Bringing It Home (Code Of Honor Book 3)

by Reese Knightley

  Several hours later, a knock sounded on the door, making him jump.

  Diesel lifted the weapon that was sitting on the end table and put a finger to his lips.

  Triton froze, his eyes going wide as he watched Diesel rise and head toward the door. Had they found him? Was it Clay or Auto on the other side of the door? He tried to stay still, but every muscle in his body tensed as he anticipated making a mad dash down the hallway and out the back door.

  Diesel shifted the curtains, looking out the window before tucking the weapon away and opening the door.

  “Memphis.”

  “Diesel.”

  “What’s up?” Diesel gestured for Memphis to come inside.

  “We found Triton’s luggage.” The sheriff entered, pulling his rollaway behind him.

  “Thank you so much!” He jumped up and hurried to the luggage and pulled it across the floor.

  “You’re welcome. It had been knocked sideways near the bus station and nobody noticed it tucked into the bushes until this morning. We can’t find your backpack though,” Memphis said with regret.

  “It’s okay. I appreciate this.” He smiled and his hands shook. With sweaty palms, he carefully opened it, keeping the flap toward the men, blocking what was inside. He shifted through his clothing and things until his fingers found the hard object with a sigh of relief.

  He gave them both a big smile. “Everything is here!” He sighed happily and zipped the luggage closed. “I’ll go unpack it.”

  Jumping to his feet, he drug the bag into his room with Molly trailing along.

  Once inside, he shut the door and unpacked his things. They were damp and smelled, so he set them aside into a pile for washing and tucked the nine millimeter handgun beneath his mattress along with the bullets and smoothed down the bed skirt and then the comforter. Molly sniffed at the spot and he shooed her away.

  “Come on, girl.”

  He gathered up the laundry and stepped back out the door before heading to the washer. Sorting the clothes, he started things that would take the longest to dry first and left things he’d hang dry for later.

  “Everything there?”

  He whirled at the sound of Diesel’s deep voice, trying to stay as casual as he could. Diesel had an uncanny ability of reading him.

  “Yep.” He smiled and did a little jig.

  “Okay then.”

  “Where’s Memphis?”

  “He had to leave, he’s on duty.”

  His heart pounded. Had Memphis searched his luggage? Did Diesel know? He swallowed hard.

  “Want me to make dinner?” he asked.

  Diesel studied him for so long, his palms grew sweaty.

  “Please.”

  Diesel

  Come turn off the alarm.

  Making his way to the door, Diesel flipped off the alarm and yanked the door open.

  “Hey, big brother.”

  Zane jogged up the steps, drawing him into a tight hug. The “big” comment was said to tease him for being older. His little brother was equally as big as him. He hugged Zane back for several moments.

  “Glad you could make it.” He stepped back.

  Isaac stepped out from behind Zane. At first, Diesel hadn’t seen the smaller man.

  “Isaac.”

  “Hey, Diesel.” Isaac flashed him a quick grin and elbowed Zane out of the way and shook his hand. The guy always looked like he’d stepped out of a fashion magazine with an expressive smirk that said he was up to something.

  “Ready?” Zane asked as he gave Isaac an annoyed look. The pair had arrived just in time for the celebration of Molly’s safe return at the pub tonight.

  “Yeah, let me get the boy.”

  “Boy?” Zane smirked.

  Diesel flipped his brother off and turned toward the hallway.

  Their chuckles followed him.

  “Triton, it’s time to go.”

  He almost swallowed his tongue when Triton emerged from the room dressed in tight black pants and a white silky shirt with long sleeves that fell over his wrists. He also had on black chunky boots that laced up the front and jewelry. Triton wore glitter and eyeliner around his eyes that made them look huge.

  “Hiya.” Isaac stepped forward, blocking his view, and took Triton’s hand. Diesel growled. “Remember me?” Isaac flirted. Both team members had been there when Diesel had emerged with Triton from the collapsed mine.

  “He remembers,” Diesel snapped, and took Triton’s hand from Isaac’s and laced the boy’s fingers with his.

  Triton giggled and flashed them a wave.

  Isaac laughed, giving him a knowing look, and Zane chuckled. Diesel settled for giving them both a dark look rather than release Triton’s hand to flip them both off.

  It was a short walk to Tauber’s pool hall just a few blocks away. His knee felt fine at the moment, reminding him of the choice he needed to make. Even if his knee healed to full strength, his decision to leave the Army was becoming more of a reality than a thought.

  Isaac and Triton hit it off during the walk over.

  “He’s lovely. Yours?” Zane asked.

  “No.” His jaw clenched.

  “You called him boy. Is he going to be?”

  Was he? Diesel pulled his hand over his mouth and closely cropped beard. “I’m still debating.”

  “Don’t debate too long. He looks like he’s a keeper,” Zane murmured.

  As hard as he tried, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from how the light reflected off Triton’s blond hair, the curve of the boy’s cheek, nor the giggles at whatever Isaac was saying.

  Stepping inside the warm and noisy pool hall, he let the door close behind him. The owner had closed the building for the private event. Inside the large room sat tables and chairs with booths lining the walls. Every place to sit was taken, filling the room to capacity with friends. People he considered family. Some of them were into the scene and others were not, but never were they judged. Here in Fern, you were family, period.

  “Triton!” Miles yelped and dashed across the room. Triton clung to his hand.

  “Where will you be?” Wide eyes gazed up at him and he found himself drowning in large liquid pools.

  “I’ll come find you.” He brushed a thumb against the blush racing up into Triton’s cheek.

  “Come on.” Miles coaxed Triton away, and Diesel’s eyes followed the pair until they reached the booth that held some of their friends.

  Diesel smirked and met Ted’s gaze. The Dom grinned and gestured to the bar.

  “Come on, let’s get some drinks. I need to come back with a sex on the beach for Miles or he’ll be holding out on me,” Ted grumbled.

  Diesel chuckled and clamped his friend on the shoulder.

  The bartender, who just happened to be the owner’s son, sent them a wink and flipped a bottle in his hand before refilling a few shot glasses on the counter.

  “Diesel, Ted,” Whiplash Tauber, Whip for short, greeted them. “What can I get you?”

  “Whip.” Zane gave Whip a friendly smile.

  “Zane! How the hell are you? Home on leave?”

  “Kind of, and I’m good, you?”

  “Good, good.” Whip grinned. The guy was fucking gorgeous with a lean muscled build. His shoulder length hair was currently tied back. Whip was ex Special Forces. Ten years ago, he’d walked away from the military and never looked back after receiving a Medal of Honor for bravery.

  Whip had come back home to Fern and became a US Marshal. His dad owned the local pool hall, so Whip helped out behind the bar. Diesel, Zane, and more than a handful of the others had gone to school with Whip.

  Diesel combed the bar for Triton, careful to not let the boy out of his sight.

  “I heard Wolf’s taking extended leave,” Zane said, drawing his attention.

  “Where’d you hear that?” Diesel’s brows lifted.

  “Liam and Elijah were talking.”

  “What’s Wolf been doing?”

  “Hunting,” Zane m
urmured.

  “The big bad Wolf,” Isaac said with a shudder, and then waved at the bartender.

  “Well, hello there, beauty,” Whip flirted with Isaac. “What can I get you?”

  Diesel felt Zane go ripcord tense, and he glanced at his brother curiously. That’s odd. Zane’s expression was filled with anger. Or was that jealousy? Diesel was so flabbergasted that he couldn’t speak, but then Zane was stalking two steps closer to the bar.

  “Oh! Yes please,” Isaac said to Whip and planted his cute butt on the stool.

  “He’s not drinking,” Zane growled.

  “Why the hell not?” Isaac glared at Zane.

  “Because you need your wits about you tonight. Did you forget?” Zane scowled.

  “No.” Isaac glared at Zane. “I’ll have a soda.” Isaac smiled at Whip.

  “Sure thang, sugar,” Whip drawled, and Diesel could have sworn the guy was pouring fuel on a fire he wasn’t aware of.

  Zane’s expression turned into a thunder cloud, and Diesel suddenly choked with laughter.

  His brother gave him a look that could kill, and Isaac darted a confused look between them.

  Diesel sobered and stopped teasing his clueless brother.

  Glancing around the noisy pool hall, he again located Triton. The boy sat with Ted and Miles at a table crowded with people from the scene.

  “Here!” Triton waved when he approached and scooted over so he could slip in beside him. They were plastered together, and Triton cuddled into him.

  Ted gave him a smirking grin, and Diesel suddenly grinned back. He wasn’t going to lie, it felt fucking great to have Triton at his side in public. As if they were an item.

  It’s only temporary. He took a swallow of his beer and tightened his arm around Triton’s shoulders.

  The ground suddenly rumbled and the beer glasses on the tables shifted and moved across the surface. Triton reached for his and held it still.

  A few moments later, the door to the bar was shoved open with a crack against the wall and several big, beefy bikers stepped inside.

  Tattoo etched muscles and the smell of leather, wild, and wind came with them, and their leader stood out in front.

  The man’s face was a handsome, chiseled mask. The wind had pushed forward a few dark strands, and impatient fingers lifted to rake them back. A closely cropped mustache and beard lined firm lips, and cool blue eyes traveled around the room.

  Diesel slid out from the table and stood.

  The leader’s gaze landed on him and then a smile cracked the badass’ face.

  US Marshal Axel Bain, older brother to Memphis Bain, stalked across the bar.

  People moved out of the big biker’s way and the men that came with him. Axel was a US Marshal during work hours, but loved riding his Harley Davidson on the weekends. Sometimes, Diesel thought Axel did it for the shock factor. The group of men with Axel were various law enforcement that also rode. Diesel knew them by name and lifted a hand in return to their nods or waves.

  “Axel Bain.”

  “Diesel Gannon.” Axel returned his grin.

  “What brings you home?” He gave his brother-in-arms a strong slapping hand clasp and bicep bump. While not in the same platoon, Axel had served in the same military branch.

  Triton slipped out of the booth and Diesel slid his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders.

  “Heard my baby brother was having some trouble.” Axel crossed his arms against his muscled chest.

  “Oh?’ Diesel frowned.

  “Yeah.” Axel frowned back. “He’s not?”

  “No, he’s not.” Memphis complained from behind Axel.

  Axel turned around with a smirk. “Not the way our sister tells it. Rachael says you have a psychopath on the loose who beat up on a poor, sweet Triton. Now, I’m not sure what that is, but Rachael said you haven’t caught this asshole.”

  “Um…” Triton raised his hand. “That’d be me. I’m Triton.”

  Axel studied Triton clinging to his side, and then quirked an eyebrow at Diesel. “Yours?”

  “Yes,” he growled, irritated because he didn’t want any shit. Zane smirked at him from over Axel’s shoulder, and he scowled at his brother.

  He didn’t want Axel or anyone thinking they could hone in on Triton when he was still making up his mind about things. That was all! And that sounded like he was staking his claim. Shit.

  “Axel.” Zane stepped forward.

  Axel gripped Zane’s hand. “Hey, Zane. What brings you home?”

  “Same as you. My brother is having some trouble keeping poor little Triton safe.”

  The men chuckled.

  “Assholes,” Diesel rumbled and flipped them off.

  “Whip.” Axel nodded to the bartender who stood with his arms planted on the bar, the white rag gripped tightly in his hand as if he’d forgotten he was wiping the bar.

  Whip squinted at Axel and after a moment, the marshal nodded back.

  Axel chuckled, smirked, and turned his back on Whip. Seconds later, Axel’s group pushed tables together until they formed a long one in the back of the room to fit everyone.

  It was loud. It was rowdy, and Diesel enjoyed the hell out of it. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone loved Triton.

  His boy fit in well with his family and friends. His boy. He’d said that to Axel. Would Triton want to stay once the threat of Clay and Auto was eliminated? Would it be fair of him to ask Triton to stay after he was safe?

  “What are you thinking?” Triton whispered near his ear.

  He shook off his thoughts and turned with a smile to glance into Triton’s eyes. “Of how nice it is to get the gang all together.”

  “I’ve never been in a group this size. I mean, sometimes the salon had a party, but it was never like this.”

  “Not even a college party when you were young?” He quirked a brow.

  “Well, yeah, sometimes, but mostly I was too drunk to remember who was there,” Triton said.

  He gave the boy a quick frown, and Triton blinked up at him innocent-like, but the very corner of that sexy mouth twitched. Another moment and it dawned on him by the sudden sneaky, impish smile.

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “I am. I mean, sure, I went to a few keg parties, but I didn’t drink that much.” Triton giggled. “I can honestly say I had fun.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Did you go to any keg parties?”

  “Mostly it was getting drunk or laid when on leave.”

  “With your military buddies.”

  “Mhmm, and my brother.”

  “Mostly it was us getting drunk and him, sober, tossing us into the car and driving us back to base,” Zane said over the noise.

  “Tossed?” Triton’s mouth gaped.

  “Just look at his body mass,” Isaac pointed out.

  “I’d rather not,” Zane grumbled.

  “Yeah, I’d rather you not check out my bits, brother,” Diesel drawled.

  “Gag.” Zane scowled, trying not to laugh.

  Triton giggled, the rest of the people at the table laughed, and Diesel’s lips curved upward.

  Diesel

  Memphis’ phone rang, bringing Diesel’s head up.

  The sheriff lifted a hand and everyone at the table went silent.

  “Okay, will do. Thanks.” The sheriff hung up and the table grew even quieter.

  “Auto Martin is about two blocks away, and he’s brought company. Looks to be about fifteen men,” Memphis said sternly.

  Diesel scooted out of the booth and pulled Triton with him.

  The sheriff gave the signal to the rest of the room.

  They’d been almost positive Auto was crazy enough to interrupt their party, and it seemed they had been correct.

  People who weren’t law enforcement were guided into the back conference room they often used for community meetings.

  Memphis threw his brother a look when Axel pulled a weapon.

  “What? I have my badge on.” Axel
smirked and lifted the chain that held his US Marshal’s badge around his neck.

  Memphis rolled his eyes. “Just don’t get shot.”

  Axel snorted and made his way into the back hallway.

  Diesel took Triton’s hand and drew him to the door of the back room.

  “You stay here.” He gazed down into worried blue eyes and cupped Triton’s cheek.

  “Please be careful.”

  “I will.” He held the trembling boy close for a long moment and then closed the door.

  Ted took up a spot at the door near the conference room and checked his weapon. The Dom was ex-marines and not one to be fucked with.

  Axel leaned his big body against the opposite wall facing Ted.

  “They’ll have to get past Ted and me,” Axel said.

  “Let’s do this.” Diesel headed back to the front room of the bar and took a seat at the bar near the door. Some of the others mingled around, and others took seats, looking casual.

  Whip had also taken out his US Marshal’s badge and had it hanging from a chain around his neck. The jukebox was still going, and Whip used the remote control to turn it down several notches.

  It wouldn’t matter, once the fists started flying or gunfire began, the noise was going to be deafening.

  On the heels of that thought, the door cracked open and a big man stepped inside and around the divider that separated the inside from view.

  It wasn’t Auto. Diesel sneered. The coward probably thought to send his thugs in first to gun them down and then walk in later and snatch Triton.

  The leader of the group was big, Diesel would give him that, but he was used to being the biggest in the room, and the stranger couldn’t top him in height. Behind the leader came several more men. Gang and prison tattoos were etched on forearms, necks, and chests.

  Diesel shoved back his bar stool and stood, bringing the leader’s beady eyes to him. From his height, Diesel looked down at the stranger and the guy didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.

  Diesel didn’t give a rat’s ass. He’d deliberately put himself closest to the door, so he was actually closest to the leader.

  The men behind the leader fanned out as much as they could while they were boxed in by several men who looked mean as fuck.