Chapter 5 — Diesel #3
"Your father would've sent someone eventually regardless. Marrow's been pushing at Bloomfield for months. This was coming. Ray being the target is my fault for making the photos spread the way I did, but you being here didn't cause this. Crane being who he is caused this."
She's quiet for a moment and I can see her trying to believe that, trying to let herself off the hook she's put herself on.
"We're moving tonight," I say. "Hitting the warehouse where Dutch is. He's not walking away from it."
"Good."
The word is flat and certain and immediate, no hesitation, and I realize she means it. She's not asking me not to. She's not trying to talk me down. She's accepting that this is necessary and she's okay with it.
More than okay. She wants it.
"You're comfortable with us killing him?" I ask.
"Yes. He put Ray in the hospital to send a message to me from my father. So yes, I'm comfortable with you killing him. If I could do it myself, I would."
The certainty in her voice tells me what I already suspected but am now completely sure of.
She's not naive about what Vigil is. She's not performing moral objection to violence she actually understands is necessary.
She grew up in Marrow. She knows how this world works.
She knows what happens when you cross certain lines.
And she's accepting it because she's part of this now, whether she intended to be or not.
"You should stay inside tonight," I say. "Keep your head down. We don't know if Marrow's watching the clubhouse and I don't want you visible if they are."
"I'll stay inside."
"If something happens, if somehow they breach the perimeter while we're gone, you go to Cain's room.
Third door on the left upstairs. He's got weapons stashed and a secondary exit through the window that drops to the garage roof.
You get out that way and you run. Don't wait, don't try to fight, just run. "
She's studying my face now and I can see her processing what I'm telling her, what it means that I'm making sure she knows the escape route.
"You're worried about me," she says.
"Yeah."
"Why? Yesterday you were still calling me a liability."
"Yesterday Ray wasn't in the hospital. Today he is, and that changes things."
"How?"
I step closer and she doesn't step back, just tilts her head up to keep eye contact, and I can see her breathing change, can see the awareness in her dark eyes that matches what I'm feeling.
"Because you being here made you visible and that got Ray hurt," I say. "And if something happens to you because I made you visible, that's on me too. So yeah, I'm worried about you. I'm making sure you know where to go if things go wrong. Because keeping you safe is part of the deal."
"That's the only reason?"
"No."
"What's the other reason?"
I'm close enough now to see the flecks of lighter brown in her dark eyes, close enough to smell whatever she's wearing under the heat and dust, close enough that if I moved six inches I could kiss her the way I kissed her last night.
And I'm aware of her body in ways that are getting harder to ignore.
The soft curves visible even in dark jeans and a plain shirt, the way the fabric pulls across her full breasts, the width of her hips, the substantial reality of her that's been distracting me since she first walked through our gate.
She's not small. She's real and present and I notice every time she moves, every time she's near me, and right now she's close enough that I could reach out and touch her.
"The other reason is I kissed you last night," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended. "And I meant it. And that means you're not just Victor Crane's daughter anymore. You're someone I want safe for reasons that have nothing to do with the arrangement."
Her breathing changes, gets shallower, and I watch her lips part slightly.
"You're saying you trust me now?" she asks.
"I'm saying the suspicion is gone. I'm saying I don't think you're lying. I'm saying when I look at you I'm not doing tactical assessment anymore."
"What are you doing?"
"Wanting you. Worrying about you. Feeling protective in ways that make me reckless if I'm not careful."
She reaches up and her hand settles on my chest, palm flat over my heart, and I can feel the touch burn through my shirt even in the August heat.
"When you come back, I'll be here,” she says quietly. "Tonight, tomorrow, whenever my father comes, I'm staying exactly where I am. You don't have to worry about that."
"I know."
"How do you know?"
"Because you would've run already if you were going to. Because you told me in your room last night that you want him to fail when he comes for you. Because you just said good when I told you we're killing Dutch and you meant it. You're not running. You're here. And that matters."
Her hand is still on my chest and I cover it with mine, holding it there, feeling her pulse under my palm where her wrist rests.
We're standing in the yard in full view of anyone who looks out a window and I don't care.
Last night I kissed her like I meant it.
This morning Ray's in the hospital with his face destroyed and tonight I'm going to retaliate and everything feels urgent, compressed, like time is running out and I need her to know this is real before something happens that makes it too late.
"When I get back tonight," I say, "we're going to talk about what this is. About what happens next. About the fact that kissing you wasn't strategy and I can't keep pretending it was."
"I'll be here."
I lift her hand from my chest and press my mouth against her knuckles briefly, rough kiss that's more promise than affection, and I see her eyes go wide.
Then I let go and step back because if I don't step back now I'm going to pull her against me and kiss her properly and my brothers are inside planning violence and I need to not be doing this in the yard where everyone can see how compromised I've become.
"Stay inside," I say. "Stay safe."
"You too."
I head back toward the clubhouse and I can feel her watching me, can feel the weight of her eyes on my back, and when I reach the door I look back and she's still standing there with her hand pressed to her chest where mine just was.
Inside, brothers are gearing up even though we've got hours before we move, the activity a way to channel the tension. I head upstairs to my room and close the door and sit on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands.
Ray's in the hospital with permanent damage.
Tonight I'm going after the man who put him there.
And I just told Sienna I want her safe for reasons that have nothing to do with the arrangement, which is the most honest thing I've said to anyone in years and also the most dangerous because wanting her means I'm compromised, means I'm making decisions based on something other than tactical reality.
But I can't stop wanting her.
Can't stop noticing the curve of her hips when she walks, the way her body feels pressed against mine, the intelligence in her eyes when she looks at me like she's trying to solve a puzzle.
Can't stop thinking about that kiss last night and the way she responded, the way she kissed me back like she'd been waiting for it, like she wanted it as much as I did.
Something fundamental has shifted between yesterday and today.
Yesterday I was still watching her for signs she was lying.
Today the suspicion is gone and what's left is want and worry and the beginning of something I don't have words for yet.
Something that might be trust or might be the thing that comes after trust when you've decided someone's worth the risk of everything.
I don't know what to call it.
But I know it's real.
And I know tonight when I come back from the warehouse, when Dutch is handled and the message is sent, I'm going to stop pretending this is anything other than what it is.
I want her.
Not strategically. Not as part of an arrangement.
Just want her because she's her and I've decided she's worth wanting even if it costs me the control I've built my entire life around maintaining.
That decision is made.
Now I just have to survive tonight to do something about it.