Chapter 19 #2
Pops comes out of nowhere in a hazmat suit carrying a bucket of something. Not sure what it is but I know it isn’t water the moment it touches Diesel’s skin and he comes awake screaming blue murder.
“That’s an extreme reaction,” Mira says, frowning.
“That’s because it’s lemon juice,” Pops crows, throwing more on Diesel’s burnt legs.
“Oh that makes sense.” Mira perkily agrees, pulling a notepad and pencil from her bra.
“You people are all nuts,” Grind mutters and we all ignore him.
I mean, like always attracts like. I’m just thankful I found my people.
“Do you know who I am?” Marx demands, getting into Diesel’s face.
“Yeah, I know who you are.” Diesel spits blood onto the floor, slumping down in the chair he’s been tied to. This is where he’ll be cooperative before he tries to sell his skills.
“Good. So you know that you fucked with the wrong MC when you rode into Roxburgh and decided to spread your dirty shit there and into my town.” Diesel stares at Marx, but doesn’t say a word.
Marx stares him down until Diesel lowers his gaze.
Pussy. “Your operation is gone. Your men, gone. You’ll be gone soon enough. First, I need answers.”
Diesel looks around the room, then smiles up at Marx. Here it comes. “Look man, I don’t know what to tell ya. But I mean, if I do know anything, I’m willing to tell you but it’ll be for a price.”
Marx raises that damn brow that seems to run through their family. “How much?”
“Oh, not much. I mean, what’s the price of freedom?” Diesel says with a smarmy grin, causing my eyes to roll.
“Willa, how much do you think freedom costs?” Miles asks, eyes on Diesel.
“It’s pretty damn priceless from where I’m standing.”
Diesel’s gaze darts from me, to Miles, and I know when he clocks it. I may not be wearing his patch, but Diesel is nothing if not perceptive.
“I’ll give you a divorce.” His eyes dart back to Marx. “I answer your questions and give Willa a divorce, you let me live.”
Marx smiles a shark-like grin, “How often do you work for Thompson?”
Diesel hesitates a moment. Weird. “Not as often as you think.”
Miles narrows his eyes, a small wrinkle forming between his brows that I smooth out with my finger. He smiles softly, pressing a kiss to said finger. Diesel starts huffing so I guess he just saw our cutesy display.
“Whenever Mercer calls us. If they want questionable shit transported or distributed they get in touch.”
“Thompson?”
Diesel growls, wriggling a little in his chair. I don’t blame him because his leg wounds look foul. “It depends. On who wants what. Who’s the buyer, who’s the distributor.”
“I thought you were the distributors?” Tav frowns.
“No, no, fuck. You lot just don’t get it do you? Everything is dependent on what it is and buyers and sellers. Sometimes we transport shit, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we sell shit, sometimes we don’t.” Diesel huffs, his breathing becoming more labored the more he gets worked up.
“Who moves it when it’s not Quarter Mile?”
“I don’t know! Whoever else puts a bid in.”
“Who puts the bids in?” Marx barks.
“I don’t fucking know! Sometimes it’s Mercer for transport, sometimes it's Thompson to move shit, sometimes it's somebody else.”
“Oohhh he’s good,” Chewy mutters.
“Huh?”
“It’s a marketplace.” I stare at her, waiting for an explanation.
She looks around, seeing blank faces and rolls her eyes, blowing out a breath.
“On the dark web there’s all sorts of marketplaces selling bad shit.
People. Guns. Whatever you want. You need something transported, someone tracked, somebody killed, whatever, you put the job out and someone bids on it. ”
“But with Thompson we’ve been chasing him, getting rid of people in his organisation,” Tav points out.
“Yeah, and notice how he pivots every time? We hurt his operation but we never cripple it because of the marketplace he’s using.
The Keep got rid of his business partner and that still didn’t stop him.
” Chewy’s fingers tap as she stares at baby Miles for a moment.
“Thompson has his own men, like the dirty cops at the Sheriff’s Department, but haven’t you wondered how he has so many people on his books?
Mercenaries that turned up at Joy’s,” She says looking at Joy and Switch.
, “The cannon fodder at Switch’s parents. ” She waves her hands in the air.
“It’s Craigslist for baddies,” Vi says.
“Bingo! And I bet he isn’t the only bad guy on there.”
“How do you get the jobs?” Marx barks out. “Do you bid on them?”
“Fuck no. We get them from Mercer.” Diesel’s breathing is labored, my eyes glued to the way his chest is rising and falling.
“Everytime?”
Diesel hesitates a moment. “Sometimes.”
“Oohhhhh, he’s got a secret,” Pops sings in the background.
Diesel snaps his head to the left, pulling at a large patch of burnt skin. His whole body stiffens before shaking uncontrollably.
“Who else do you get jobs through? Thompson?”
Diesel clamps his jaw shut, breathing getting heavier. Chewy steps up to Diesel, cradling a weird canister in her hand.
“Tell me who’s in the marketplace placing jobs and I’ll help you with the pain.”
Rhodie is busy unstrapping Miles from her chest. Probably a good idea. Whatever Chewy has in her hand it’s probably not suitable for babies.
“Fuck, fine, Mercer mostly,” he huff outs, his body shaking with the effort. “Thompson sometimes. And a guy named Callum Rourke.”
“Motherfucker.”