Chapter 77 77
DIESEL POV
“Wife,” I said. Flat.
“Yeah,” Donald said, while a long exhale came through the speaker—cigarette smoke being released slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. I could picture him leaning back in a leather chair.
“What the hell are you saying?” I growled.
He let out a soft laughter. “Exactly what you heard. Daisy is mine. She always has been. Always."
“You’re delusional.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just a patient man,” he said with another drag of smoke. The sound of it crackled through the line. “Do you want a story time, Diesel? Now listen. You know her father—that worthless coward—used her as collateral when she was only seventeen. Ran away and left her to pay for everything alone. And honestly? That worked out even better for me.”
“What do you mean? You already got your fucking money,” I growled. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone.
“Yes,” he said sharply. “But that's not the whole point. The debt was paid, but I liked the interest."
My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. I stayed quiet, waiting for him to keep talking. I knew he would. Men like Donald love hearing themselves.
“Back when she was seventeen,” he continued, “she was just a skinny little thing. Big scared eyes, no real curves. Flat chest, no hips, nothing to hold onto. I could’ve taken her then, but I’m not some impatient dog. I told myself I’d wait. Let her turn eighteen. Let her body catch up. So I waited.”
He paused, like he was enjoying the memory.
“But then, she turned twenty-two, and suddenly—boom. Everything filled out. Those breasts got full and heavy. Her ass rounded out perfectly in those cheap jeans. Tiny waist, hips that finally curved the right way. She turned into exactly what I’d been waiting for. A body worth breaking. A body worth half a million to bring back home.”
Rage boiled under my skin, slow and steady. My free hand curled into a fist so tight the nails cut into my palm. I didn’t speak. I just listened while he painted every sick detail.
“So Diesel, you can’t just ride in on your bike and take her from me?” Donald went on, his voice dripping with that casual, sickening arrogance. “I’ve had my eyes on her since she was seventeen. Years of waiting. Years of planning. You’re not going to ruin that… right?”
The sound of my teeth clicking together echoed in the silent office. It was a sharp, predatory sound. My jaw was so tight I could feel the muscle jumping in my cheek.
“I can’t promise that,” I said, my voice coming out like the low rumble of an idling engine. “The only thing I can promise is I might spare you... if you stop trying to bring the monster out of me.”
“Die—”
“Twenty minutes, Donald,” I cut him off, my words cold and final. “Pick up your phone and take that price off her head.”
I didn't wait for his reply. I didn't want to hear his voice for another second.
“Go to hell,” I muttered, and I hung up.
I ended the call with Donald and stayed in the office a moment longer. My hand was still clenched around the phone. The anger was there, but right now I just needed to check on her. I didn’t know exactly why. I just did.
I walked out and started climbing the stairs slowly. When I was halfway up, I looked at my watch. Almost 3 a.m. She should already be sleeping.
I reached the hallway. It was quiet. Only one weak light at the end. Then I saw someone standing close to my door. Same place Daisy is. The person was in a black hoodie. Hood pulled low over his face. His back was turned to me. The way he stood felt off. I didn’t know that shape.
“Hey,” I said, voice low.
The person stopped moving. Turned around slowly. Face still hidden deep in the hood. He gave a quick bow, like he was trying to look respectful.
“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, taking one step closer.
I reached out to grab his shoulder, but he lunged. He shoved me hard into the wall and bolted for the back stairs.
"Fuck!" I yelled. I ran after him.
Downstairs, the main room was alive. Music loud. Pool balls clicking. Brothers talking, laughing, drinking. Black hoodies on half of them. Five or six guys wearing the same thing. He could disappear in there in seconds.
I stopped and looked around carefully. No one running. No face I could pick out. I could yell for everyone to stop. Lock the doors. Check every person. But the moment I did that, the news would fly. I just had to bite my tongue. $500,000 was a lot of money. If I told them a bounty was in the house, it would be chaos. Even a brother might turn for that kind of cash.
I pushed through the crowd, kept searching with my eyes. Over by the bar—a guy about the same height, hood up. I walked over quickly, grabbed his shoulder, and turned him.
"The hell, Diesel?" Miller snapped.
I let go and kept looking. Before long I saw it—near the back exit. A figure moving out fast. Hood still low. Too quick for someone just going for a smoke. I pushed through the crowd, ready to follow, but I bumped right into someone.
“Damn. It’s Raven.”
"What the fuck, Diesel!" Raven yelled.
"Raven, shut up and listen," I said, grabbing her arm. "I'm going out. Go upstairs. Guard Daisy’s door. Don't let anyone in. Not even a brother."
"What’s going on?"
"Just do it!" I barked.
I ran out the side door into the night. A bike roared to life near the gate. The rider kicked it into gear and tore off, spraying gravel everywhere. My bike was too far. I jumped on the nearest chopper, a prospect’s bike. I kicked the engine over, pinned the throttle, and screamed out of the lot, chasing the red tail-light into the trees.