“You mean with the Warriors?”
“With anyone.”
“Saying I was your ol’ lady saved me with the Demons. Why would it be any different with anyone else, barring the Warriors. They’re just assholes no matter what.”
He didn’t answer her. She didn’t even get a grunt.
Club business was not a woman’s business. His security business wasn’t, either. He wasn’t going to talk about it.
That was nothing new to any of the DAMC women. Though, Diesel had been known to say more than he should on past occasions because no one would challenge him on it. But today wasn’t going to be one of those days.
She decided to go back to their previous subject. “So since, according to you, I’m not just a booty call, then are you still planning on rolling out of my bed in the middle of the night to go back to that disgusting shithole you sleep in?”
“Don’t got a mirror over my bed. Got a mirror over yours.”
“And that means...” she prodded, her heart thudding in her chest because she thought she knew what that meant but wanted to make sure.
“Want me in your bed?” he asked, turning his head on the pillow in her direction.
His dark brown eyes, his expression gave her nothing. He had a good poker face. Always had.
She rolled to her side up against him, placed a hand to his chest and stared down at him. “Yeah.”
“Then I’m in your bed.”
Just like that. From fighting her to not.
“Every night?”
His jaw shifted and his nostrils flared so slightly she almost missed it. “Can’t promise that. Can’t tell you what time I’ll roll in. But I’ll try to roll in every night. Got me?”
“Got you,” she whispered. “So no holding dinner for you.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “No, but can cook me shit if you’re good at it. Got a microwave. Know how to warm shit up.”
She pictured the state of his room at church. “Got a rule, though.”
“Nope. Diesel’s number one rule: no naggin’.”
“D, you can’t be throwing your clothes all over the floor.”
“Then pick ‘em up.”
Damn.
He continued, “Rule two: no bitchin’.”
“Well, rules were meant to be broken,” she muttered.
“Woman,” he warned.
Jewel bit her lips together to keep from laughing.
“Rule three: No runnin’ ‘round partyin’ with Kelsea. Wanna party, your ass is at church. Safe there. Not attractin’ strange, either.”
“D,” Jewel started.
“No lip, woman. Make that rule four.”
“Jesus, you’re bossy.”
“Yeah, you know it.” He hooked her under her arms and pulled her across him from shoulder to hip, then smacked her ass. “You love it.”
Jewel snorted. “Right, I can’t say I love you being bossy.”
“Love me?”
“Yeah,” she breathed.
“Love bossy then.”
She whacked his arm and rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, right.”
His eyes tipped up toward the ceiling and Jewel twisted her neck enough to see what he was looking at. Diesel laid naked on her bed, only covered by his tattoos and her. And his wide hand was planted firmly on her ass.
It looked good. It looked right.
“See that?” she asked softy.
“Yeah, baby. See it. Thankin’ Jag for puttin’ that up.”
She laid her cheek on his chest and sighed. “About time you got some sense.”
His body shook beneath hers and she tipped her eyes up to him. “Are you laughing?”
“Yeah,” he said and a smile cracked his face.
A fucking smile.
He was looking at her and smiling.
Holy crap! Her heart stilled, then started to thump wildly.
She melted into him more, wearing her own smile. “D...”
“Shut up, woman.”
She stifled her laugh and closed her eyes to savor the warmth of his skin, the strong beat of his heart, and the security of his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight.
Gonna take it as it comes, yeah?
Yeah, she was going to take it as it comes. And see where it goes.
Chapter Eleven
Diesel’s phone lit up. He put his whiskey down to pick up his cell. One of his crew was calling. He pushed away from the club’s private bar and answered the call.
“Hold up. Heading somewhere private,” he grumbled without even greeting the caller.
Hellos and goodbyes were just a waste of needed oxygen.
He headed into the meeting room to the right of the bar and closed the door behind him.
“Go,” he prompted Walker.
“Got some good news,” Walker said then stopped.
D waited.
“Got a bead on the prospect, Squirrel. Sent Ryder out to surveil the area. He was hittin’ up some pussy in Homewood.”
“Anybody else with him?”
“No. Like I said, just there for pussy. Low income housing.”
“Get ‘im?”
“Yeah.”
“Before or after gettin’ his dick wet?”
Walker chuckled low on the other end of the phone. “After. Came out with a smile. Then he saw Ryder, lost that lovin’ feelin’ real quick. Went from gettin’ fucked to gettin’ fucked in another way.”
“Right. Where?”
“Got ‘im at the warehouse.”
The “warehouse” was were D kept his office, his equipment and everything else that was needed to run his business. “He cryin’ yet?”
“Saw a couple tears. Did a little bit of blubberin’, too.”
“Gonna be doin’ more before we’re done.”
“Yeah... Boss?”
“Yeah.”
“Want in on this or gonna keep your hands clean?”
D thought about how he found Kiki and Jazz in that house that night. He not only wanted in, he knew Hawk would, too. Though he wasn’t going to tell his brother. Not until afterward. He didn’t need Hawk getting in a jam. Especially now that he’d settled down with Kiki.
D decided he would keep this on the D.L. Keep his brother out of it and on a need-to-know basis.
“Where’s Mercy?” D asked Walker.
“At the warehouse.”
Fuck. “He didn’t start yet.”
“Well, nothin’ hardcore,” Walker confirmed. “Waitin’ for word from you.”
“He got a plan?”
“Oh yeah,” Walker said softly.
D just bet Mercy did. His name was Mercy for a reason. You get on his bad side, you’re going to be screaming for mercy if it comes down to him exacting revenge.
No doubt about it, the man was a badass motherfucker. Sometimes he even scared D. And that wasn’t easy to do.
“ETA?” Walker asked him.
“’Bout twenty.”
“Got it.”
D hit the End button and tapped his phone against his thigh. He then left the meeting room, crossed the common area and pushed through the side door to the courtyard. His gaze swept over the area, the only light coming from the bonfire in the fire pit and a few lights by the stage where Nash’s band was jamming out, doing a tune D never heard before.
He spotted Jewel, eyes closed, drink in her hand, which was raised over her head, as she swayed to the music off to the side.
He needed to talk to her and get gone, but watching her made his feet freeze in place. She wore tight jeans, knee-high boots with a flat heel—thank fuck—and a hip-length black leather jacket that emphasized her narrow waist. As she rolled her head around, her long dark hair swept across her back and shoulders.
Jesus fuck. He wanted to fist that hair, bend her over and fuck her hard.
He forced his feet to move and when he approached her, her eyes opened and she held his gaze, her lips curved slightly. She turned away from him as he got close and b
acked into him, grinding her ass into his dick as she swayed to the beat.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered. This was not the time to get a fucking hard-on.
“Gonna dance with me, D?” she asked. He detected a slight slur to her speech.
He never danced in his life and wasn’t about to start tonight.
“How many?”
She bent over and shoved her ass harder against him. He grabbed her hair and forced her up. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her against him, his front to her back to keep her still.
“What?” she asked.
“How many drinks?”
She shook her head slightly, then took another sip of whatever she had in the red plastic cup. “Don’t know.”
“Jesus. Got business I gotta deal with. No drivin’. Got me? Get a ride home.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He pressed his mouth to her ear. “Woman. Remember rule four? No lip.”
“Just ‘round your cock.”
He snorted. “Yeah. That’s acceptable.”
She giggled and wiggled against him. “When’re you gonna be home?”
Home.
Jesus.
“Don’t know.”
She turned in his arms and gave him a sexy pout. “Need you.”
“Yeah,” he breathed.
“Want you.”
“Yeah,” he breathed again. “Me, too, baby. Got shit to deal with first.”
Shit she didn’t want to know about. Shit she’d never know about. Things that would make her realize how much of a beast he actually was.
She slipped her hand between them and cupped his now hard dick. “Wake me up when you get home.”
Again, with that home shit.
He hadn’t even moved in. He showed up, fucked her, slept in her bed, then rolled out in the morning to go back to church to shower and find some less dirty clothes. He kept nothing at her apartment. He had never even eaten a meal there yet.
Though, he did get a spare key from his pop. Ace had handed it over to him with only a cocked brow and a shaking head. And once D had grabbed the key and turned to leave, he swore he heard Ace laughing.
That’s because his father knew just how fucked D was.
Which was one hundred percent fucked.
“Might come back here after.” As soon as that slipped out of his mouth, he regretted it.
She blinked up at him and frowned. “Then I’ll stay here tonight.”
Fuck.
“I sleep better with you next to me,” she said softly.
Fuck him, so did he. He slept like the dead when she was tucked against him at night.
“Room’s a shithole. Go home. Be there when I can.”
She smiled and melted against him, pressing against his dick, which wasn’t helping him to get moving. And he really needed to go.
“Woman, gotta go.”
“Okay,” she said, both her voice and eyes soft.
Jesus. What happened to the smart-ass biker bitch she was? She was getting all mushy and shit. Next, she’d be wanting babies.
“You still on the pill, right?”
“What? Yeah,” she answered, confused.
He nodded. Thank fuck. He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and then set her away from him. “Behave,” was his last warning before he headed out of the compound.
* * *
Mercy circled Squirrel, who sat tied to a chair. His face was hard, his body tight. And he’d only just gotten started.
When Diesel arrived, he hadn’t expected quite what he saw... which was the metal chair Squirrel was tied to sitting in the middle of a bunch of plastic sheeting. Someone expected to make a mess.
And that someone was Mercy.
“Got any info?” D asked Walker, who was standing back, letting Mercy do his thing.
“Not really. Gave up Black Jack’s name, which we already had, so that was fuckin’ useless. Says he doesn’t know where the fucker is.”
“Need that info.”
“No shit,” Walker grumbled. “How far you gonna let Mercy take this?”
D met Walker’s eyes, then let his gaze slide back to Squirrel who looked like he was going to shit his pants. In his mind’s eye, he saw the prospect raping Jazz, carving “SWMC” into the skin of Jazz’s belly, breaking her bones, and beating her beyond recognition.
And then what they did to Kiki, too...
He shook his head. He needed to keep his head clear. Otherwise, he might strangle Squirrel with his bare hands and they wouldn’t get any info out of him at all.
“Diesel, c’mon, man. You can’t do this,” Squirrel cried out.
D ignored him. Mercy had already done some damage to the guy. But not nearly the damage Squirrel and Black Jack had done to Jazz and Kiki.
Not even close.
“Like beatin’ up women? Rapin’ ‘em?” Mercy shouted in Squirrel’s face, making the former DAMC’s prospect flinch. Mercy grabbed his crotch and jerked it. “Make you feel like a fuckin’ man?”
“Wasn’t my idea,” Squirrel croaked. “Swear, man. Wasn’t me.”
“The fuck it wasn’t,” Mercy growled. “Cops got the DNA you left in that poor girl. Got the proof. You’re so fucked.”
“Call 5-0. Hand me over to ‘em,” Squirrel pleaded.
Mercy laughed. “Too easy.”
“She wanted it,” Squirrel yelled in desperation.
Diesel sucked in a sharp breath and his whole body went solid. Before he knew it, he was next to Squirrel, his throat in his hand. “Say that again,” he growled.
“She wanted it. Begged us.”
D tightened his fingers and Squirrel coughed. D squeezed harder and Squirrel’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. His face turned a deep shade of purple, sort of like Jazz and Kiki’s after they’d been beaten the fuck up.
Mercy murmured, “D.”
Diesel blinked, took a breath, then released Squirrel’s neck, who coughed as his coloring slowly went back to normal.
“Break any of his fingers yet? Jazz had broken fingers. Broken wrists. Broken arm. Only right to give him the same treatment. Both had broken ribs, too.”
“C’mon, man,” Squirrel whispered roughly. “Used to be a brother.”
“The fuck you were. You were a prospect an’ a fuckin’ shitty one at that. Disrespectin’ our women. No brother disrespects our women. Got me?” When Squirrel didn’t respond, D bent over and screamed in his face, “Got me?”
“Yeah,” he finally squeaked.
“Where’s Black Jack?”
“Dunno. Already told ‘im that.”
“Too bad,” D said, then turned and strode back to Walker, who was now leaning against the warehouse wall, one leg cocked, his foot flat against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching the whole thing without emotion.
Mercy might be a scary mofo, but Walker could be as cold as a glacier. Unreadable. He had a poker face like D had never seen before. And that was scary in its own way. It was always hard to get a read on him because he only showed you what he wanted you to see. And sometimes that wasn’t even real.
“Steel and Ryder’s on the NFL bitch since Mercy was needed here,” Walker told him.
“Hunter an’ Brick?” D asked, not taking his eyes off Mercy doing his thing with Squirrel.
Both of them ignored the prospect’s screaming, crying and begging as Mercy played with him. And that’s what the man was doing, playing. He wasn’t even getting serious yet.
“En route so the second we get a bead on Black Jack, we can roll out.”
D nodded. “Want that fucker in the worst way.”
“Hear ya, brother. Gonna get ‘im.” Walker twisted his head D’s direction. “Again, how far do you want Mercy to take this?”
D ignored Walker’s question. He wasn’t ready to answer that. He knew the answer; he just didn’t want it set in concrete yet. He wanted to see how this played out first.
He approached Squirrel again and
Mercy took a step back from what he was doing, which was carving the ex-prospect’s name into his forehead with a knife.
“Didn’t hear a location yet, Squirrel dick. Gonna hold out for someone who shows you no loyalty?” D asked.
“Got loyalty,” Squirrel groaned, blinking quickly as blood ran down his face into his eyes. His head fell forward when Mercy released him.
“Fuckin’ Warriors got zero loyalty.” D made two fists and shoved them in front of Squirrel’s face. “See that?”
The prospect didn’t lift his head. Instead, he stared at the floor, his chest heaving from the pain he was in.
“Asshole, see what I got on my knuckles?” D asked again. His eyes flicked to Mercy and he gave the man a slight nod. Mercy stepped up behind Squirrel, grabbed the prospect’s hair and ripped his head up.
“Look, motherfucker, the man’s talkin’ to you,” Mercy demanded in a hard as steel voice.
Squirrel looked at D’s fists.
“If you can fuckin’ read, what’s that say?” D asked.
“Dirty Angel,” Squirrel croaked.
“Loyalty. Brotherhood. Family. That’s what it says.” D’s nostrils flared as he looked at the piece of shit that destroyed Jazz and nearly destroyed Kiki. “Think you need to see it closer.” And with that, D hauled off and slammed the fist that said “dirty” into Squirrel’s face, not only knocking the chair over but knocking the rapist out. He stared at the Warriors’ fallen prospect for a good minute before lifting his gaze to Mercy.
“When he comes ‘round, do watcha gotta do to get info. Then you know what to do after. Got me?”
Mercy considered D for a moment, then nodded. “Got you.”
“He gives up a location, I’ll be in my office.” D gave Mercy a chin lift before turning away.
As he walked out of the portion of the warehouse where Squirrel was being held, he gave Walker a chin lift, too. Then he went into his office, shut the door, and settled into his office chair to wait.
* * *
Jewel flipped over once again and punched the pillow attempting to reshape it to a more comfortable position. Like that was going to work.
It wasn’t the pillow making her toss and turn, it was the fact that D wasn’t home, wasn’t in her bed yet and it was... She twisted her neck to read the digital numbers on her clock radio by her bed. Three in the morning.
Down & Dirty: Books 4-6: Dirty Angels MC Box Set 2 Page 13