Page 94 of Diesel
She doesn’t ask what I mean. She knows.
“So do that and then come back to me.”
I open my eyes, mapping every inch of her face even though I can do it in my sleep already.
“I was ready to kill anyone who stood between you and me.”
Her lips twitch. “And who says romance is dead?”
“I don’t give a shit about romance. I give a shit about you.” I push her hair off her face. “About keeping you breathing, about putting an end to this shit so I can stop waking in the middle of the night wondering if someone’s gonna put a bullet in you to get to me.” I can’t stop the full body shiver that goes through me as those words leave my mouth. “One last time, Kenna. One last move and then I’m coming back to you.”
I kiss her like I’m stitching a piece of my soul into her, then I force myself to step back.
“Take care of business,” she says. “Go and be Diesel for them and then come back to me as Zane.”
When I walk back through the bar, only the girls and Toby are here. I don’t need to ask where the others went. I already know. I make my way to the shed.
Two of the London boys are waiting outside, arms folded over their chest like they could break the world with just their glares.
They part to let me through, and I step inside. Thesmell hits me first. Musty, damp. Blood. Piss. The walls are heavily soundproofed, because I didn’t hear the screams from outside, but now they reverberate through the space.
Nic is standing in front of Crank and Blade. I’ve only been gone a few minutes, but already both men are strung up by their hands, dangling like sacks of meat. Riot is in the process of cutting both of their shirts off. Their kuttes are already piled on the floor in front of them. Someone definitely took a leak on them.
Ravage is leaning against the wall, thick arms folded over his chest, his boot pressed against the wall like he’s watching a show and not the execution of two of our own.
He steps forward, coming to stop in front of Nic, and then he hands him a patch. The presidents patch. Nic takes it like it’s something sacred, tracing the stitching on the word lightly. “Ain’t sure I’m worthy of this,” he murmurs, “but I’m going to try and be.”
“Then you’re already worthy,” Ravage says.
Nic holds it in his fist, like he’s soaking the title into his skin, his cells. I tap my tongue against my teeth, not because my brain is glitching, but because this is finally over and I don’t know what to do with my body.
“Is this how low the club has stooped?” Crank rasps. His voice is shredded. There’s already the start of bruising around his throat and his face is swollen. Nic turns to glare at him as Ravage steps back to his place at the wall. “That you’d kill two patched brothers just so you can take my seat?”
Nic stares at him. I’m sure he has so many things he wants to say, but he delivers the ultimate blow. He doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, he turns calmly to me and says, “Diesel, bring me the blowtorch.”
I don’t flinch. Even though I know what that blowtorch is going to be used for. Violence is stitched into every part of my body. It’s who I am, who I’ve had to be over the years.
I walk over to the table pushed against one wall. There are multiple tools laid out, household items that the average DIY dad would keep in their shed or garage. I skim my fingers over the knives, the saws, the pliers before I grab the blowtorch.
Crank is whimpering, like he thinks that’s going to save him. It won’t. His fate was sealed the moment he killed brothers. Blade shivers, like the whole club walked over his grave.
I light the blowtorch, the flame casting a warm glow over my face. There was a time when I would’ve enjoyed this, would’ve lived for this. But now? All I want to do is get back to her.
Nic takes it from me, then glances over his shoulder at Ravage. “You want to do the honours?”
He shakes his head. “This is all yours, prez.”
That word lands heavy. With Nic leading us, maybe, just maybe, we can drag our chapter back in line with the rest of the club. Maybe I can finally give my wife a safe place to land.
Nic slowly rounds them, his boots loud in the silence. Blade finally breaks, whimpering, pleas spilling from his lips. No one listens. He knows he’s next, knows the pain he’s going to endure.
He’ll smell Crank’s burning flesh before his own. And watch Crank choke on his own blood before he suffers the same fate.
Mercy isn’t a gift that is given to those who betray thepatch. It shouldn’t be. Those vows we take when we earn our colours aren’t just pretty words. They mean something. It’s why I didn’t leave when I had the chance. It’s why I didn’t go nomad like Hawk.
Blade thrashes against his chains, the last desperate act of a man staring down his own end. “Fuck you!” He sneers. “Fuck all of you!”
Nic slides his gaze from Blade back to Crank. Then he lifts the blowtorch to Crank’s back, where his club tattoo sits between his shoulders and he leans in. Then, in the darkest, most vicious tone I’ve ever heard from him, Nic says, “Scream loud for me.”
