Page 17 of Falling for the Biker
The third man joins the circle, moving with a quiet lethality that I barely hear his steps. He moves to the opposite side, flanking us. Before I can process his intention, he’s beside Diesel.
In one brutal, efficient motion, the man with the scar—Hammer,Diesel curses—grips the hilt of the knife still buried in his arm and yanks it free with a sickening, wet sound.
A gasp catches in my throat, sharp and pained like I’m the one getting the weapon removed. Diesel barely flinches, just a hard grit of his teeth, but his whole body goes rigid.
Hammer doesn’t even look at the bloodied blade. He offers it, handle-first, to Judge. Then he immediately turns his attention to staunching the flow from Diesel’s wound, his touch clinical and unforgiving.
Judge takes the knife, turning it over in his hand. The steel glints, a stark reminder of the line that was crossed.
“You had one job,” Judge says, his voice dangerously low. It’s not a shout; it’s the calm before an execution. He flicks his eyes toward Ripper, who has the sense to look chastened. “First him, and now you. Can’t any of you lot just do as I ask? Do you enjoy torching the reputation I’m trying to rebuild?”
Diesel growls as Hammer applies pressure, but it’s a sound of frustration, not pain. “He was going to hurt her.” The words leave him, surprisingly soft but clear, cutting through the tension. “It was already messy before I could get to her. I couldn’t let him go.”
Judge is the one to growl this time, a low, furious rumble. His eyes narrow to slits. “You could have. Not every problem needs to be solved with a goddamn grave—”
“Icouldn’t.”
Diesel repeats the words, but this time they are not an explanation. They are heavy enough to carry a weight. I feel his gaze on me for a heartbeat before his eyes lock back with Judge’s, a direct challenge.
“He’d come back for her,” he grinds out, his voice dropping, letting the unspoken truth hang in the air that he doesn’t regret going out of line. “I couldn’t let him try again.”
The declaration changes everything. This wasn’t just a breach of the process. It was a choice.
He made his own call for me.
“Don’t tell me… " Judge squints, his fierce green eyes flicking from Diesel’s defiant stance to me.
When he leans forward, Diesel gives a small, possessive tug, shifting me more squarely behind him as if to shield me from the verdict.
Judge curses under his breath, a sound of pure exasperation. Shoving his fingers through his hair, he moves back and forth like he needs a lungful of air that isn’t as heavy before turning his gaze back to us. “She’s the one, then?”
“Yes.” Diesel’s answer is instant, absolute. It echoes in the space between them, answering a question I’m still scrambling to decipher.
The one?The one to risk everything for? The one worth breaking all the rules?
Judge snaps the pocket knife shut with a sharpclickand pinches the bridge of his nose, a man battling a monumental headache. Ripper barks out a laugh, the sound grating in the tense air.
“You gave me an earful for cutting a man’s tongue out and letting him bleed out,” he says, a twisted grin spreading across his face. He tilts his head, looking between Judge and Diesel. “You can’t come down harder on him than you did on me, Prez. It’s obvious. The man’s in love. A woman can make you a little reckless.”
The words hang in the rain-soaked air, sucking out all the sound.
In love? With me?
The thought hits me not like a gentle realization, but a heavy strike on my poor heart. A wave of heat floods my cheeks, burning against the cool rain. And Diesel… Diesel doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t even flinch. His silence is a louder confirmation than any words could ever be.
“You—” Judge starts, looking like he’s ready to shake Ripper senseless. He cuts himself off, turning his glare toward Hammer. “He’ll be fine?” he grinds out, jerking his chin toward Diesel’s arm.
Hammer gives a single, curt nod, giving the bandaged wound a firm, almost punishing pat that makes Diesel grunt. “He’s survived worse.”
He has?
The question echoes in my mind, a stark reminder of how much of his life is still a mystery to me. There are so many blanks to fill in, so many stories hidden behind his scars and his silence. But as I stand there in the rain, with his blood soaking his sleeve and his love declared in front of his brothers, one thing is crystal clear. I want to be there when he’s ready to fill in the blanks.
In some miracle, Judge makes the call that he’ll deal with Diesel when he isn’t soaked to the bone. Already frustrated and seemingly tired, he lets us go with the demand to see Diesel tomorrow. Preferably alone. It might be better that way, honestly.
I don’t think I can stomach even the thought of Diesel facing any punishment because of what he’s done.
Left alone with the roar of motorcycles leaving us, my hand tingles as he reaches down to grab it.
