Chapter Twenty—Diesel
He had to fucking get himself together.
When Uncle Christopher pinioned Diesel’s hand to the podium during Church, he’d gotten off lucky. Had the wound been in a different place on his hand, the injury could’ve been much more severe. Uncle Christopher chose a spot to get his message across but not damage Diesel too greatly.
Now, Aunt Meggie was on the warpath. He definitely didn’t want to set her off.
Her working to diffuse a situation was a thing of the past. If he lost her trust, he was dead.
He’d tried to play her by claiming Jana carried his child.
She was right, though. It was also because he wanted to hurt Rebel for saying she liked Kaia.
It made Diesel feel expendable and second best.
That was part of the reason he’d told Aunt Meggie he knew she felt as if he wasn’t good enough for Rebel—now or later. But his adopted mother—his mom—wasn’t having it.
A smile played at the edges of Diesel’s lips. Aunt Meggie was his mom. He wondered what she’d say if he ever called her Mom like the rest of the boys.
If Jana had been pregnant, Diesel wouldn’t have been happy.
He didn’t want fucking kids. He didn’t want to bring a child into this world, look at it one day, and regret its birth.
Or bring a child into the world to a drug addict mom and him.
One reason he didn’t give a fuck about what he did to anyone else was because he didn’t give a fuck about himself.
Death didn’t frighten him. As a matter of fact, he saw it as an escape from all his torment and doubts.
No matter. Dying wasn’t the issue. Uncle Christopher killing him or Aunt Meggie ordering his execution was. Either meant he’d let them down.
Sighing, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his Mercedes, parked at the club-owned trailer park, near the graveyard.
He reached for his phone to make a call, but the door opened and Fia slid in, much more collected than when he’d seen her in the hospital cafeteria. He’d call her on her bullshit later.
“Address?”
“7734 Merriweather Lane.”
Once she strapped herself in, he swerved away. Rebel’s sweet voice, insisting she liked Kaia, echoed in his head.
Aunt Meggie was right. Reb was young. Unlike Uncle Christopher, who was just under fifteen years older than Aunt Meggie, Diesel was a little over fifteen years older than Rebel.
When she turned eighteen, he’d already be thirty-three.
Like Rory and Devon’s birthdays, Diesel’s was in March.
No one spoke of celebrating his upcoming dirty thirty.
He understood. Who could think of partying when his family had almost lost CJ and Rebel in the span of weeks?
“Why are you doing this?” Fia’s quiet voice rose in the silence of the car. “I’m not good enough for you?”
“I’m not getting into a fucking relationship with her, Fia,” Diesel responded, refusing to explain why he needed to do this and see—
“Then why?” Fia demanded. “Tommi’s my little sister. That cunt already fucked my ex. Now you want to fuck her, too?”
He hoped not, but he just didn’t know. He had an uncontrollable self-destructive gene.
Fia sniffled. “Don’t do this. You can fuck me in the ass if you take me back to the club.”
“I won’t turn you down, but you’re not changing my mind. If you’re still willing to give me ass later, then we’ll party.”
“If you fuck Tommi, I’ll never fuck you again,” she spat.
“Bitch, please. It isn’t as if I need your pussy. Yours is one of many I fuck.”
“You’re a selfish asshole.”
“But a good lover. I don’t get off until I make you come two or three times.”
She swiped her cheeks. “I can’t believe Nyx is dead,” she said in a small voice, changing the subject. Her turned down mouth indicated she didn’t want to, but she knew Diesel had finished discussing the issue.
“I can. Her fucking brain was useless. She wouldn’t learn.”
“She was my friend.”
“She was an annoying cunt.”
“How can you say that? You fucked her a lot. You fucked her less than an hour before her death.”
“And?”
“It doesn’t bother you that you saw her ecstasy face, came in her, licked her pussy sometimes, and now she’s just gone?”
“Not one fucking bit. Sex is a part of life. Like death.”
“Sex leaves you open and vulnerable.”
“Not me. My end goal is emptying my nuts. That’s it.” Once again, he thought of Jana. She was vulnerable. It was bad enough she’d be in Rebel’s path. He wouldn’t allow the club girls to harass her.
One thing at a time.
“Turn at that stoplight,” Fia said morosely, pointing. “Can I become an official club girl?” she asked as Diesel made the turn.
“I don’t see why you can’t. When’s your twenty-first birthday?”
“Late summer.”
“I’ll talk to Outlaw.”
“Thank you.”
Ten minutes later, Diesel pulled in front of a small house in one of Hortensia’s older neighborhoods. Rundown and ramshackle, it was just the type of place he’d grown up in.
By the time he exited the car, Fia had reached the porch. The women he dealt with knew better than to expect chivalry from him. He only gave that to Jana, in desperate need of kindness.
“Fia!” a girl cried. “I thought you were joking, sis.”
Diesel climbed the two steps and followed Fia into the warmth of the house. “I don’t joke about shit like that, Tommi,” she grumbled.
Tommi lived here with two other sisters—one two years older and the other five years younger. The four sisters had lived together, until a few months ago when Tommi slept with one of Fia’s boyfriends, and Fia moved to the trailer park.
Diesel took in the old furniture, cracked walls, and peeling paint. Brown water spots dotted the ceiling. It was small and oppressive. Despite the bowl of potpourri on the rickety coffee table, a wet, moldy scent permeated the air.
But for the grace of God, this could’ve been him.
The thought startled him. It had been years since he’d felt grateful for that fateful day Digger entrusted his fifteen-year-old self with CJ and the responsibility of contacting Outlaw.
“Do you want a drink, Diesel?” Tommi asked.
She was sixteen, exquisite, tall—almost six feet—with a body to worship. “I don’t,” he responded, walking to the sofa and sitting, appreciating her see-through slip that stopped just below her ass cheeks.
Tossing her blonde hair, she turned and licked her lips. Her nipples beaded against the cheap material. Unbidden, she snatched the slip over her head and tossed it aside. She fingered her already glistening pussy.
But she was sixteen. As beautiful and as smokin’ as she was, he couldn’t overcome her age. His cock didn’t even stir.
She sashayed to him, a smile playing on her full lips, her eyes gleaming. She had no shortage of confidence.
And, yet…yet…
She was sixteen. Older than Rebel, but still underaged. Why the fuck couldn’t he get that message about Rebel? What the fuck in his brain had short-circuited?
He’d fucked up. Not only with Uncle Christopher and Aunt Meggie, but with Rebel herself. He’d been both reckless and fickle. Reckless by the standards of his parents and fickle in the eyes of Rebel.
Now, she liked Kaia, bad poet emo boy.
The thought drove Diesel insane.
Tommi settled onto his lap, wrapped her legs around his waist and ground against him.
Growling, Diesel stood and she squeaked. He saved her from falling at the last minute, then helped to steady her as she balanced herself on her feet. He dug in his pocket and came out with a preloaded debit card.
From experience, he knew better than to have ready cash in a neighborhood like this. That was one of the final straws for his mother—someone breaking in and stealing the rent money she’d worked so hard to earn.
When he’d come up with the idea to test the essence of himself, he’d stopped at the supermarket and grabbed a gift card before picking up Fia.
He handed the card to Tommie, then looked at her sister.
“Come on,” he growled to Fia, and stalked out of the house.
A moment later, she walked out. The bracing air calmed him, though nothing dispelled Rebel from his brain.
Or her liking Kaia. An idea came to him and he smiled at Fia.
“I have a job for you.” As he walked to his car, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Kaia’s number.
“Did you meet Fia at Nyx’s initiation?” Diesel asked a few minutes later when Kaia swung open the door to his studio apartment that sat above the garage of a house near Tommi’s place.
Kaia swept his blue-gray gaze over Fia. Her tits were about to pop out of her low-cut dress. She’d left her jacket and her panties in the car.
“If you don’t remember me, I remember you,” Fia cooed, flouncing past Kaia and into his house. “You’re hard to forget since you resemble Diesel so closely.”
Diesel and Kaia exchanged glances. That motherfucker resembled Diesel in his fucking dreams. Diesel had never been an emo fuckhead. He wouldn’t be caught dead in cuffed pants, white socks, and an oversized white shirt.
What the fuck did Rebel see in this stupid motherfucker?
But he wasn’t there to make war. Tonight.
“We could pass for siblings,” Diesel drawled, walking into the messy little place with dishes in the sink, an unmade air mattress, and clothes on the floor and the loveseat. Glasses lined a stand and blocked half the small TV screen.
Diesel set his phone on the table among notebooks, pens, and pencils.
Fia shoved clothes aside, sat on the loveseat, and threw Kaia a sultry smile. “Do you have beer, love?”
Kaia’s gaze roamed from her lips to her tits. She crossed her legs, exposing a creamy thigh all the way to her hip. It was clear she wore nothing underneath her dress.
She licked her lips. “I’m so parched.”
“Uh…” Kaia swallowed, glanced at Diesel, then turned away. “Rebel…uh, how’s Rebel?”
“In the hospital,” Diesel said calmly.
Kaia snapped his gaze to Diesel. “What?”
“Minor incident. You should visit her.” Diesel couldn’t be accused of sabotage with such a generous invitation. “It’ll cheer her up.”