Chapter 19
Mad Dog
Ialways knew Willa was going to feel like heaven on the back of my sled and I was right.
She’s wrapped around me like a spider monkey, her warm cheek pressed between my shoulder blades and her hands clasped around my front.
I drop my hand to her calf, squeezing gently as we make the short ride to her cute little house.
“Holy shit,” she murmurs over my shoulder.
“Holy shit is right,” I agree.
The house is lit up like a fucking spaceship, illuminating Switch’s ginger hair to make it look like he’s the one on fire. He’s not. Diesel is. Not full blown fire. More smouldering, as he hangs from Willa’s porch by his ankle.
Judge whistles low while Pops carefully steps up for a closer look.
“When did you say the kids did this?” Wire asks, frown on his face.
“Um, maybe a week or so ago?” Willa answers as she throws her leg over my bike to stand.
I follow her, as the rest of the MC line up along the edge of her grass. The path is blown to shit, and there are small missing patches of lawn and clumps of dirt littered around the front yard.
“A week?” Nitro asks, surveying the damage. “How the hell did you not hurt yourself?” he asks my woman.
She throws her arms up, equally baffled. “No idea! I’ve been up and down that path to get the mail every day. I’ve even been on the lawn picking weeds out.”
We all stare between her front yard and Diesel who seems to have passed out. Hopefully.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Pops chuckles under his breath. “Whatever you fuckers do, don’t move. Willa and the women are safe.”
“Huh?”
“Holy shit,” Grind says. “It’s weight triggered.” He turns to look at the MC. “How old are these kids?”
“Eight.” Blanche answers, making her way up the path, followed by Nat, Ana, Vi and Willa.
Grind coughs in shock, but recovers fast. “So, what’s the plan? We all want a piece of that asshole.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your pound of flesh. Let us deal with it and your fat asses stay out of our way.” Pops waves a dismissive hand in Grind’s direction.
“You know, I’ve killed men who spoke to me like that.”
“Ohh, I’m shaking in my boots,” Pops taunts. “Come over here and get me.”
“Not worth it, Grind,” Marx says. “You shoot at him, his mouth would run ten times worse.”
“And you’d have my Ol Lady to answer to,” Rhodie adds.
Grind shudders. That’s good, the kid has a healthy respect for scary bastards. Maybe he did grow up and learn something up there in BC.
There’s some groaning and then a thud as Pops cuts Diesel down from where he’s hanging. He lands heavily on his shoulder.
“Damn, that sounded like a dislocation,” Rider says.
“Sure did,” I agree.
I hope there's more where that came from. Willa hasn't said much about life with Diesel, but it’s not fucking hard to guess. If I’m honest, I don’t want to know.
That’s Willa’s past. The woman I know, the one I claimed, she’s not the woman that Diesel knew.
My woman is a fucking powerhouse. She knows her mind.
She knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to go out there and get it.
And by the look on her face, what she wants is blood. Diesel’s.
“What do you wanna do, sweetheart?” Pops asks, as he shoves Diesel off the porch into the yard, not even flinching when a small explosion goes off under Diesel’s body.
“Damn,” Tank mutters.
Willa looks around her, at the Ol Ladies at her back, at Pops, at the MC men standing at the edge of her lawn, her gaze finally landing on me. Her gaze searches mine for a moment, and her plump lips tip up.
“I want him in the Rev Room, trussed up. We’re gonna have a little chat and then he’s yours.” She waves at Marx who dips his chin.
“How do you want us to help?” Tav calls. “He’s too heavy for any of you to carry.”
Pops looks down at Diesel, then looks at the women. A shiver rolls down my spine when they all grin at the same time.
“Don’t you worry about us.”
They all stand in a line, shoulder to shoulder, my Willa in the center.
Each place a foot on Diesel and shove, essentially kicking and rolling him over little land mine after little land mine until after five minutes and no less than six mini explosions, Diesel is lying on the sidewalk smelling like burnt fucking hair, open wounds oozing on the concrete.
“Load him up boys!” Pops demands before muttering to the women that the smell of burnt flesh is making him hungry for bacon.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Grind mumbles, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
“I know man, I know,” Gus says, patting his shoulder.
“Dude, that’s your grandpa,” Rider points out.
“We know. That’s why he doesn't scare us,” Tav shrugs. “But I get how other people view him.”
“That is really good self awareness on your part,” Rider says, mounting his ride.
“That’s it! This woman you’ve been sneaking around with. Is she a therapist or some shit because you have been unusually insightful the past couple of months,” Fox yells.
“Oh Foxy,” Rider shakes his head. “You wish you were this insightful.” He flips the bird and roars off into the night.
“He didn’t answer my question,” Fox grumbles.
“Don’t worry, it’s Rider. He can’t keep a secret for long.” Nitro slaps Fox on the shoulder.
“Not to mention every time one of us gets a woman, trouble seems to follow.” Gus adds. “You wait long enough, and whoever he’s sweet on will turn up to the clubhouse looking for help.”
Pops stares at Gus like he’s stupid. “Are you stupid, boy? All the women who turn up actively don’t want our help. It’s you damned men who can’t mind your own business and want to try to rescue all these women who are more than capable of doing shit for themselves.”
“Facts,” I boom into the night, winking at my woman.
“You sure about that, Pops?” Gus replies.
Pops tilts his head for a moment. “How many of our Rev Room guests have the women put down compared to you lot?
“That doesn't count,” Wire argues, “Chewy as the Icer puts down more than any of us. She’s basically at serial killer numbers now.”
“I know!” Pops crows like it’s a glowing achievement. I guess it kinda is. Tuesday is a loose cannon but everything she does is for her family. We’re damn lucky to have her.
I jump a little when Blanche claps her hands, “He’s bagged and tagged. Let's get rolling. I got kids that’ll wake up at around ass crack o’clock and I’d like a few hours beauty sleep before that happens.”
“What my woman wants, my woman gets,” Tav says, smacking a kiss on Blanche’s cheek.
“You heard the woman,” Marx yells out. “Let’s roll!”
Willa
Looking at my watch I know I only have a few moments of peace before the rest of the Ol Ladies turn up.
Chewy sent out a message an hour ago, calling a gathering in the Rev Room.
I’m not sure what she has planned, but I hope it’s painful.
Diesel deserves pain. Not just because he ruined my early adulthood.
Because he’s an asshole who has left a wake of battered, bruised and broken people.
Not me though. I may have thought I was broken at one point, but I’m a goddamned survivor.
Like a badass phoenix rising from the ashes.
Now he’s the one hurting. Breathing harsh around broken ribs.
Lips split, eye swollen shut. When I was in his shoes I was still expected to cook his dinner and suck his cock.
“What are you thinking about?”
Chewy’s sudden voice scares the shit and the words out of me. “Me having to suck his dick when my face looked like that.”
Chewy turns deathly slow, her gaze settling on my left shoulder. “Is that so?”
I nod. I don’t have any words.
“Do you wanna get him back?”
“Huh?” Chewy’s words snap me out of my silence. “Get him back? How?”
“Oh, maybe a little something like this?”
She holds up the gadget in her hand, shocking a gasp from me. I mean, I’ve seen some shit in my life, but nothing like this.
“Is that a massage gun with a dildo on the end?” I stare at it, jumping a little when she turns it on and it violently jabs at the air.
“Why yes, yes it is.” She waggles her brows.
“I was gonna ask if you wanted to use it in his butt, but after what you said, his mouth could be an option. I’ve never actually done that before.
” She raises her brows, looking at me expectantly, bobbing up and down a little as she pats baby Miles’ back in his little front pack.
“Ah,” I’m not sure what to say. It’s messed up. But also, an intriguing offer. “I mean, we could do it a little bit…”
“Or a lotta bit. Up to you. I have other options. Less invasive, more invasive,” she waves a hand around. “Depends on how much we wanna hurt him.” She peers at me for a moment. “I’m betting a lot.”
“But not before we’ve had a little chat with him and you’ve put the baby down.” Rhodie’s gruff voice cuts through the air.
“Hey, what are you doing here? It’s girls only.”
“Babe, you messaged everyone to be here at this time.” Rhodie presses a kiss to her head while Chewy grumbles about hormones messing up her messaging.
The room fills with MC members and their women, everyone gathering behind me respectfully. Miles steps up to my right, with Marx on my left.
“You all good if we ask him a few questions?”
I tilt my head back, looking at Marx. “Why are you asking me? You’re the boss.”
“True. But you’ll be the one who decides how he dies. It’s only fair.”
I stare at him, speechless. For a long time I’ve fantasized about ending Diesel.
Moreso in recent times because the pure rage that swirls inside me when I think of those wasted years with him eats at me.
But in that one sentence I am faced with my fantasies perhaps becoming a reality and that’s a fucking huge thing to wrap my head around.
“Think about it. You can have as little or as much input into that as you like, sweetheart. You don’t have to lift a finger. I will do it for you,” Miles whispers in my ear before pressing a tender kiss to the side of my head.
“Wake him up,” Marx demands.