Chapter Thirty – Diesel
Diesel was exhausted.
He’d gotten back to Hortensia early that morning, hoping Aunt Meggie had returned. When he found Uncle Christopher sitting at the table like a zombie, he knew the truth. She was still in LA.
The boys were gone, so Diesel figured someone had taken them to school.
Not that Uncle Christopher seemed aware.
He almost went to Ridge Moore and checked Axel out, so they could go to a rage room or the art gallery with an oddity museum and shop.
Or, maybe, he could bring Axel to the office with him.
He yawned, weary and bone tired. Axel would take one look at him and demand answers. The last thing he wanted was to talk about Skylar Rivers. He wanted to forget his meeting with that motherfucker, hating himself and his father. Wishing he’d left well enough alone.
So he pushed back from the table and stood. Uncle Christopher said nothing, but Diesel felt the heat of his gaze as he escaped and went to the sanctity of his room, craving coke, alcohol, and sex.
Reaching his door, he halted and looked down the hallway.
The house felt empty and lonely. Although Rebel would’ve been at school at this hour, she would’ve brightened his morning with steady chatter as they ate breakfast. Their other family members, since she was so upset with him.
He would’ve still heard her and knew she’d return in a few hours.
He fished his key out of his pocket and unlocked his bedroom door, then flipped on the light.
Overwhelming silence met him. Beautiful furniture, expensive décor, lemon scented.
His personal space with a private bathroom and a huge closet.
The place he’d spent countless hours hating a woman who probably didn’t even remember him.
He bowed his head. The idea to find her, or what had happened to her, crossed his mind. Heaving in a breath, he straightened and scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t know where to start searching. He’d killed that fuckhead without getting more information.
“Stupid motherfucker,” he snarled, the anger directed at himself.
If she was dead, he could’ve given her a proper burial, memorialized her.
If she was still alive, he’d do the same for her that he intended to do for Jana.
Use his connections and money to help her.
He might never get the chance to do either now.
He stumbled to the bathroom, turned on the light, and walked to his wall-to-wall mirror above his stone and wood floating sink and cabinet.
His eyes were haunted and red-rimmed from lack of sleep and turmoil until the reflection turned into his fifteen-year-old self.
It was him before his mother left. He wasn’t particularly happy.
They struggled a lot. She struggled. Somehow, Skylar always convinced Diesel that things were fine. Whatever was wrong was her fault.
He said it to Diesel when it was just the two of them. He’d said it just as often in front of Theresa. Diesel grew up hearing it. How could he have believed anything else? The truth had been all around him, though. Shouldn’t he have seen it?
He blinked, and that fifteen-year-old kid in the mirror disappeared, leaving him a broken shell.
Knowing he’d never be able to sleep, Diesel took a quick shower, chose a dark suit to match his dark mood.
He didn’t bother shaving, grabbed his keys and his wallet and headed out.
Instead of taking the main staircase, he went to the back one.
It was an excuse to pass by Rebel’s room.
As he neared, he slowed his stride. If Axel were home, he’d ask him to call her.
No, he’d pay him to call her. Or tell him his legal services were free for a month or two.
For the first time in hours, Diesel smiled as he thought about Axel. Continuing on, Diesel reached the first floor. When he reached the breezeway, he saw Kaia on the other side with a mop and bucket.
Diesel didn’t bother greeting him or tormenting him. As much as he hated him, he was the better choice for Rebel once she turned eighteen.
As he passed the den, he paused. Hozier’s The Work Song floated to him, the volume just loud enough for anyone in the immediate vicinity.
He stuck his head in and Uncle Christopher lifted his from where he was resting on the sofa. He looked but didn’t speak. Raised a brow but didn’t question Diesel. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to know, so Diesel nodded and left, the sadness pressing in on him.
Not wanting to run into Kaia again, he took the long route to the side door in the West Hallway that led to the treehouse, where he’d installed Jana to keep her out of everyone’s sight.
The moment he walked in the scent of bacon hit his nostrils and Jana singing to The Fight Song by Rachel Platten off-key filled the air.
Unbuttoning his suit coat, Diesel walked to the kitchen. She stood at the stove in a T-shirt and panties.
“Good morning,” he said.
Releasing a frightened cry, she turned, took one look at him, and turned off the burners.
“Diesel?” she said, rushing to him. “Are you okay?”
“I—”
He’d killed. Now, he wanted to cry. Not for Skylar. Never for that motherfucker.
“Whatever it is, it’s okay,” Jana said, and hugged him tightly, offering him comfort when she didn’t know the source of his turmoil.
It didn’t matter.
He hugged her back, even if hers wasn’t the arms he wanted. The thought disgusted him and almost sent him to his dealer. Who’d care if he overdosed? Uncle Christopher said not to use drugs. He never said not to OD. He couldn’t hand out a punishment if Diesel beat him to the draw.
His death would be a favor to Rebel and Jana. It could be the sacrifice his mother deserved after he’d hated her for so many years.
Jana tugged his head down and thumbed away tears he didn’t realize were falling. He wanted to tell Jana what had happened, but he couldn’t get the words together in his head.
For some reason, Tabitha rose in his head. Her tears when he’d seen her at the condo and Bash’s demand that Diesel give her six months. He was such an arrogant, hateful fuckhead, he’d risked Jana just to have his fucking way. He’d hurt Tabitha…
Hurt people hurt people.
Even Torie, as fucked up as she’d been, was his victim. Women had been his enemy because of his mother. He saw her in every one of them.
Jana pressed her lips to his. He didn’t respond.
“Fuck me,” she said, still not asking him questions. “Use me. I don’t mind.”
He caressed her cheek. “You should, sweetheart. You deserve better. You deserve the world at your feet. To be showered in diamonds and silk.”
Licking his tears away, Jana smiled and dropped to her knees, her fingers going to his zipper.
Before she pulled out his cock, he covered his fly with his hand. “Jana, I would only be using you. There would be no emotion. No anything.”
“Sometimes we need a mindless fuck.” She gazed at him through the sweep of her lashes. “I want to swallow your cum.”
He shouldn’t give in. He wasn’t even fully erect. And…he didn’t want Jana. But she was still fragile, still trusting him to make everything right for her. Slowly, he dropped his hands and allowed her to free his member.
She licked the head, tongued his slit, sucking him until he hardened and swelled in her warm mouth. He didn’t want to close his eyes, afraid of who he’d see.
Afraid he was just like his father.
He started to sob and jerked his cock out of Jana’s mouth. She sat back on her haunch, staring at him in wide-eyed shock as he put himself to rights.
“Do…do y-you want to talk about it?” she asked, when he controlled himself a moment later.
“No.”
She swallowed. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. It’s all me.”
“Then talk to me.”
“I need a hit,” he blurted, the truth and the first thing that came to his mind.
“I do, too,” she admitted. “Sometimes, fucking diverts my attention.” Guilt flashed across her face. “Forget I said that. I’m not trying to make you jealous.”
“I’m not.” Allowing herself to be used in exchange for drugs angered him as did fuckheads forcing her to their bidding. He’d never gotten jealous. “I need to get to the office.”
“Even if I want a fuck?”
He tipped his head back, then met her hopeful gaze. “Take your panties off and bend over the sofa.”
Smiling, she scrambled to her feet and shimmied out of the white cotton. At least they weren’t granny panties.
Ass in the air, she rotated her hips. Diesel walked to her, spit in his hand and rubbed her pussy, but she was already wet.
He took out his cock and buried himself inside her, grunting at how deep this angle allowed him to go.
Wanting to get her off as fast as possible, he inserted his hand between them and found her clit, gently stroking even if his thrusts were not.
Her cries rose in his head, the slickness from her pussy sliding down her thighs.
“I’m coming,” she gasped. “Pinch my clit.”
He followed her orders and she screamed, soaking his hand, his cock, and her thighs. He pulled out of her and went to the bathroom to wash up, his cock hard, heavy, and unsatisfied. He hadn’t come.
Later that day, Diesel sat in his office. He’d barely concentrated on his paperwork today, hadn’t made one call, or attended a single meeting.
He was just about to call it a day and go to the club when his door opened and Tabitha sashayed in, carrying a stack of files.
She slammed his door shut. “Brooks just told me you’ve been here all day,” she said, walking to his desk and setting the files next to him.
“I have been.” He didn’t bother to look at what she’d brought. “Deep in thought. I haven’t even eaten today.”
She studied him. “Is something wrong?”
A fuckton. Diesel shrugged.
“When are you coming back to the condo?”
“Soon.” He didn’t know if that was true or not. He didn’t know anything. “I don’t have an exact date.”
“How about this weekend?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re acting weird. Human.”
“I can say the same about you,” he told her, bored.
“You’re such a fucking dickhead.”