Drifter (MC Sinners Next Generation #2)

by Bella Jewel

  “Hey, are you okay? What happened to your face, did you fall over?”

  I shrug. My face is still a little red and grazed from being pressed against the wall. It isn’t bad, but it’s enough to be tender. “I went out with my friends and got a little drunk . . .”

  Her brows shoot together. “That’s a drunken accident?”

  I smile weakly, and she notices.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah,” I manage. “Listen, I’ve got to hand in an assessment in. I’ll see you in class.”

  “Right, okay.”

  I turn and rush off. My palms are sweating by the time I reach my locker. I can’t face this today; I’m going to head home sick. I need a few days to process what has happened. Everything was so full-on after it happened. My dad wanted me to have an escort home, but I insisted I was fine. He should be more worried about Ava, Skye and Danny, because they’re close. He finally let up but made me promise to check in constantly and let him know if anything was amiss.

  “Mercedes.”

  The sound of Diesel’s voice behind me has my whole body stiffening. He’s been trying to call me since that night, but I’ve been unable to face him. I don’t know what I’ll say—hell, I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now. I never thought I’d get put in that position, and yet I was. It scared me, more than I’m wiling to admit. I’ve never had a gun pressed to my head before. I never want to feel that horror again.

  “Mercedes,” he calls again, putting a hand to my locker and shutting it.

  I stare at my shoes.

  He steps up beside me, and I hear his shocked grunt when he takes in my sore face.

  “What happened?” he asks, his voice low.

  “Nothing. Listen, I’m going home. I don’t feel well.” I don’t look at him as I turn and rush off.

  He catches me before I’ve even taken five steps. “What happened?”

  “Diesel,” I say, finally glancing at him. “I need to go.”

  “You’re hurt. You shut down. What happened when you went home? Did someone hurt you?”

  “Let me go,” I whisper.

  “Mercedes,” he says, his voice soft. “You can trust me.”

  “Can I?” I yell, something inside me cracking. “Can I trust you? Because you’ve hardly proved that I can.”

  It’s irrational and mean, but I can’t stop the words.

  A tear trickles down my cheek and he reaches over, swiping it off with his thumb. “Did she do this to you?”

  I step back. “No, she had nothing to do with it, and that’s the truth. I was making a point. I have to go.”

  “Someone hurt you,” he calls out to my back. “Fuck, Mercy.”

  I stop at the sound of my nickname and more tears flow.

  I don’t turn around—I just rush off before he has the chance to say anything more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Another,” I say, sliding my empty glass across the bar to the pretty bartender working.

  She doesn’t question it; she just pours me more vodka. I take it and swallow it down, loving the way it burns. I don’t drink often, but when I got home today Taj was there, and he was asking questions. Everyone is asking questions, and I’m not ready to give the answers, so I came somewhere that I could be alone in my thoughts.

  I’ve only had three drinks, but the warmth travelling through my body is nice. It makes me feel good. I just need five minutes to myself. I turned my phone off the second I left campus, and I don’t plan on turning it back on tonight.

  “Been lookin’ for you all afternoon.”

  I flinch and turn to see Diesel standing behind me, his eyes on my vodka.

  “Why are you following me?” I mutter. “I don’t want company, Diesel.”

  “I’m your friend, right?”

  I huff.

  “That’s what friends do.”

  “You didn’t want to be my friend a few days ago, so don’t try and be one now.”

  God, I’m an asshole.

  “Fuck. What happened to you?”

  I stare at my glass.

  “Mercedes?”

  “Nothing.”

  He grumbles a curse. “You shouldn’t be in here drinking, it won’t help. Let me take you home.”

  He reaches for my hand, and I snatch it away. “I said I’m fine.”

  “You’re not giving me any other option but to force the issue, and I don’t wanna do that.”

  “What are you going to do?” I grunt. “Throw me over your shoulder and haul me out?”

  “If I have to.”

  I turn and glare at him, but his face is impassive. He’ll do it. It’s written all over him.

  Jesus.

  I stand and slide some money over the counter before turning and rushing out the front door. Diesel follows me.

  “I’m fine. You can leave now,” I yell, crossing the road to the park on the other side.

  “Not goin’ to happen until I know you’re safe at home.”

  “I don’t want to go home!” I protest, heading down the path that leads into the thick trees. It’s quiet in here. Maybe I should have come here first.

  “Mercedes!” he yells.

  I spin around, throwing my hands in the air. “I don’t want to fucking go home, Diesel. I want to be left the hell alone! Is that so much to fucking ask?” My voice cracks at the end, and it only makes me angrier.

  “I’m tryin’ to help.”

  “What for?” I laugh bitterly.

  “Because we’re friends.”

  He crosses his arms and I lose it, taking out the last few days’ frustration out on him. I storm towards him and shove his arms, making him take a few steps back. “We’re not friends!” I scream. “We’re a fucking train wreck!”

  He leans in close. “I care, Mercedes.”

  “You do not!” I screech, pulling my hands back and shoving his chest again. His back hits a tree, but he doesn’t try to stop me.

  “If it makes you feel better to take whatever the hell happened out on me, then go ahead; I’m not leavin’.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I cry pathetically, hitting his chest over and over.

  “Nothing.”

  “There is, there really is. Stop acting like you care.”

  “I do.”

  “You don’t.”

  He grabs my wrists and hauls me up close. “I. Do.”

  “No,” I whisper, dropping my head to his chest. “You don’t.”

  He lets go of my wrists and reaches up, cupping my jaw and tilting my head back. “I fuckin’ do.”

  He leans down and brushes his lips across mine, and I’m done playing games. Done with it all. I want him to make it go away, to take this pathetic, empty feeling in my chest and crush it into the ground. I reach up, tangling my hands in his thick hair, and I kiss him. I kiss him hard, with tongue, and lips, and all the passion in my soul.

  He hooks an arm around my waist and spins me around, pressing my back to the tree. He crushes his body into mine, and I can feel every hard inch of him. Every. Single. Inch. I gasp as he slides his lips down my neck, sucking and nipping until he reaches the base, then he moves back up again.

  “I can’t keep away from you anymore,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ve tried.”

  I grab hold of his shirt and haul him back against me, kissing him with everything I have to give. He kisses me back, hard, his hands massaging my hip as he presses into me. I want more. I need more. I just . . . I just need him. I reach down and take hold of his belt, jerking it until it comes undone.

  “Mercedes,” he warns.

  “Don’t act like you don’t want it,” I murmur, dropping my lips to his neck.

  “Merc—”

  I reach into his jeans and find him hard and ready—he’s commando. I curl my fingers around him, and he growls.

  “Not here,” he grunts, and it sounds like it hurts to say it.

  “Why not?”

  “You’r
e hurt. You’ve had a hard time . . . it’s not the best idea.”

  Hurt, horribly hurt, I let him go and step back. “Right,” I say, shame rising and burning my cheeks.

  “You know I don’t mean it like that,” he says, reaching for me. I take a step back.

  “Mercedes,” he growls, stepping forward and catching me. “You might hate me for it now, but you’ll thank me for it later. I’m not fucking you against a tree. That’s tacky and fuckin’ cheap, and you’re neither of those things.”

  “Just admit—”

  “No,” he growls, cutting me off. “I won’t admit nothing. When I fuck you, and I will fuck you, it ain’t goin’ to be against a fuckin’ tree.”

  “I picked you as the bad boy, spontaneous type,” I mutter, my shame lessening.

  “We fuck for a while, then yeah, I’ll take you here. First time? No.”

  Embarrassment washes over me. “Who told you?” I whisper.

  “Told me what?”

  “That I’m a virgin. Who told you?”

  He freezes. “What did you say?”

  Shit. Fuck. He didn’t mean my first time; he meant our first time. I clamp my mouth shut.

  “Mercedes, what?”

  “I . . . nothing.”

  “You were goin’ to let me fuck you against a tree for your first time?”

  Now I feel like a fool.

  “I . . .” I say, my voice small. “I just want to feel better.”

  “Fuck me. There are so many ways to feel better, and that ain’t one of them.”

  I look away and he takes my jaw, forcing my gaze back. “Would have killed me if it had happened and I found that out after. Killed me, baby.”

  Baby.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I just—”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he cuts me off. “Let me take you home, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He tucks me into his side, and we walk out of the trees, me with my shame fully in place, but him . . . no . . . he’s showing me a side I didn’t even know existed.

  And I want more of it.

  ~*~*~*~

  “There you are!” Taj cries when we walk through the door. His eyes flicker to Diesel and get big.

  “Sorry. I was out with Diesel,” I mumble, walking into the apartment.

  “Ah,” Taj hesitates. “Right.”

  I walk over and squeeze his shoulder. “I’m fine. Thanks for worrying. I’m going to head to bed.”

  “I’ll make sure you’re okay, then leave,” Diesel says, glancing at Taj as he walks in.

  Taj just stands there, staring, his mouth slightly agape. I give him the best reassuring smile I can muster and lead Diesel down the hall to my room. Once we get in, I close the door behind us and throw my purse onto the bed.

  “I’m going to have a shower. You can leave if you want, or—”

  I look at him, and he’s watching me. God, those brown eyes. They are the door to his soul; you can read everything he’s thinking in them when he wants you to see it. Right now I see compassion, concern, and possibly lust.

  “Not leavin’,” he says, before I can finish my sentence. “Have a shower. I’ll get you a drink. Then we’re goin’ to talk.”

  “Diesel . . .”

  “It’s not an option, Mercedes. Go shower.”

  I study him and then sigh.

  I take my things and disappear into the shower, taking my time, needing the warmth and the comfort it brings. I try not to think too hard about Diesel being in my room and the fact that I had my hand on his dick less than an hour ago. The very thought has shame rising back into my cheeks, making them burn. I get dressed, brush my teeth and hair, then head back into my room.

  Diesel is sitting on my bed when I get in, and I see two sodas on the bedside table. He looks up when I enter, and his eyes soften slightly. I walk over, tossing the towel on the back of a chair before sitting down next to him. He studies my profile for a few minutes before saying, “You goin’ to tell me who did that?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper. I hate lying. I do. But I’m not ready to tell him about my family yet.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “I was out with some old friends. I went outside and . . . someone attacked me. They pushed me against a wall, and I busted my head. Nothing more could happen because Danny, my brother, came out and stopped it.”

  Diesel is silent for a second, before he says, “Someone tried to . . . rape you?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “I don’t think it was that. I don’t know what it was. It was over quickly, but it scared me. It really scared me.”

  “You see the person?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it threw me and honestly, I didn’t know that I should tell you.”

  “You busted my ass about bein’ friends, but you didn’t come to me with that?”

  I sigh. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “You sure that’s it?”

  I nod quickly, probably too quickly, but Diesel doesn’t question it.

  “You want to get some rest?”

  I look to him. “Why now, Diesel? Why are you considering an ‘us’ . . . now?”

  He reaches over, curling his hand around the back of my neck. “You know why.”

  “I don’t,” I whisper.

  “You were under my skin, but more than that—you see something in me that no one else does, and I’m fuckin’ tired of denying what’s right in front of me.”

  I smile, but it’s wobbly.

  “What’s it goin’ to take to get you back, Killer?”

  I blink. “I’m right here.”

  “You know what I mean. Getting my funny, pain-in-the-ass girl back. That’ll make me fuckin’ happy to see, baby.”

  “Well,” I say, leaning over and brushing my lips against his, “you’re on the right path to making that happen.”

  He pulls me back in and kisses me harder. My skin tingles all over. The kiss lasts a while until he eventually pulls back and murmurs, “Fuck you taste good.”

  I laugh weakly, then say, “Diesel? What exactly are we right now?”

  He shrugs, not letting me go. “Don’t know, but I want to keep doin’ it.”

  “Me too,” I admit.

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Not still scared you’ll ruin me?”

  His eyes grow serious, and he strokes a thumb over my jaw. “I’ll always be scared of that, but I can’t stay away from you any longer.”

  I study his face. God, it’s a beautiful face. But it’s his eyes that get me.

  They’re truthful and perfect.

  Real.

  The kind of real I think I need.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “You’re dismissed,” Professor Ross calls to the class two days later.

  I stand and throw my bag over my shoulder before rushing out of the classroom. I hit the halls and glance around, looking for Taj. We’re meant to be studying this afternoon before I start my shift. I move towards his locker, but find it empty. Grumbling, I walk towards the front of campus. He might be waiting outside already. I move towards the parking lot and see what looks like a fight happening. Students are everywhere, cheering and chanting.

  I tuck my bag in tighter to my arm and run towards the chaos. I reach the edge of the crowd and shove my way through to see Taj on the ground with Maxine on his back shoving his face into the dirt. “And you tell her if this message isn’t clear, my next one will be.”

  I drop my bag, fury rising in my chest. Then I step towards her, pull my leg back and kick her right in the ass, sending her launching over Taj’s head and face-first into the dirt herself. She screams as she goes down, but I don’t stop to see if she’s hurt. I reach down and grab Taj, helping him sit up. “Are you okay?” I ask frantically. “Taj?”

  He grunts and rubs his face. There’s no blood but he’s covered in dirt. “Nothing I haven’t had before,�
� he mutters.

  “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Come on, let me help you up.”

  “You bitch!” Maxine screams.

  I spin around and glare at her. “You so much as lay a filthy finger on him again, I’ll do so much worse. Stay out of my face!”

  “Diesel is mine!” she bellows. “You do not get to come in here and take what’s mine.”

  I grunt but don’t get to answer because Diesel appears through the crowd, arms crossed over his chest, face wild. “What the fuck?”

  “Diesel!” Maxine cries. “It wasn’t my fault; they attacked me.”

  Diesel shakes his head, almost as if he pities her. “You forget I know you, Maxine, and I know what kind of bitch you are. Stay the fuck away from them or you’ll deal with me.”

  He steps over and leans down, pulling me up before bringing Taj up, too. I dust at Taj’s clothes, trying to clean him, but he takes my hands and stops me. “I’m all right, Merc,” he says, his voice calm.

  “That stupid—” I cry.

  “Hey,” he continues. “I’m okay.”

  “It’s my fault, Taj.”

  “Don’t say that. We’re her victims right now; she’ll move onto someone else soon, and it won’t matter what they do. She’s a cow, and she’s cruel.”

  He keeps saying that, but I’m not sure I believe it.

  Diesel’s eyes run over me. “You okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “You?” he asks Taj.

  “Yeah.”

  He turns to Maxine, who is false-crying and staring at him like a doe-eyed little deer. “Last chance, Maxine. You touch either of them again and I’ll be making sure they press charges.”

  “You’re supposed to care about me!” she cries.

  “I broke up with you, clearly because I didn’t care about you. If you were a half decent human being, I might have cared about you but clearly, you’re not.”

  “I can change!” she yells, running towards him.

  He puts up a hand, stopping her. “Don’t care if you can, don’t care if you can’t. We’re done. Move on.”

  “Diesel!” she bellows as he moves us out of the crowd. “We’re not over.”