Page 83 of Diesel
I don’t try to stop the growl that rumbles in the back of my throat. I’m pissed that she thought that was an acceptable variable. “You didn’t know that. You didn’t even know him at that point. The only thing you knew is that he had a loaded gun aimed at me, and you decided in that moment that your life was worth less than mine.”
She shrugs, as if that’s irrelevant. “It worked. You’re still here.”
My entire body twitches. She doesn’t get it. I don’t care if I die, but if she does? There is no way forward for me. I’d bleed for her every fucking day, but watching her take one for me isn’t something I’d survive.
I pull back, just enough to look at her properly, enough for her to see what’s blazing in my eyes. “Don’t fucking do that. Don’t sit there and act like it was nothing. You don’t get to gamble your life like you’re rolling a dice and then brush it off because you landed on a six.” She opens her mouth to argue, but I don’t stop talking. “You don’t everdo that again, Kenna. I don’t give a shit what the situation is, whether you think it’s calculated, or fucking noble, you don’t stand between me and a bullet ever again.”
Her expression falters. “I didn’t do it to be noble, or because I thought I was being clever, Zane. I did it because I love you. Because I was looking at you standing in front of that gun, not moving, not flinching, just willing to die because you knew I was inside and you thought you could stand between me and the danger. Guess what? You don’t ever do that again either!” She shoves my chest, her voice thick and wobbly. “You don’t die for me! Do you think I would survive without you? You’re all I’ve ever known!” Tears slide down her cheeks, even as her eyes spit fire. “Don’t ask me to do something that you can’t do yourself. Don’t ask me to sit on the sideline while you bleed on the pitch.” She shoves me again, this time letting out a cry of frustration. “I fucking love you, you ass! This isn’t some tragic love story where you get to leave me behind doing the honourable thing.”
She glares at me like she’s contemplating smacking some sense into my head. Maybe I deserve that. “I don’t want to leave you anywhere.”
She takes a shaky breath. “Good. Because if you try, I’ll just follow you anyway. If you die, I die. If you walk, I walk.”
I clamp all the things I want to say behind my teeth, knowing this is an argument that will never end. There is no part of me that is ever going to stand by and watch her get hurt. But I let it go in this moment, because it serves no purpose.
“You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” I murmur.
“Yeah, and you still married me knowing that.”
My lips twitch into a grin. “Yeah, I did.”
Her smile fades. “Can you find out about Chloe?”
I nod. I need to get up anyway. I’m probably needed somewhere. Crank’s still out there, and the tanks are still reloading, ready to fight again today.
She snuggles back into the pillows, and I ease myself out of bed. I take a quick shower, and by the time I’m getting dressed, her eyes are closed again, as if the weight of yesterday is still pulling on her bones.
I press a kiss into her hair, and she makes a sleepy noise that hits me in the chest. She has no idea the lines I will cross for her. I hope she never has to find out.
I grabbed my kutte off the back of the door and slip out of the room. When I step into the main bar area, it’s already busy. That heavy shroud of unease presses in around me as I make my way over to Nic. He’s sitting with Mace, both of them with expressions as serious as a heart attack.
The sixth sense I have for trouble is screaming like a klaxon as I approach, and they both stop talking when I stop at the edge of the table.
“How’s your girl?” Nic asks.
I take a second to read him, but his question seems sincere. “Fucked wrecked,” I say. “She’s traumatised. She’s asking how Chloe is. Is there any news?”
A look passes between them, one that makes a cold lump settle in my stomach. Nic taps his fingers on the table top, like he’s trying to circle the words. He doesn’t meet my eyes, his gaze sliding past me to the wall behind me. The wall with the Sons insignia painted on it.
“She was dead before she got to the hospital.” It comesout clipped, flat, coated in a pain he’s trying to bury beneath his tone.
I blink. It’s the only response I let slide onto my face. Mace scrubs a hand over his jaw, like it’s the only way he can hold his anger back.
Chloe was troubled, but she was just a kid. She didn’t deserve to be Crank’s plaything and didn’t deserve to be discarded the way she was when he was done with her.
“I told her mum she was safe here, that I’d take care of her until I could get her home.” Nic swallows the anger down, but beneath it I hear the grief.
Sandy is going to be distraught. She loved that girl with her entire soul. It killed her to lose her to Crank. She tried everything to get her daughter home, but Chloe… She needed the club, needed to feel close to the father she never knew. I guess now we’ll never find out who her dad was.
I curl my fingers into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I’m tired of losing people. Tired of fighting with no end in sight.
“Just another reason that fucker has to die,” I say under my breath.
Nic lets that threat breathe between us before he says, “His time’s coming.”
I want to believe that. But in my experience, the bad guy doesn’t always get what they deserve. “What about King?”
The last time I saw him he looked like he had one foot in the grave. I brace, waiting for another hammer blow to land. Nic’s jaw unlocks just a fraction. It probably wouldn’t be noticeable, but I’m good at reading that kind of thing.
