by Jc Emery
“I’ll lock it down.” I take a deep breath and force a smile to my face that I know he’s going to see through.
And he does. He shakes his head and stands, forcing me a step backward. His hands trail up the curves of my body to my shoulders and then the sides of my neck. He tightens his grip and pulls me in, so close to his face that I can’t focus on anything but his eyes. Not his thick, gorgeous lips, not his golden brown skin, or his wide, defined nose. It’s his eyes—these eyes that just obliterate every thought in my brain. They’re a deep, dark, gorgeous brown.
When I was little, my mom used to tell me stories about a Cheyenne legend that warned of looking into the eyes of an evil man, for doing so would result in blindness. I’ve always thought of Cheyenne legends just like those of fairytales or Bible stories. There may be some historical basis in them, but it’s mostly fluff and fantasy. Right now, though, as I’m staring into Diesel’s intense, probing gaze, I can’t help but feel blinded. Like I’m only seeing what I want to see.
“That’s not how this is gonna work.” His words come out on a whisper, so softly and with so much feeling that I’m completely sucked in. My eyes drop to his lips as he sucks in a deep breath and then stills. The gentleness of his words and the kindness in his eyes freaks me out a little. And I wait because he’s in control here, and even more than that, I want him in control.
“Something tears you up, even a little, and you unload on me. I know you can take care of yourself—proved that a damn long time ago—but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. That’s how we work, babe.”
“If you’re doing that for me, then shouldn’t I be doing something for you?” Yep, blinded. I’m flying blind here because normally I wouldn’t say something like that. It’s too honest and I hate going deep like this. The warmth of his eyes and the barely there smile on his face tell me he approves of me going deep, so even if I don’t really like it, I like putting that smile on his face.
“You already are,” he says. One hand drops to my side, and he pulls me against his built frame. He’s only a few inches taller than me, so his lips are close. Close enough to make a mistake I won’t regret later. His eyes drop to my lips and mine drop to his. He doesn’t move, though. The lack of progress we’re making in this—whatever it is—gets to me, and I close my eyes and breathe him in. Without another thought, I press my lips into his. He responds immediately and growls into my mouth. His tongue slides against my wet lips, and I invite him in, welcoming the way he invades me, dominates me, and sends such delicious shivers up my spine. Kissing Diesel is like finally getting a taste of something you were craving.
Chapter 3
The park is crowded with a whole mess of kids when we arrive. They’re running around the grass, climbing on the play structure, and screaming joyfully. I hang off to the side for a few minutes, just surveying the scene before me. Barbara stands at a picnic table that’s loaded with presents and a pink bakery box that just has to be the cake. I lick my lips without even realizing it and pray that Izzy’s still as much a fan of yellow cake with chocolate frosting as I am. Emotional crap activates my sweet tooth like nobody’s business.
“Fuck, you’re cute,” Diesel says from beside me.
I try to fight the blush that comes to my cheeks when he throws an arm over my shoulders and pulls me into his side. I bat him away, but it does no good. He just holds on tighter and smiles into the top of my head where he places a kiss into my hair. It’s a sweet move. Too sweet. I like it too much, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I haven’t felt this way in years about a man. Grady was the first and last to really catch my attention this way. Sure, men have come on to me. I’ve even let them think they’ve won me. The prize was taking me to bed, but they soon found out that’s all they won. Some were content with that and others weren’t, but I didn’t care. Until now. Until Diesel started saying sweet things to me. Until he threw his arm around my shoulders and told me I’m cute.
It’s incredible how good it feels to have someone appreciate me. Even if I don’t think I really believe it in my heart, I like the way the lie feels too much to push him away. So I don’t. I just sink into his side and let myself pretend this is real.
“So, we gonna stand here like a couple of fucking creepers all day, or are we going to join the party?”
“Join the party, definitely. I need cake,” I say. I feel more myself in this moment than I have in almost a year. Sure, Grady hooking up with Holly Mercer didn’t help anything, but that’s not really what threw me off my game. It was my dad’s death and all those pesky unresolved feelings that swelled up in the aftermath that have wreaked the most havoc in my heart. I’ve never been especially peppy, but I wasn’t always so sullen and morose. At least for right now, for a nine-year-old little girl who’s trying to have a good birthday despite one very important person being missing, I have to muster up some of the old me for her. I was being selfish earlier, and I think I would’ve hated myself for skipping out on this.
“That’s my girl,” Diesel says and leads us across the grass toward the party guests. The park is dotted with thick, old redwoods that shade the grass from the sun. Redwoods are all over Northern California, but you don’t get them like this in Sacramento. Not in the same number or the same lush colors as here in Mendocino County.
A little boy darts out from behind one of the larger redwoods and beelines for the play structure where Izzy is happily zooming through the air on one of the swings. I still in place, not believing what I’m seeing. He can’t be here. He just can’t. Diesel zeroes in on what I’m looking at and stops as well. His body tenses in reaction to my gasping when I see the little boy’s mother appear from behind the same tree.
“Oh, fuck no,” I mutter and move to rush across the lawn and escort Chel out of the park, but Diesel wraps a hand around my upper arm to stop me.
Something shifts in the air, and I forget what I was thinking about. The only thing I can focus on is the way Diesel’s touch makes me feel.
His touch is firm and unyielding. This is so different from a few months ago when Grady pulled a very similar move. He grabbed my arm and pushed me up against the 101 Club. He didn’t hurt me, but his touch was so different. I feel something in Diesel’s touch that I never once felt with Grady. Even when we were having sex and I’d mistaken it for making love, he never touched me like this. Diesel is gentle and commanding. He’s all masculine beauty in both his body and his temperament, but it’s more than that.
You’re not it for me either.
Diesel’s probably nothing special to other women. Just like Ryan and Duke—and now Grady—are nothing special to me, but to their women, they’re not only special, they’re it. I’ve seen the way Nic looks at Duke and how they both look at their little girl, Robin. I’d call bullshit if I hadn’t seen it for myself. Even more special—or so I’ve heard—is the pinky thing Ryan and Alex do. It’s a small way that they show their love. I can’t believe I missed it before. I can’t believe I thought I’d lost something when Grady hooked up with Holly.
I never lost him. He was never mine.
But this man beside me—he could be mine. I just have to make the decision to fight for us.
“Babe,” Diesel says, giving me a little shake. I blink away my thoughts and stare at him blankly. “Are you even listening?”
“Yeah.” I give him a thoughtless nod. I’m not listening, of course. I have no idea what he was saying or what we were even talking about. The only thing I can think about is how at twenty-eight years old I finally know what love is. I finally know what it is.
“What’s going on in there?” He pulls me up against him and rubs his thumb up against my temple with concerned eyes. I suck in a deep breath, and a shiver runs down my spine. Holy crap. I can’t react to him like this every time he touches me. I’ll never get anything done if I can’t get my shit together. It’s just, after all these months that he’s been coming by, teasing me, getting to know me, letting me get to know him, I c
an’t believe I didn’t feel this sooner. I can’t believe I took all those touches and smiles and moments for granted.
I’m an idiot.
I am an idiot.
“Talk to me,” he says, pulling my face in closer to his. “And save the bullshit.”
I search his eyes, hoping to find some sense of what I should say. The truth is out, so maybe saying nothing at all is best. My eyes focus on his parted lips. In an instant, Diesel’s moved in. His hand is around the back of my neck, and his lips are on mine. This kiss is way hotter and way more intense than our first one just a little while ago. Normally I hate it when men try to dominate me. It always feels like they’re trying to prove something to themselves—that they can overpower me. And I always hate it because it doesn’t feel right. Except now—with Diesel—the way he takes my mouth feels not just right but perfect. I suck his bottom lip in between my teeth. He squeezes my neck harder than I expect and his eyes pop open. His mouth is gone and he stares at me with a look of pure primal need.
“Do that again and the only thing I’m going to be eating is you.”
Holy fuck.
Holy fuck.
I clear my throat and somehow manage a throaty, “Down boy.”
We pull apart. I stand beside him awkwardly, confident that my knees will fold if I try to walk right now. My heart is beating like crazy, my palms are sweaty, my knees are weak, and every muscle in my frame is alight with a delicious need for more of him.
“So, you’re chill with Chel being here?”
I feel my eyes widen in surprise—not because she’s here but because I totally forgot that she’s here. In fact, I kind of forgot what we were doing here until just now. Izzy’s birthday. Dead dad. Shitty big sister. Forgotten present.
Cake.
“She better keep her distance. She so much as looks at me wrong, all bets are off,” I say firmly. “She shouldn’t fucking be here.”
“Izzy begged Barbara to let her invite Xavier. Their showing up is not a surprise, and if Barbara can put her shit aside to make her daughter’s day a little brighter, then you can, too.”
“I’m not happy.” It’s the only thing I can get out right now. He’s right. Today isn’t about me and my issues, and if Barbara can deal with her dead husband’s whore hanging around and eating her cake, then I guess I can, too.
“I can deal with not happy,” he says.
I take a step forward, toward the party when Diesel reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. I like this a lot. I’m not his dirty little secret, and I’m not his whore at the club. I’m the girl he takes to kids’ birthday parties.
And he holds my hand.
It’s official.
I’m that woman I hate. I’m that woman who gushes about stupid shit. The one who walks around with a dumbass smile on her face. This phase better pass soon, or I’m going to have zero self-respect before I even get a chance to take him to bed.
“You look pretty happy to me,” Diesel says in a teasing tone. I wipe the stupid smile from my face and roll my eyes. I open my mouth to tell him to shut up when my cell rings from my back pocket. It’s the generic ring tone again. Reluctantly, I pull away and shoot Diesel an apologetic glance as I grab my cell and swipe my finger across the touch screen to answer the call.
“You got Elle.”
Angry, labored breaths sound in my ear, and just when I’m about to hang up, the person on the other end clears their throat.
“I got a fifty that says I’m the last person you expected to hear from.” The deep Midwestern twang of his voice gives him away. It’s Rig.
“You got a lot of balls calling me,” I say. What the actual fuck is he doing calling me? I’ve been on his trail for months now. I’ve had all but two leads that turned into dead ends since I took the case back in May. Amber may be my official client, but I have my suspicions that it’s someone much higher up the Forsaken food chain who put her up to it. She had info on Rig that I doubt she could have gotten on her own—whether she’d been sleeping with him for years or not.
“Just cutting out the middle man,” he says. “You gotta know—everything that’s gone down wasn’t personal. Not even this. You’ve made my life damn difficult, woman. Your dad would be proud.”
“Thanks for the endorsement. After I put a bullet in your head, you’ll have to tell him yourself.” Fuck. What is his game plan? Why is he calling me? I avoid Diesel’s eyes like they’re toxic or something, because I can’t have him getting up in my shit right now. Admitting to my new—I don’t even know what to call him—that I’ve been all up in club business isn’t really the way I want us to start out. It’s not easy because every time I move or dodge his gaze, he moves to get right back in my line of sight. Forsaken men don’t know the meaning of personal space. This is something I might have wanted to consider before falling all over myself today. In normal social circles, a woman can kiss a man, flirt with him, and then move on. In Forsaken’s world, when a woman acts like that with an available brother—and he wants her for keeps—she doesn’t get to just take it back. I’m sure he’d eventually leave me alone if I made it clear I wasn’t up for anything with him, but that would require me convincingly telling myself and him that I don’t want him for weeks, if not months, before he would finally leave me alone.
“Work,” I mouth to Diesel, flashing him a lame smile, and then turn around.
Rig chuckles in my ear, but it sounds less jovial and more hateful.
“You get close enough to put one between my eyes and your nephew will already be dead.”
Diesel comes around, putting himself in my line of sight again. He pulls me against his chest, and even though I should move away, where he can’t hear anything, I can’t. I can’t move or protest, so I just place my head on his pec. If it weren’t for him holding me against his chest, I might fall to the ground.
When Amber called about Zander being missing, I didn’t think twice about it. He’s gone MIA a dozen times before. His cell being off was a little abnormal, but he’s older now, and he’s been wising up the last few months. When he first started his magic act, he really sucked at it. Either Amber or I could always find him within an hour or two. Slowly but surely he’s gotten really ace at not being found, so I figured this was just the next step. The little fuck wised up and realized that if he could deal with not tweeting or whatever for a few hours, he could stay out later doing whatever the hell it is he stays out doing. But that wasn’t it at all.
I was afraid of this. I should have said something to Amber about my fears, but she’s been dealing with so much that I couldn’t bring myself to worry her any more. So I just never let myself believe my fears were warranted.
“I need proof,” I say.
“You’ll get your proof in just a minute, but first we need to talk shop. Tell your girl I need thirty grand to start fresh. Since you have every bounty hunter from California to New York looking for me, I can’t really go home, now can I? I’ll let her know when and where we’re going to make the exchange. Amber will bring my money and I’ll give her her son back when I say, and nobody else better fucking be there with her. Until then, work on getting the cash and don’t be stupid. Zander thinks we’re on vacation, but if you tip him off that anything is wrong, I won’t hesitate to drop him.”
“Put him on the phone.” My voice is ice cold, and there’s no hiding that my supposed call from work isn’t very friendly, nor is it very businesslike. Diesel pulls the phone from my ear and puts it on speaker phone so he can hear what’s going on. There’s rustling on the other end and then exasperated teenage bitching in the background.
“This camping shit is fucking lame, Uncle Rig,” Zander says.
“Watch your mouth. Your aunt’s on the phone,” Rig says.
“Hey, Aunt Elle. You coming to take my ass someplace with fewer fucking trees and maybe a few more TVs?”
I don’t look at Diesel. I can’t. Instead I just focus on the task at hand.
“I
wish, bud. Just try to enjoy your time with your uncle, okay?”
“There ain’t shit to do here,” Zander whines. In moments like this it’s easy to forget that he’s not a little boy anymore. At fourteen, Zander is already as tall as I am. Amber says he’s almost lost that little boy lankiness the guys in the club always teased him for. If there was any doubt that he’s his father’s son, his recent growth spurt completely squashed it. Not that anyone who knows the both of them could ever doubt who his dad is—he looks just like him.
“Be safe, Z.” He sounds fine. Grouchy, but fine. That doesn’t mean much, though. Rig’s unpredictable, and things could turn at any time.
“Love you,” Zander says quietly.
My heart sinks. He hasn’t told me he loves me in years. I could lie to myself about what those words mean coming from him, but now’s not the time to pretend everything is okay. A fourteen-year-old boy throwing out a random I love you like that is never random. He knows he’s in trouble, and while he’s certainly big enough to take Rig on, he doesn’t have the muscle mass or skillset to do it with ease just yet.
The line goes dead, but I can’t bear to move. Thankfully, Diesel doesn’t push it. He just slides my phone into the pocket of his jeans and waits.
“You told me you need me to trust you. This is a make-or-break moment, D. You’re either with me, or you’re against me, but I have to know right now, before I tell you anything, that you got my back and you’re not going to pull your patch on me.”
“I won’t pull my patch if you can tell me I won’t be losing the fucking thing for taking your back on whatever the fuck you got yourself into with Rig,” he says, taking me by surprise.
“We get that boy back to his momma without a scratch on him and we both get to keep our shit intact. You don’t help me, I’m going after him alone. You can bring the club in on this and put more of their women at risk if you want. You can even walk away and pretend you didn’t hear shit. But there’s nothing that’s going to stop me from getting my nephew back. You got me?”
