Page 23 of Diablo

Diablo’s gaze flicked up to meet mine. Irritation flashed in his eyes before he tamped it down again.

“It’s a matter of self-preservation, princess.”

I snorted. “You mean you’re saving your own ass so you don’t have to face me.”

He shrugged. “Call it that if you want. I don’t care.”

I moved in front of Diablo’s bike, wrapping my fingers around his handlebars. With the tail of his bike backed up against the clubhouse, he would be forced to run me over if he intended to dodge this conversation.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” I asked. “You were so tight-lipped about LeBlanc—”

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, princess,” he said quickly before I could finish my sentence. “You aren’t going to corner me, either. Just because we fucked doesn’t mean we need to talk about our feelings and shit like that.”

He yanked on his helmet, fixing me with a look that dared me to back down. What happened to the smug bastard who had flirted with me in the bar? Had Diablo used me up like Tarzan warned me about? Was I being tossed aside?

“You’re a fucking prick, Diablo,” I said, my voice raspy and raw.

Something softened in his gaze and he looked away.

“Yeah, well, I guess that means you have shitty taste in men, sweetheart. If you thought some nasty sex in a filthy bar restroom was a confession of love, you’re more desperate than I realized.”

A heartbeat of silence settled between us.

Then I punched him.

Hard.

Diablo went reeling off his bike and hit the pavement flat on his back. His helmet knocked against the ground with an echoing crack. White-hot pain shot through my knuckles and up my arm, radiating all the way through my shoulder.

Within a split second, Diablo was back on his feet, crowding into my space. Radiating that much rage, he could break me. I stared up at him, standing my ground.

“Go to hell, Prospect. And don’t even think about crawling back to me when you want to get your dick wet with an easy lay or I’ll hit you twice as hard. And I’ll shove my boot up your ass for good measure.”

Chapter Seven

Diablo

With everything going on lately, I completely forgot about the upcoming vote to patch me in on Saturday. As I pulled into the clubhouse parking lot, I was too distracted to notice Red, Rooster, and Mack lingering in the shade of the building nearby, waiting for me.

My thoughts were on Stevie.

The look of fury in her eyes had haunted me all night. And my jaw still ached from her wicked right hook. I deserved that punch to the face, especially after the things I’d said.

If you thought some nasty sex in a filthy bar restroom was a confession of love, you’re more desperate than I realized.

My sharp tongue got me into a lot of trouble over the years, but I deeply regretted every word of that line, knowing how much it must have hurt Stevie. I didn’t want to piss her off. But I had to. It was better that she loathed me rather than get caught in the mess I made because of LeBlanc.

As long as he was in the picture, Stevie needed to stay away from me. She was too smart and too stubborn to let it go. LeBlanc was my mistake that I had to fix, not hers. Besides, she was already wrapped up in this more than I would have liked.

After I parked my bike and removed my helmet, a sharp whistle drew my attention. I looked up to see Rooster and Mack smirking at me. Red just crossed his arms with a pitying glance. He was the only one who didn’t take every opportunity to pester and tease me.

“It’s votin’ time,” Rooster drawled. “Mack tells me you’ve been nervous all week.”

“Mack doesn’t know shit,” I countered. I was grateful for the distraction, taking my mind off Stevie for a brief respite.

Mack leaned closer to Rooster with a loud stage whisper.

“Told you. Nervous as a virgin bride on her wedding night.”

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