Chapter 71 71
DAISY POV
By now, the whole room had gone graveyard quiet. Every eye in the joint was on us. The bikers stopped drinking. The gamblers stopped shuffling. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the building.
Tyler’s fake smile broke out again, but it looked more like a twitch.
“Diesel, man, come on. She’s just my little sis. Family shit. You know how it is.”
His fingers were still digging into my shoulder, his nails biting through the fabric of my hoodie. He was trying to force me to agree.
Diesel didn’t even glance at him. His eyes stayed locked on mine.
“Is. He. Your. Brother?”
Each word dropped slowly. Deliberate. Like he was giving me one last chance to save myself.
My mouth went dry. I could feel my pulse hammering against his thumb where he held my wrist. I could feel the heat of his skin bleeding through my sleeve. It was the first time in years I had felt another person's warmth, and it was terrifying.
Tyler’s grip tightened even more. Pain flared in my shoulder.
“Tell him, Daisy,” he hissed under his breath. “Tell him we’re family.”
I swallowed hard. I looked straight into those dead, beautiful eyes. Suddenly, my late mother’s voice echoed in my head, clear as a bell.
Daisy, the word of God said... Thou shalt not lie.
I looked at Diesel sharply.
“No,” I said. My voice was quiet but clear. “He’s not my brother.”
Tyler made a choked sound. It sounded like someone had punched him right in the throat. His hand flew off my shoulder like I’d burned him. He took one stumbling step back, his eyes darting between me and Diesel like a trapped rat calculating escape routes.
“Hey…” Tyler stammered.
In the twinkle of an eye, he lunged. He tried to snatch the envelope of money I was holding. He wanted to take the cash and run, but that was his dead mistake. Before he could even take two steps toward the door, his way was blocked.
Three massive men stepped into his path. Diesel hadn't even given an order, but they knew. Nobody leaves when Diesel is talking.
Tyler started shaking so hard I could hear his teeth clicking. He looked like he was about to collapse. The words started spilling out of his mouth—words no one had even asked for.
“It’s Donald’s money!” Tyler screamed, his voice hitting a high, panicked note. “Her deadbeat father used her as collateral! He owes Donald! I’m only here because Donald sent the message! I’m just the middleman!”
The guy beside Diesel—the sidekick—snorted and shook his head.
“Fuckin’ liar,” he muttered. He stepped forward like he was about to grab Tyler by the throat and end it right there.
Diesel lifted one finger.
Just one.
The sidekick froze mid-step. He didn't breathe. Nobody did.
Diesel still hadn't let go of my wrist. His grip wasn't hurting me, but it was absolute. He looked at the envelope in my hand, then looked back at me.
“How much does he owe you?”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I didn’t understand the question at first. My brain was spinning. Then it clicked.
He wasn’t asking about the debt I was paying. He was asking what Tyler and his people had stolen from my life.
I licked my cracked lips. My voice felt small in the massive silence of the club.
“Forty thousand,” I said. “Tonight was the last payment.”
Diesel’s eyes darkened. He looked at Tyler, who was now crying without making a sound. Then he looked back at me, his thumb brushing against my pulse.
Suddenly, Tyler’s eyes darted toward a guy standing in the front row of the crowd. Before anyone could react, Tyler lunged forward. He shoved the man aside and ripped a handgun straight out of the guy's back pocket. I guess he had spotted the weapon earlier and waited for his moment.
A loud muttered echo
Instantly, Diesel dragged me behind him with one hard tug on my arm. My back hit his leather cut. His body blocked me completely from Tyler’s view. I felt his muscles tense under the vest, solid and ready. He didn’t say a word. He just stood there, shielding me like a wall.
Tyler raised the gun. He pointed it straight at Diesel’s chest. A dark smirk spread across his face. His hand was steady.
"I know you hate unnecessary bloodshed in your own joint, Diesel," Tyler spat, his voice shaking but loud. "So tell your men to move. Make a way for me right now."
Diesel didn't flinch. He didn't even look at the gun. He just stared at Tyler with a cold, terrifying gaze.
Diesel’s men looked at him. Their hands hovered near their own guns, waiting for the order.
After a long second, he gave the smallest nod to his crew.
They stepped aside. A path opened up through the crowd, straight to the door.
Tyler kept the gun up for another beat. Then he backed away slowly, eyes darting between Diesel and the exit. He didn’t lower the weapon until he reached the heavy door. He pushed it open with his shoulder, slipped out, and was gone. The door slammed shut behind him.
The tension in the room broke. People started breathing again. Murmurs picked up. Bottles clinked. But I couldn’t move yet.
Diesel stayed in front of me. His back was still to me. He didn’t turn around right away. When he finally did, his eyes found mine first. He checked me over quickly, like he was making sure I wasn’t hit or hurt. Then he stepped closer. Close enough that I had to tilt my head up.
I let out a deep breath. My chest felt tight, like I had been holding it the whole time. My hands were shaking now that the danger was gone. Or maybe it wasn’t gone. Maybe it was just standing right in front of me.
For a second, regret hit me hard. I should have just handed over the money when Tyler first grabbed me. Dropped the envelope, played along with the “kid sis” lie, and walked out free. Paid the debt, got my life back, no strings. Instead I opened my mouth. I told the truth. And now I was here, standing in front of the man everyone called the devil’s right hand, with no idea what came next.
Diesel turned around. He didn't say a word. He just grabbed my hand again and led me toward the exit. We walked out of the smoky club and into the cool night air. He stopped at a massive black motorcycle. He didn't ask. He just gave me a sharp look and pointed at the seat.
He started the engine. The roar filled the alley. He didn’t ask where I wanted to go. He just pulled out.
I didn’t know where he was heading. Part of me wanted to yell my address over the wind. But I didn’t have to. Somehow the words came out anyway.
“32B Maple Street,” I said. Loud enough to carry over the engine. “That’s my place.”
He didn’t answer
I was so tired that my muscles stopped working. Without thinking, I leaned forward and rested my head against his broad back. It was a terrifying night, but his back felt solid and steady. For some reason I couldn't explain, I felt a sense of safety I hadn't known in years. My eyes grew heavy, and the world went dark.
The next thing I felt was the engine cutting out. The vibration stopped. It was quiet.
I opened my eyes and realized we were parked in front of my building. I was still on the bike, my head still resting comfortably against Diesel’s leather vest.
"I'm home," I said, my voice thick and sluggish from sleep.
"Yes. About thirty minutes ago," Diesel said. His voice was a low rumble.
"Thirty minutes?"
A shock went through me. I sat up straight, my face heating up. That meant he had been sitting here in the dark, perfectly still, letting me use his back as a pillow for half an hour. He hadn't pushed me off. He hadn't woken me up. He had just waited.
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I didn’t say anything. I just slid off the bike on shaky legs.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.