Chapter Fourteen—Diesel #3
Nostrils flaring, Tío shifted his weight and swiped the back of his hand across his glistening brow. He drew in a deep breath and pasted an unconcerned smile on his face. “Your little show doesn’t impress me. I’m going to shoot you down like a fucking mongrel.”
Studying Tío until he dropped his gaze, Diesel laughed softly.
“You’re a fucking pussy,” he whispered, low.
“You’re about to shit yourself, afraid I’ll pull the fucking trigger.
But I don’t give a fuck. I’ll fucking kill you and not lose sleep.
Or I’ll die and not give a fuck. Fucking kill me.
I DON’T GIVE A FUCK,” he roared, shoving his gun back into the holster and raising his hands above his head.
“Do it, fuckhead. See how long you survive. You’ll have the rest of eternity in hell with me.
Tabitha and Bash especially won’t live to see another fucking day.
I’m a Caldwell son. They’ll go to war for me. ”
Breathing heavily, his eyes wide and shell-shocked, Tío swallowed. “I don’t know a Bash,” he said finally.
Diesel lowered his hands. “I don’t fucking believe you.”
“Look, bro, maybe…maybe, I underestimated you. Uh, I don’t want smoke with the Dwellers.”
“Then walk the fuck away, don’t look back, and we can fucking forget each other’s existence.”
“Tabitha loves you.”
“I give a fuck how?”
“She’s a good fr-friend. She loves you,” he repeated.
“I don’t love her. Never did. Never will. Fuck her.”
A frown pleated Tío’s brow and a glimmer of unease entered his eyes.
The fuckhead was finally getting a clue.
Still, his hands were balling and he was straightening his shoulders.
Preparing to attack. Whether he’d truly feared Diesel at some point, he’d gotten past it.
Diesel was ready for whatever the motherfucker planned.
“Who’s Bash?”
“Poor pitiful boy,” Diesel crooned, laughing nastily. “So fucking inexperienced if you thought to throw me with that pretense. Fuck you.”
“I told you I don’t know Bash.” Anger dropped into Tío’s features. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“No,” Diesel said in a hard voice. “I’m calling you a motherfucking liar.”
“I’ve never met this Bash. I met Tabitha through Shine .”
That shocked Diesel. He’d partied with that motherfucker. “Shine?”
“Tabitha turned to him for consolation. She’s torn apart that you’re separating.”
Narrowing his eyes, Diesel stiffened, his mind whirling. “My wife went to Shine because I filed for legal separation?”
Mistaking Diesel’s annoyance as fucking jealousy, Tío smiled and nodded.
“Shine, huh?”
Again, Tío nodded.
“Thanks for the info.”
“De nada.”
Tío made no move to attack or walk out.
Disappointment surged through Diesel that Tío intended to leave peacefully. “Anything else?”
“No.”
Or maybe the motherfucker didn’t intend to leave peacefully.
A flicker in his gaze, a subtle movement, the barest hint of a smile gave him away.
Diesel slammed an elbow into Tío’s nose, ignoring his scream and the blood gushing from it.
He kneed his balls, then kicked his ribs, before doing the same to his leg, shoulder, and arm.
Repeatedly. Until he heard the unmistakable sounds of breaking bones.
Enraged, he stomped his hands, then removed his guns and knives, searching for a cut or any evidence he was connected to Bash.
Even his driver’s license identified him as Tío Arias-Martinez.
Returning his wallet to his pocket, Diesel dragged him to his feet, gloating at his tears and slobber.
“Now, fuckhead, I’m counting to ten…no, twenty…
ten…a number. If you’re not out of this fucking restaurant by the time I reach the end, I’m breaking your fucking neck.
If you survive and ever fuck with me again, I will fucking kill you so gruesomely, you’ll remember it for the next ten fucking lifetimes.
” He shoved him away, not surprised when the motherfucker gasped for breath and slid along the floor, sobbing, barely able to do that.
“Admirable will to live,” Diesel called. “Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen,” he counted, just to fuck with him.
Humming Bitch Better Have My Money, he dialed his wife’s number.
“Diesel?” she answered on the second ring, her breathless anticipation turning his stomach.
“If you want motherfucking Tío to live, I suggest you call Shine to pick him up, cunt.” He disconnected.
Symphony tipped out, staring at the blood trail and the guns and knives Diesel confiscated.
“Uh—”
He took the money he’d intended to give to Jana out of his pocket and held it out to Symphony. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll deliver another five tomorrow if you can arrive early and clean up my mess.” He looked at his watch again. “I really need to leave. I’m already running behind.”
Once he dropped her off, he had one more stop before he finally made it to the hospital to see Rebel.
She didn’t move to take the money. “O-okay,” she said shakily.
He picked up his cellphone. “Get your purse and the keys to lock up,” he ordered.
She stumbled away, not tarrying and soon returning. She blinked at Diesel.
“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he crooned, stuffing the money in her skirt pocket. “Do you have a jacket? The temperature has dropped.”
“N-no.”
He snatched the keys from her. “Come on.” Placing his hand at the small of her back, he guided her to the door. “Is there any alarm?”
Silent, she turned to a metal box above the light switches, open the small door, and pressed buttons. He quickly followed her out and locked the door, then handed her the keys.
She turned and released a frightened cry.
Tío lay on a small embankment between the parking lot and sidewalk that wrapped around the restaurant. He was unconscious. Or dead.
“Fuck, it’s cold out here,” Diesel said, his breath forming in front of him. Rubbing his hands together, he stepped over Tío’s body, then lifted Symphony so she wouldn’t have to deal with him. Only his Benz was parked. Vaguely, he wondered if Tabitha dropped off the motherfucker.
She must’ve been so disappointed at her plan’s failure.
Sorry, not sorry.
Once he dropped Symphony at her house, which was in walking distance of the diner, he dialed their funeral director. “Lewis,” he greeted. “I need you to fire up the crematorium.”
Not in the mood for pleasantries, Diesel hung up. He was Outlaw’s son. His orders would be followed.
He texted Uncle Christopher.
Sorry about the delay. I’m scooping up Shine. If he plays with fire, then he burns. I’ll explain when I see you.