by Kim Jones
I shake my head, drawing my eyebrows together in confusion. “You’re asking? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She rolls her eyes and a disgusted look crosses her face. “I don’t know,” she whines, putting her hands on her hips. “I think it’s all this emotional shit. I’m losing myself. I can feel it.” She rambles on a little longer before closing her eyes and putting her hand out. “Forget I asked. I’m going to take a shower. Why don’t you make yourself useful and order us a pizza or something.” She spins on her heels, mumbling to herself.
“You know who makes a great pizza?” I call, just as the bathroom door closes.
“Who?”
“Monica,” I say as I walk down the hall.
“I fucking hate you.”
There’s my girl.
“Monica didn’t really make this pizza, did she?” Diem asks, three slices in. We’re piled on the couch in the living room, in the same position Dirk and Saylor sat the last night they spent together. The memory doesn’t ache like it used to, it actually makes me feel pretty damn good.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Monica sucks at cooking. Remember the girl with the big tits that was in front of me when you walked in? She’s the cook.” Diem’s pointy little elbow finds my ribs and I groan.
“I was married once,” she says, just out of the fucking blue. I could stab her for ruining my good mood.
“What?”
“I didn’t stutter. I was twenty-two. We were in love.”
“Horseshit.”
“We were!” She laughs, but I know that if any man ever had Diem’s heart, she never would have let him go . . . unless she killed him, of course. Thinking back, she did tell me once that she was married. And that she’d killed her husband.
Now I’m curious. But I don’t want her to know that. “Okay. I’ll bite. What happened?” I ask, bored.
“It didn’t work out. He was in it for my money. But what he didn’t know was that I was in it for a different reason too.”
“What reason was that?” If she says sex, I’ll kill her.
“I needed to get close to his uncle. It was my first job. I had to make him fall in love with me, which wasn’t hard by the way, get him to marry me, then convince him to take me to Paris to meet his uncle, who was hiding out from my father.” She takes another bite of pizza. Clearly, she isn’t upset at all about any of this.
“So, he didn’t know who you were.”
“No. He just knew I was rich.”
“Well, how did you convince him?” She shoots me a look that has me wanting to growl. Sex. Of course. “That’s very trashy of you.”
She shrugs. “Call it what you want. But he did take me to Paris, and I did meet his uncle. He was even kind enough to take us on a fishing trip. Sadly, his uncle never made it back.”
“What about him? How did you convince him not to tell?” She starts to say something, but I cut her off. “If you say sex, I’ll shoot your left tit off.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t have to convince him. He never made it back either.” What an evil bitch.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, confused as hell. Is she trying to prove how badass she is? Or is she just trying to push me away?
Turning to face me, she puts the pizza box on the floor and stares at me long enough to make me uncomfortable. “This isn’t the life I chose. I did what I did because I had no other option. I’ve never been asked if this is what I wanted. I don’t want you to not know who I am. Like today,” she starts, pulling her lip between her teeth and looking away from me. “I want you to know that who I was today is who I was trained to be. But it’s not who I really am. I’m sorry you had to see it.”
Pushing her hair back from her eyes, I run my fingers down her cheek before grabbing her chin. Forcing her to look at me, I offer her a smile. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I get it. Trust me.”
Fidgeting with her hands, she lets out a breath that sags her shoulders. “I’m struggling, Zeke.”
“With what?” I ask, ready to offer her any advice I can. I hate that she was forced down this path, but if she’s going to do this, I want her to know what she’s doing.
“People keep testing me. They undermine me and defy me and force me to do something I really don’t want to.”
“Like what?”
She looks up at me from under her lashes. “Like murder.” Oh. That’s impressive. My face shows it and she rolls her eyes. “I can’t kill everybody. No matter what Dorian thinks,” she adds.
She’s confused, upset, and the guilt is quickly catching up to her. And she’s just getting started. “You’re right. You can’t kill everybody. You have to be smarter than that, Diem. Smarter than your enemy.”
Narrowing her eyes in confusion, she shifts to a more comfortable position—ready to absorb whatever knowledge I throw her way. “How?”
“People like me hold little value over their own life. So threatening them won’t do any good. You have to dig deeper—find their weakness.”
“What’s your weakness?” she asks, and I don’t hesitate to answer.
“You.”
I stand and grab the pizza box, an uneasy feeling coming over me. I don’t like having a weakness. Good thing mine has the protection of the Mafia. If not, someone might be inclined to use Diem against me. The thought pisses me off and has fear—something I’m not used to feeling—settling in my gut.
She follows me to the kitchen, jumping up to sit on the counter while I busy myself cleaning. “You know you don’t have to worry about that, right?” I don’t answer her and completely avoid her gaze. I can’t even look at her right now with the thought of someone hurting her running through my head. “Zeke,” she begs. “Will you please just look at me?”
“What do you want from me, Diem?” I ask, giving her a tortured look. “What are we? What is this? Do I even have a right to feel the need to protect you?”
“What I want is for you to not worry about me.”
“And what I want is a fucking answer,” I bite back, my anger rising. I’m not even sure what I’m pissed about.
“This is complicated. It’s always been complicated. Now that the truth is out, I don’t know what to do.” Suddenly, she looks exhausted. Drawing in a shaky breath, she looks out the kitchen window and I know she’s looking at Dirk’s grave. “I want us. I want this to work, but we have got to keep a low profile.”
Hopping down from the counter, she walks up to me, taking my face in her hands. “This shit is bigger than me and you. We’ve both worked too hard to fuck everything up now. That feeling you have for your club? I have that same feeling for my family. I have to see this through. But I need to know you’re on my side.”
Her eyes move back and forth, searching for something in mine. “Okay,” I whisper, knowing good and damn well what she’s feeling right now. I loved her, but Sinner’s Creed was my life. “And you don’t have to ask, Diem. I’ll always be on your side.”
She smiles, shedding a little light on my shitty mood. “We can be like Bonnie and Clyde.”
“As serial killers, I think we’re a little more notorious than Bonnie and Clyde.”
“We’re not serial killers,” she scoffs.
I raise my eyebrows. “Um, yeah we are.”
“I don’t believe that.” She shakes her head, emphasizing that she doesn’t agree. “I’m going with what you said earlier. We are simply righting those who wronged us. We’re more like the angel of death.”
“Great . . . I’ve created a fucking monster,” I say, throwing my hands up and walking away.
“Takes one to know one,” she says to my retreating back. “Hey! Where are you going?”
“To bed,” I call over my shoulder. “Even monsters have to sleep.”
And she joins me, because angels do too.
24
I WAKE UP to an empty bed. Stretching, I look over to find that it’s after three in the afternoon. “Diem?” I call, but only silence answers me back. In the bathroom, I find a message written in lipstick on the mirror.
Duty calls. –D.
“Duty calls,” I mock, in my best Diem voice.
After a shower and shave, I call Rookie to see where he is, and I’m not surprised to learn that he is still at the bar. Everyone else is either still partying or sleeping it off, so I decide to take the day and finally clean the house back to its original glory.
Memories come flooding back as I fold the covers in the living room. Saylor’s scent still hangs heavy in the air and I swear I can feel her presence. I always thought she was some kind of angel. I start to ask for a sign from her, but then realize how ridiculous that sounds.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m bored, feeling lonely, or just reminiscing a little too hard, but I open Saylor’s diary and scan the names on the front page until I find Jeffery’s. He, along with his partner Donnawayne, were two of Saylor’s best friends. I figure they’d like to know that they had a sister-in-law. But of the two, Jeffery is the least dramatic so it’s his number I dial.
“Hello?” He answers on the second ring.
“Jeffery?” I ask, just to be sure it’s him, although there is no mistaking his voice.
“You’ve got ’im. What can I do ya for, sugar?” At one time, his words would have weirded me out. Now I just smile.
“It’s Shady.”
“Shady! Ohmigod! Donnawayne! It’s Shady!” I hold the phone away from my ear to prevent my eardrum from busting. So much for believing he wasn’t the dramatic one.
“Put him on speaker right now,” I hear Donnawayne command. He sounds excited and pissed at the same time—if that’s even possible. “Did we or did we not promise to keep in touch?” he asks, and I visualize him standing with his hand on his hip and pointing his finger at the phone.
“I’ve been busy,” I reply, thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“We totally understand,” Jeffery tells me, and I visualize him silencing Donnawayne with a look.
I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the overly dramatic cries I’m fixing to endure. Surely, it couldn’t be worse than the time I’d told them Saylor had lost her mobility. I was still recovering from that one. “I have some good news,” I start, but they’re guessing it before I can finish.
“You’re getting married!”
“Having a baby!”
“You’re gay!”
“What?” I bark. “No! I’m not getting married or having a baby or . . . gay. Dirk has a sister,” I spit out. A long silence. “Hello?”
“A sister?” Okay . . . not the answer I was expecting.
“Yes. A sister. I just thought y’all would like to know. And maybe we could arrange to get together sometime and I can introduce y’all.” I hold my breath, listening to them whisper on the other end.
“Did he say sister? Yes he did! Ohmigod a sister! We have to meet her.”
“We would love that, Shady.”
I let out a sigh of relief and thank the ear gods for allowing me to keep my hearing. “Okay. Good. I’ll be calling soon.”
It takes them another five minutes just to say good-bye and by the time I hang up, I’m exhausted and need a drink.
I arrive at the bar just as Jimbo is walking out. He instructs me to pack a bag and tells me Rookie will be filling me in on where I’m going. I’m a little relieved to find out I’m flying back to Hillsborough. Our flight leaves within the hour and by dark I’m back in my cabin, feeling lonelier than ever. I hate that Diem isn’t here and that she hasn’t returned my texts or my calls.
Rookie grills us a burger and we watch reruns of westerns that just aren’t the same without her sitting in my lap. My recliner feels too big. My house is too quiet. And I start to ask Rookie to initiate an argument just so I can pretend it’s her.
At midnight my phone rings and Jimbo orders me and Rookie to go to Concord and shut down a Death Mob clubhouse that is still up and running. More than excited about the opportunity to do something to get my mind off Diem, my adrenaline is pumping before I even make it to my bike.
It’s the first time we’ve ever been able to fly our colors on the East Coast. Even though the ride only lasts an hour, it feels fucking phenomenal as we pull into the clubhouse that will soon belong to us.
“Okay, boys, party’s over,” I announce to the group of men sitting around the card table inside.
My back stiffens and my smile widens when I recognize one of them as Fin, the chapter’s SA. Good. I’ll finally get to kill him. He stands, knocking his chair over and glowering down at me. Damn, he’s tall. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Being the smart-ass I am, I turn and point to the patch on my back. “Sinner’s Creed. I believe this is our territory now. Didn’t you get the memo?”
“Yeah, we got the memo that some bitch came in and took out Cyrus. But her ass has yet to show up here.”
I smirk. “Well, you’re lucky she didn’t. Instead, she sent me. Trust me; you don’t want that bitch here. She’s crazy.”
“Sounds like Sinner’s Creed still don’t know how to put a bitch in their place. Maybe I’ll teach you boys one day.” He gives me an evil grin before his eyes swing to Rookie. I’m livid and suddenly can’t wait to knock his teeth down his throat. One step in and I hear the sound of the safety being released on a gun. Shit. I should have counted them all. I turn slowly to see the old man behind the bar pointing a nine shakily at me.
“We don’t want no trouble,” he says, his voice quivering.
“Me either, old-timer. But—”
“Put the gun down.” My eyes move to the door and I see one of Diem’s goons standing there like a fucking Mack truck, holding a .44 Magnum that looks tiny in his hands. The bartender lowers his gun just as Diem walks through the door.
“Seven and Seven, please.” I roll my eyes at her attempt to be polite. “Now, which one of you called me a bitch? Oh wait,” she says, feigning shock. Her finger moves back and forth between me and Fin, who’s still standing. “It was both of you.”
She walks closer to me, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. How does she get to be so powerful, such a bitch, and fine as hell? It wasn’t fair. “Did I upset you?” she asks, frowning. “The whole crazy bitch thing, isn’t that a bit much?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, I’m in the middle of conducting business,” I tell her, my rage rolling in waves down my body. Fin was my problem. We had a history, and I owed him something. Nobody was going to take that away from me. I don’t give a shit who they are.
Her cheeks redden with anger. “Don’t do that,” she snaps, giving me a deadly look.
“Do what?”
“Talk to me like I’m out of my league.”
I shoot her a wink, hoping my charm will warn her off. “I just meant I have this one covered, babe.”
She gives me a sardonic smile. “Well, babe. I can take it from here.” She’s beyond pissed. She’s fucking livid. But so am I. And I don’t like being put in my place by anyone, especially a woman. This woman. My woman.
“Seriously, Diem, back the fuck up. I don’t know what your problem is and I don’t care. This battle is mine,” I say between my teeth.
“My problem is you speaking to me like I’m beneath you. I don’t like it.” She’s close enough now I can smell the wine on her lips. I want to suck the taste right off her tongue, choke her out so I can handle my business, then fuck her back to consciousness.
“Well, I don’t like you coming in here barking orders at me like I’m beneath you.” She raises an eyebrow, reminding me that’s exactly where I am. “Look princess,” I drawl, and her nostrils flare at my choice of words. “If you�
��re looking for a power trip, do it somewhere else. I’ve. Got. This.”
She looks like she wants to slap me. I can almost see the steam boiling out of her ears. Her whole damn face is on fire and that death glare she’s giving me is strong enough to have me considering backing down. But, I stand my ground.
“Leave. Now.” Her tone is threatening, but I don’t budge.
“I’m not leaving,” I growl, letting her know I’m not in a negotiating mood.
She’s not in the mood to negotiate either, and this is the maddest I’ve ever seen her. “Threatening your life is pointless. You’ve already made it very clear that you don’t care whether you live or not. So, given our history, I’m going to allow you a second chance that I wouldn’t anyone else. Leave now, or I’ll put a bullet in Rookie’s kneecap. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll be sending flowers to Carrie.”
I conceal my heartache. I hide the shock. She’d just threatened the life of my brother and my friend. She was using my own advice against me. I’d told her she was my weakness, but she knew Rookie was a weakness for me too. And now, she was using him as leverage.
I’d lost too fucking much and I didn’t need anybody who I couldn’t trust. She’d just sealed her fate with me. What we had was good, but it’s gone. This isn’t the woman I fell in love with. This is a woman who’s trying to prove something. And she just did.
I don’t know if she’s bluffing or not, but my brother’s life isn’t worth the gamble. My voice gravely low, I lean forward, growling in her face. “Don’t ever threaten my family again.”
I walk out with Rookie on my heels. I’d said I’d kill any motherfucker who wronged my family. And I meant it. I fully understand why she avoided my question when I asked if she would have killed me. Because now, I have the same dilemma.
If she ever threatens my family again—I’ll kill her.
And like all the others, I’ll have no fucking remorse.
* * *
“You know, she wouldn’t have shot me,” Rookie informs me. We’re back at my place, passing a much-needed blunt on the front porch.
