Chapter 54 – Diesel
It took everything in Diesel not to kill Jana.
If he’d gotten the true story, he might’ve.
Instead of admitting she’d been after drugs, Jana claimed she’d been lonely, an excuse he didn’t buy.
It was too convenient and didn’t fucking add up.
In all the time he’d known Jana, she and Tabitha had never fucking hung out just to fucking hang out.
It was always for sex, drugs, or both. Yet, even knowing that Jana was a lying fucking cunt, he couldn’t bring himself to kill her.
Rebel believed her. Besides, getting Rebel help was more important than putting Jana out of her misery.
So, he’d play dumb and pretend he didn’t want to skin her alive.
But he longed to make her pay and shake the truth from her so he could kill her. No matter what bullshit she spewed, her actions nearly cost him Rebel and that was fucking unforgivable. Rebel drove him fucking insane, but he didn’t know what he’d do without her.
Knowing if he’d arrived minutes later that she would’ve been dead chilled Diesel. He’d made Easton strap Jana into the front passenger seat, then he had Easton call Uncle Christopher and inform him of the situation.
While Easton drove, Diesel cradled Rebel in the back seat, not caring that she asked for Kaia. He’d get emo boy there if she needed to see him. For now, Rebel was his, safe and tucked against him, her head against his chest.
Besides, Diesel needed to get that bitch’s story straight to save her miserable fucking life.
That bitch in question, Jana, cried the entire way, blubbering apologies.
On one hand, her guilt satisfied him, as it was well deserved.
On the other, it would’ve annoyed the fuck out of him if Rebel’s nearness hadn’t soothed him.
When they arrived, a team was waiting for Rebel and she was taken away for testing.
Diesel paced outside while Easton smoked a cigarette and Jana leaned against one of the railings near an empty ambulance bay.
Her battered face was finally registering and he shook his head to clear away his anger and disgust, reminding himself that Rebel was safe and that he knew Jana was an addict.
He’d allowed her problem to continue unchecked.
He’d allowed her to leave the club grounds with Rebel.
Wrestling his temper under control, Diesel walked to Jana and tipped her chin up. Someone had punched her in the face. She must’ve been in pain.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, blood still trickling from her busted lip.
Rebel wanted Jana to be looked after.
Diesel drew in a deep breath and forced himself to hug her. “Easton will get you in a room, sweetheart. I have to wait for Uncle Christopher.”
“Okay,” Jana said in a teary voice.
Releasing her, Diesel urged her to Easton and sent them into the ER with instructions to register her.
Five minutes later, the roar of motorcycles filled the air. For now, Diesel would protect Jana. Tabitha, though?
That cunt was dead.
Despite the peace agreement and the deal Kendall worked out for him, Diesel had no intention of ever returning to the penthouse he once shared with Tabitha. Not before, during, or after January.
Yet there he was, using his key to unlock the door with one goal in mind: killing Tabitha.
Her fucking death would only violate the agreement if he was caught, and that wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t a rookie; he knew how to make a death look like an accident.
“Diesel,” Tabitha purred, walking into the living room and wearing nothing but a towel. “Pleasure to see you, husband. I knew you’d get tired of the whiny cunt—”
Diesel tuned out her grating voice. He didn’t want to fucking strangle her and ruin his goddamn plan of overdosing her.
He could rely on luck to do the job. The bitch did drugs regularly and, sooner or later, her lifestyle would catch up to her. However, instead of waiting for one day, he’d aid fate and speed up her demise.
No matter Jana’s guilt, Tabitha needed to die, stat.
Trusting Narci with such a sensitive task wasn’t something Diesel was willing to do, so he tapped Torrin and told him to buy coke cut with levamisole and benzocaine as well as a gram of China White.
“Mix it for me.”
Torrin met Diesel at a nearby gas station within the hour. His friend dismounted and walked to Diesel’s Mercedes, where he slid into the passenger seat.
“Who you planning to fuck up with this shit, bro?”
Smiling, Diesel dug into his pocket and exchanged a wad a hundreds for the baggie.
“I’ll tell you one day, brother.”
Snickering, Torrin saluted Diesel and got out of the car.
Now, Diesel’s powdery weapon waited to be unleashed.
Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the baggie and shook it in front of his wife. “Do a line with me.”
She licked her artificial lips. Intelligence was never her strong suit. As much as he detested her, she should’ve been suspicious of his motives. “What’s the occasion?”
“Our reunion,” he drawled in a smoky tone that promised he’d fuck her brains out.
She smiled, pleasure gleaming in her eyes. “Uncle Bash got through to you, hmm?”
“Guilty. The peace offering depends on my cooperation, so—”
“So you’ve come to your senses now rather than later and realize where you belong?”
Instead of dignifying that with a response, he went to the coffee table. Opening up the baggie, he poured the contents onto the glass, took a credit card from his wallet and cut it into lines, laying a hundred-dollar bill down.
Nodding at the spread, he straightened. “I’m going to take a leak. Don’t wait for me to get started.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” she said in a singsong voice, strutting to the table. Letting the towel drop and revealing her nudity, she got to her knees. “Wash your dick good. I want to do a line off it.”
Ha. The joke was on that cunt. She’d never get the chance to look at his cock again.
“Whatever you want, Tabitha.”
Giggling, she leaned down. If she wasn’t so fucking vain, she wouldn’t have been so easy to manipulate. It was a true testament to her shallowness.
Whistling, he slipped into the guest bathroom.
In case the bitch decided to follow him, he locked the door.
Freed his cock and pissed, just as he said he would.
Washed his hands and dried them, still whistling and without a care in the world.
Then he leaned against the vanity and folded his arms, waiting.
Eventually, a dull thud traveled through the door. Smirking, he walked out of the bathroom and back into the living room.
In a heap on the floor, Tabitha’s body convulsed and satisfaction like he’d never known filled him. He considered filming the beautiful moment, but he refused to have that type of incriminating evidence.
Instead, he stepped over her body and headed to the door, whistling a jauntier tune, beyond pleased that his mission was accomplished.