Diesel #2
“But do you want to fuck her?”
“Do you?” Kaia snapped.
Diesel narrowed his eyes, but didn’t answer. It was now 8:15, meaning Kaia was late for work. He wasn’t sure if Mrs. Caldwell would dock his pay or not. Or fire him. He’d been let go for less.
But Diesel stood between Kaia and the door.
“Rebel has a lot of growing up to do,” Diesel said flatly, circumventing the question. “It’s going to be hard for her when I move Jana here.”
Given what Rebel said about Diesel, Kaia understood.
“She will need a friend, emo boy. It’s logical to think she’ll turn to you.” He jabbed a finger against Kaia’s chest. “Keep your dick to yourself. You need pussy? I’ll find it for you.”
“I won’t trust you ever again in that respect.”
“You should. I’m stuck with you because I don’t have a choice. The same goes for you with me.”
An hour later as Kaia finished sweeping the foyer, Diesel’s words still rang in his head.
“Come with me,” Bishop ordered, standing in the archway entrance to the East Hallway. “Now.”
Cursing under his breath, Kaia laid the broom and dustpan against the console table and stalked behind Bishop, who led him into the kitchen.
Bishop turned to him, placed his hands on his hips, and lifted a brow. His white chef’s hat matched the white apron he wore over his clothes.
“Well?”
“Well what, dude?” Kaia asked in confusion.
“The mess in the kitchen, Kaia.”
He squinted, wondering why Bishop sounded so outraged. “I wash dishes twice a week.”
“You wash dishes every day, asshole. Sometimes several times a day.” Stepping out of the way, Bishop pointed. “There’s the dishwasher. Scrape whatever has food on it, fill it up, and turn it on.”
“That isn’t how I do it, and Mrs. Caldwell told me to keep to my schedule.”
“Did Meggie ask you what the fuck that schedule was?”
“No,” Kaia admitted. “But she trusts I know how to keep a house. She said to do whatever I did at my house.”
“That explains all the goddamn sweeping,” Bishop growled. “Clean this fucking kitchen so I can start prepping for the evening meal, Kaia.”
“Dude, you’re the cook. Shouldn’t you clean the kitchen?”
“You were hired as the housekeeper!”
“I know more about cooking. My mom or my fuck buddies always cleaned up for me.”
“Do you know how to do laundry?”
“Yeah,” Kaia said resentfully. “She told me to dry-clean them.”
“Did you check your tablet with all the information about which services she uses?”
“Nope, because she didn’t give me a notebook and I dry-cleaned them here, so it’s all good.”
“I had a tablet in my room at the club when I accepted her job, so I know you had one.”
“Bishop, dude, I didn’t have a tablet. I don’t even have a pen.”
Heaving in a breath and releasing it, Bishop shook his head. “I think we’re suffering from an extreme lack of communication.”
Before Kaia answered, Mrs. Caldwell’s assistant, Bunny, walked in and froze.
Her eyes widened. “What happened to the kitchen?” Folding her arms, she turned to Kaia.
“Meggie isn’t feeling well,” she said, her tone much friendlier than the irritation on her face.
“You should’ve texted me if you needed help.
Or even called me. That’s what I’m here for until you get the hang of things. ”
“I don’t have your number.”
“It’s in your tablet,” she said. “As is Outlaw’s, Diesel’s, Bishop’s, and Mortician’s. Oh!” She dug in her pocket and came up with an envelope, then held it out to Kaia. “Meggie wanted me to give you this. Money to buy whatever else you need.”
“I-I think she got me everything.”
“Not underwear,” Bunny answered, flapping the envelope. “She didn’t know what style you preferred, and she thought it was too personal, anyway.”
“Thanks,” Kaia said, accepting the envelope, folding it as small as possible, and stuffing it in the pocket of his jeans.
“I know it might be a little overwhelming right now, but don’t forget to use the house spray once you’re done mopping, vacuuming and dusting. Focus on the most heavily used areas every day. Every four to six weeks, run-through the other rooms.”
“Aren’t I supposed to sweep?”
“Of course.”
“He means only sweep,” Bishop supplied.
“Uh…” Bunny’s eyes widened. “Well, no. It’s much more than sweeping. For now, clean the kitchen while I borrow this one.” Smiling, she pointed at Bishop. “Meggie can’t wait to order the clothes for your sister’s baby, but she wants you to pick them out.”
Smirking at Kaia, Bishop sauntered by. “Have fun,” he threw over his shoulder and left Kaia alone with an enormous mess because no one had bothered to even stack the dishes.
Last minute instructions from Outlaw.
Five minutes with Ax.
See Aunt Meggie.
Talk to Kaia.
Check on Jana. Take with?
Final overnight bag inventory.
Hit the road.
Stuffing his list in the inside pocket of his cut, Diesel sat his overnight bag on the floor and closed his bedroom door.
Once he fueled up, he’d hit the road and then cross off his last remaining task.
He fished out the key in his jeans, then turned the lock.
He had a long ride ahead of him. That was the only reason he’d decided against inviting Jana.
He wasn’t sure how she’d fare on the road for fourteen hours.
He didn’t want her to slow him down nor did he want to cause her discomfort, so leaving her was best. “Diesel?”
Rebel calling his name from the other end of the hallway startled him and he jerked around.
An angel in a sky blue nightgown with matching robe, she started toward him, her hair floating around her.
He’d hoped to escape without running into her.
Once he’d left her in the guest room, he’d tossed and turned most of the night.
“Hey, Reb.” Shoving the key back into his pocket, he picked up his bag and moved away from his door, afraid she’d corner him. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
“Where are you going?”
“A run.” Simple was best. “It’ll only be for a few days.”
She nodded. “When you get back, will you take me for a spin?”
He adjusted his bag, not wanting to burst the hope in her eyes but knowing he had to make her understand his future only included her as a little sister. More importantly, he wanted her to accept Jana. “When I return, I’ll be busy moving Jana in.”
Accusation burned in her eyes, and she stiffened, opening her mouth to say something. Blast him, probably.
“Rebel, don’t,” he warned her. “Jana will be my wife.”
“You have a wife,” she spat.
“Not one I want!” Diesel drew in a deep breath. “Jana is important to me. She’s nothing like Tabitha. Give her a chance, Rebel. Please. For me.”
“I will never accept that bitch into my life,” she snarled. “I hate her.”
“You don’t even know her,” he snapped.
“Her name’s enough! Anyone called John is a fucking bitch, cunt, and motherfucker all rolled into one.”
“Her name’s Jana.”
“A feminine form of John, dickhead, which I was forced to learn when you hijacked the name of our baby for you and Tabitha.”
“Shut the fuck up now,” Diesel growled, frustrated because she was so goddamn frustrating. “You got it in your head that we would have a baby and name her Julia. I never agreed to that because it will never fucking happen. How many ways do I have to tell you that?”
“That isn’t true! I’d gotten you to change your mind. It’s only because of that man’s stupid fucking cameras.”
“That man is your father, and it isn’t only because of the cameras.
” He felt like pitching something. He wasn’t sure of Uncle Christopher and CJ’s location, but he was happy the Triplets were at school.
He set his bag down, settled his hands on her shoulders, and met her gaze.
“I want to do better, sweetheart. Be better. I haven’t seen you, my beautiful little sister, in weeks.
I saw a gorgeous body, and that was so fucking wrong of me. ”
He pretended his jealousy toward Kaia didn’t exist or how he sometimes wished they weren’t siblings, and he was younger or she was older.
Even then, he reminded himself she’d drive him fucking insane.
She expected the world to revolve around her.
If he told her to go left, she’d go right just to piss him off.
And Rebel would expect the accountability no fuck buddy, girlfriend, fiancè, or wife had ever demanded from him.
“Don’t do this, Diesel. Don’t move her here.”
Sighing, he dropped his hands. “Isn’t Kaia here?”
“I’ve only seen him once.” She looked at him through her lashes and smirked. “Maybe, I’ll visit him in his room.”
Resentment lashed Diesel and he glowered at her. “And he will fucking die.”
“No, he won’t,” she said with certainty.
Diesel wouldn’t debate that. No matter who he married, he’d make it his life’s mission to run Kaia away.
He didn’t like that motherfucker. “You’re weeks away from fifteen and I’m days away from thirty.
Repeat that fucking statement. In your head.
Out loud. I don’t care. Anyway it goes, it’s disgusting and unlawful.
You deserve better than me—” And Kaia. “You’re an angel on earth.
I am…” He didn’t even know where to begin.
The simplest way to describe himself would be an addict.
Addicted to sex, drugs, alcohol, money, death, and self-pity. “I’m not for you, Reb.”
“During your lauded Middle Ages, girls married at thirteen and fourteen. Sometimes younger. The heroines of some of our favorite fairy tales are that age.”
“It’s the Crusades—”
“And when did they take place, dickhead? During the High Middle Ages, so don’t try to fucking play me.”
“Ah, the return of the foul mouth.”
She flipped him off, and he glared at her.
“Are we in the fucking Middle Ages, Rebel?” he yelled, losing his patience. “We’re very much in the modern era and in our time, grown fucking men don’t marry children.”
“I’m not a child!”