just watched me take a man’s life. She has all the reasons to run and find a cop if they haven’t completely ruined her trust in them.
She’s not gone.
She’s right here, her features pale, but her form is here. She won’t look at him, but the look on her face says it all. There’s no denying she knows.
I look over her quickly, searching for any injuries. If something happened to her while she was under my care, I don’t know what I’d do with myself.
There are no cuts, no foreign blood on her, but the forming bruise on her arm—a lurid, purple shadow in the shape of a grip—stares back at me like an accusation. A permanent mark of my failure.
“My fault,” I rasp, the apology torn from a place of raw shame. I’m numb, hollowed out by my own rage, until her palms find my cheeks. Her warmth sears through the cold shell I’ve become.
“ Finn .” My real name. A title I let no one use but two people, because behind it carries the weight of the past I left behind. Using it against me, she whispers it again, her voice pulling my hazy focus back to her. “This is bad. Really bad. He’s dead, isn’t he?”
I force a nod, my throat tight. I cradle her hands, those gentle hands now stained by my world, and give them a desperate squeeze before letting go. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“You can leave.” The words are forced, each one cutting me on the way out. I have to step back, creating a physical chasm before I crumble and pull her into me forever. “Steelwood can clean this up. They can make you disappear from this, Ruby. You can go home. You’re safe now.”
I have to say it. I have to offer her the escape I’m not strong enough to deny her. It’s the only way to prove I’m not a monster all of the time. There’s still a little good left in me. The good I save for those I care about.
What I don’t expect is the way her face fractures. Her bottom lip trembles, and the sheen in her eyes isn’t from the rain. It’s a heartbreak I caused.
“You don’t want me?” The four words are a whisper, but they hit me with the force of a balled fist. “You want me to leave you here alone?”
Fuck. This is the poison of hope. This is why I build walls.
“I want you, Ruby.” The confession is ripped from the deepest, most selfish part of me. It feels like dragging sandpaper through my throat. “I want you as bad as that bastard did. The difference is, if you stay… like him, I won’t ever be able to let you go.”
The truth hangs in the air, ugly and final. This is me. This is the real Diesel. The possessive, the obsessive. Now she sees it. Now she’ll run.
Except she doesn’t.
She doesn’t just close the space between us; she leaves nothing behind. Her hands fly up, but this time there’s no gentleness. She grabs my face, her fingers pressing into my jaw, and yanks me down to her level. There’s no hesitation, no fear in her eyes—only a fierce, blazing certainty.
Then she kisses me.
It’s not a soft kiss. It’s a collision. An answer I desperately need. It’s her saying, without a single word, that she’s not afraid of the monster. That she’s choosing the terrifying route.
She’s picking me.