Chapter Fourteen—Diesel #2
“I understand, babe. You think her actions led to everything else. But that guy made a choice, too. Neither of what they did was your fault. You were a minor. They had a responsibility to you. Please stop torturing yourself. You deserve the world at your feet. You have it. Be thankful for it and embrace the life you found.”
“You’re too sweet for me,” Diesel said quietly.
“Never!” She released a dramatic sigh. “Besides my words went in one ear and out the other. You’re committed to hating her.”
“I’ll try to do better,” he swore, meaning it. “I just need–”
“Your little sister home to think clearer. I understand.” Jana’s face lit up.
“I have a brilliant idea. Why don’t we wait for the dinner until she’s released and you can bring her and Axel to meet Mom and Dad?
Or her and CJ? We don’t have the biggest table, so there wouldn’t be room for your entire family. ”
Rebel wouldn’t fucking behave, so Jana’s idea would never come to fruition.
Another text message reminded him he hadn’t read the previous one.
UNKNOWN: Mr. Caldwell, will you meet with me?
UNKNOWN: Please help me, sir. Give me your location so I can head your way.
Fine. I’m at Tee Tee’s Burger Joint. On Route 1555 in Hortensia.
UNKNOWN: I know the location. I’ll be there in thirty.
See you then.
After sending the text to the mysterious client, Diesel ordered Jana’s Uber, then escorted her to the car once it arrived.
Returning inside the restaurant, Diesel found Symphony clearing his table. He hadn’t seen her in almost an hour.
“Oh, uh, I thought you’d left,” she said.
“I was just seeing my friend to her ride,” he said, sitting again.
“Okay.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Can I get you anything else?”
He was the last patron left, and she looked dead on her feet. “Someone else is meeting me here,” he told her. “If that’s okay.”
“I’ll let Tee know. Just ignore his yelling when it starts.”
“I won’t need food, sweetheart. Just drinks.”
She nodded and started off. “You’re CJ’s brother, aren’t you? Mort’s, uh, nephew?”
“I am.” No other explanation needed. Many people knew CJ; everyone knew Mort.
“I’ll tell Tee.” She was a gorgeous girl with long legs, round tits, and high cheekbones. Her dark skin looked soft and inviting.
“As long as food isn’t required, he’ll let me lock up.”
Diesel lowered his lashes, ignoring how kissable her full lips seemed and his sudden erection. “He doesn’t trust you on the grill?”
Symphony giggled, drawing Diesel’s attention back to her mouth. “Not since the grease fire.”
“That explains it,” he said, laughing. “Self-preservation.”
“Exactly. Give me a few minutes.”
She sashayed away, her small waist calling attention to her luscious ass, and her little mini skirt. He hadn’t fucked in four days and–
Bitch Better Have My Money by Rihanna blasted into the silence. Axel was calling.
“I won’t be too much longer, Ax,” Diesel promised in greeting.
“Come as soon as you can,” Axel ordered. “That motherfucker worked on my last nerve—”
Diesel straightened and snapped his brows together. “What motherfucker?”
Axel ignored him. “Ransom, Ryder and me are thinking of ways to bomb his house without killing everybody else.”
Tamping down laughter, Diesel shook his head, relieved an old nemesis had annoyed Axel. “Neither Uncle Christopher or Aunt Meggie would like it if you bombed Johnnie’s house.”
“Fuck Uncle Johnnie,” Axel blared. “That motherfucker is for bomb number two. I’m talking about Uncle Cash.”
“I beg your fucking pardon?” Diesel sputtered. “You cannot bomb Cash’s house, Axel.”
“He’s a motherfucker, too. Aunt Fee needs to be freed. And blowing him up would leave one less traitor for Dad to deal with.”
Gritting his teeth, Diesel yanked at his hair. Jesus Christ, why the fuck had he opened his fucking mouth? “We’ll talk about it when I get there.”
“When are you coming?” Axel said again, a little less irritable. “Dad’s waiting for you before we see Rebel. He thinks it’s better if we all see her together.”
That announcement didn’t hit Diesel right. Of course, seeing her brothers all at once would be less tiring, so he dismissed his bout of panic. He considered rescheduling but the person was already on the way and Jana would ask about the meeting. “Give me an hour.”
“Let me talk, Ax,” Ryder demanded in the background.
“Diesel?” a man called, and Diesel sidled a glance in that direction.
“I’ll call you back,” he said, hanging up before either of his brothers answered.
Straightening, he turned his full attention to the man.
A vaguely familiar motherfucker stood inches away from him, swaths of black hair falling onto his swarthy skin, his hazel eyes bright with anticipation and his mouth curled into a sneer.
Definitely not a motherfucker who’d send such a heartfelt plea.
This had nothing to do with a fucking legal case. He’d been set the fuck up. Fury pounded through Diesel.
“Make sure Symphony gets home safe,” Tee called, storming through the double doors separating the kitchen and dining room. Symphony trailed behind him. “You motherfuckers got to stop taking advantage of my generosity.”
She shifted her weight and gave Diesel a weak smile.
Keeping one eye on the newcomer, Diesel winked at her. “Take your displeasure up with Mortician, Tee.”
Glaring at him, Tee stomped out of the place.
“When I address someone with such politeness, I expect an immediate response.” The motherfucker who’d chosen tonight to die stepped closer and casually opened his leather jacket. He was strapped. Without invitation, he dropped into Jana’s chair. “Few motherfuckers show me such disrespect.”
Eyeing the asshole, Diesel smirked. “Symphony, sweetheart, give my friend and I some privacy.”
Not questioning his order, she hauled ass to the kitchen.
“Luckily, I’m not few motherfuckers.” Diesel held out his hand. “I’m Diesel Caldwell.” Which he was sure the motherfucker already knew. “And you are?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course,” Diesel said with the utmost politeness. “Any miserable motherfucker who goes through the fucking trouble you did to get my fucking attention must want me to know their name before I rip off their fucking head and shove it up their cockhole.”
Fury hardened his face. “What if I told you I was your worst fucking nightmare?”
Corny ass line. Unimpressed, Diesel dropped his hand.
“And what if I told you that’s fucking doubtful?
The only fucking reason I want to know your fucking name is because I don’t enjoy killing strangers,” he lied.
He didn’t give a fuck. Names usually weren’t important if he, or the club, marked a motherfucker for death.
This was different. He wanted to know who the fuck enacted this elaborate plan.
Laughter exploded from the stranger. “I’m Tío. A name to remember. A name that should make you shiver when you hear it.”
Diesel snorted. “I don’t have time for the fucking theatrics and worse deliveries. I’m not amused or impressed. Tell me what the fuck you want and then get the fuck out of my face. I’m in a good mood, so I’ll give you the chance to walk the fuck away in one piece.”
Tío narrowed his eyes. In that moment he looked so much like CJ that Diesel blinked.
Fuck.
“You’re annoying me, so get out of my fucking face.”
“I’m annoying you?” Tío laughed again, an unhinged sound that pissed Diesel off so much, he almost shot the fuck out of him.
Somehow, he wrestled his temper under control. If this was Bash’s son, killing him for no fucking reason would spin shit out of control.
“I resent that.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck about what you resent?” Diesel barked, furious he’d listened to Jana.
“You should.”
Despite what she’d endured, she still believed in people. Instead of trusting her kindness he should’ve known better.
“I’m here on a very important matter, for a very important person. Fucking over her, fuck’s over me.”
Fucking over her? Diesel squinted. Considered Tío’s smugness as if he were in on a great fucking secret. How many fucking times had he wanted to throw her from the top of the Burj Khalifa? Immediately, he knew who’d put Tío up to this stunt. Tabitha. That fucking bitch.
Not for nothing, someone sent Tío to put Diesel in his place. If it was Tabitha, then she thought to force him to her will and she was admitting she knew Bash.
If it was Bash? Then, Uncle Christopher would know why the motherfucker was involving himself in personal shit and sending his son–nephew?--as henchman.
Tired of her games, Diesel grabbed Tío’s throat, dragged him to his feet and shoved his gun into his mouth. “Hands up, motherfucker. Or should I say cousin?”
Those hazel eyes widened.
Diesel cocked the hammer, glad he’d pulled his .38 Special, instead of his .9mm. “Hands the fuck up before the back of your throat is gone.”
Tío lifted his hands.
Jiggling the gun, Diesel squeezed Tío’s neck, applying enough pressure to get his point across but not enough for him to lose consciousness if it went on for an extended period. “Maybe, I should fucking kill my lovely wife? What do you say?”
Fuck all. Tío merely stared at Diesel.
“Huh, motherfucker? I can’t hear you.”
Tío grunted.
“Hmmm. I have a better idea. Ripping off your goddamn head and bringing it to Uncle Christopher. I’ll let him fuck up that cunt.
” He laughed wildly. “I’d dance in her fucking blood and piss on her goddamn graves.
I’d cut her up myself and dig each little hole.
I’d record her fucking screams and jerk off to the sound.
You want to fuck with us? She wants to fuck with us?
Do your fucking homework and know who you’re fucking with. ”
Tío nodded. Although Diesel shoved him away, he kept his gun on him and ready to fire.
“I can kill you, Diesel.” Tío nodded toward the door. “Lie in wait for you and cut you down as you walk out.”
“Ha. Rule number one is not to give away your plans to your enemy.”