Page 39 of Diesel
She lifts a sceptical brow. “I thought we weren’t going to lie to each other anymore.”
I kiss her knee, bending low as I do. “I’m not lying, firefly. If they wanted me dead Riot would have done it back at the cottage.”
I don’t mean to say that so bluntly, but it just comes out that way. “That’s not reassuring, babe.”
“I know, but I don’t have anything else I can tell you without lying. And you don’t want me to do that.”
She huffs a breath, working through everything in her mind. “Right. Okay. You’ll be careful.”
“Nothing is going to stop me from coming back to you. You don’t leave for any reason. You don’t open the door. If anything happens you get out and you run. I’ll find you.”
Her brows come together, as if she’s wondering how our life has changed from talking about groceries and household bills to running away from death.
She wraps her arms around her stomach again, her face pale. “I don’t care what it takes… you live, okay?”
I hear the unspoken kill who you have to. Don’t die being noble.
I kiss her, letting my mouth say the things my brain can’t articulate right now. There’s no force on this earth that will make me leave her alone while I’m rotting in the ground. Not now.
When I pull back, her eyes are closed, her face screwed up like she’s in pain. “I mean it, Zane. I don’t care what oath you took, what loyalty you’re supposed to have, you’re mine. Not theirs. So, you come home to me no matter what.”
“I will,” I promise.
I lean back slightly and pull my gun from my holster. It’s heavy in my hand, the metal reassuring. I don’t like guns, but I carry because I have to. Because in a fight a gun is always going to beat a knife.
She stares at it wild eyed before raising her lashes to me. I take her hand and place it on her palm.
“In case you need to protect yourself,” I say.
My voice is calm, even if my body is screaming. I don’t want her to use it, but I won’t leave her defenceless either.
I walk her through how to load it, how to fire it, and very basic gun safety—all shit I should have done years ago.
She blinks rapidly, as if her brain is drowning in the information. I wish I didn’t have to put this on her, but she wanted to stand in this war, and this is what war looks like.
When I’m finished, she places the weapon on the couch next to her, like it’s a live grenade.
“I love you,” I say softly when her attention wanders back to me.
She melts a little, the fear thawing for a split second. “I love you too.”
“I have to go.” I don’t move.
“I know. I’ll be waiting here when you get back. No running this time.”
I snort. “I’d find you anywhere.”
Then before I can change my mind, I push to my feet and without looking back, I leave.
Every part of me is screaming to go back, to stay with her, but I force my feet to keep moving. This is for us. This is for the club.
For a future that has to be better.
My bike is parked in the garage we rent, exactly where I left it before I went hunting my wife. I take a beat before I climb on it, just breathing for a second and then I’m in motion again. It’s muscle memory at this point, but when I start up the engine it doesn’t soothe me the way it usually would. The kutte on my back, the bike beneath my body—It all feels like a weight on my shoulders.
As I ride to meet Nic, my head is swimming with every scenario imaginable. What am I walking into? Was Riot testing the waters and I’m about to meet my end.
No… I refuse to believe Riot wouldn’t have killed me right there if they thought I was a threat.
