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“Checking up on me?”
She laughs then, fully belly laughs. “A girl joining the Vipers? One I’ve heard has their utmost, undivided attention and loyalty? A lot of girls have tried, so yeah, I was interested. Rich was an old friend though, a good man.” She frowns. “I’m sorry about his death, the old bastard deserved better.”
I nod. “He did, he was one of the only good men I ever met. Took me in as a snot-nosed kid full of attitude.”
“Yeah, how did that turn out?” She smirks.
“I got a bigger attitude.” I wink. “And the skills to back it up.”
She grins then. “No doubt. He was the one who got me out of an abusive relationship when he found me crying in the toilet of Roxers.” She smiles sadly. “I owe that man my life. I never got to pay him back, so keep your money, Roxy. That debt now passes to you, and I will help you in any way I can. For Rich.” She nods.
I nod back. “Thank you, and feel free to bring your girls to Roxers anytime, free drinks.” I wink. “Fuck knows we could use the…appeal they’ll bring.” I laugh and turn to leave. At the door, I pause and look back at her. “You’re good at the game, Cherry, just make sure it doesn’t get you killed, it would be a fucking shame.”
Swinging the door open, I slip out, Diesel and Garrett following behind me. Garret leans down. “That was fucking beautifully done, baby.”
“Wait until we tell Ryder.” Diesel whoops. “I knew my Little Bird was going to be the shit.”
I shake my head with a laugh. We head through the club, winding through the tables, but just before we get to the door, we’re stopped. There’s a man there, one who was with the drunk guy from before, and he looks enraged. “Fucking whore, spending all his money. Can’t afford it yourself?”
Oh shit.
I feel the two men tense behind me, but the stupid fuck carries on. “You leave my brother alone. You got a problem, we’ll be in booth three. You can suck us off for that money you want.”
Welp, this stupid motherfucker is dead, and there ain’t no way I’m helping him.
“What did you just say?” Diesel growls, his face closing down. He slowly turns to the man. “You called my girl a whore?”
Where’s the popcorn when you need it?
He sheds his jacket, tossing it at me, and pulls back his hair, tying it at the base of his neck in a bobble. His chest glistens under the strobe lights as he prowls around the man, who now looks like he regrets his words.
“D—” I start, but he ignores me.
The swagger in the smooth way he walks has me licking my lips. He truly is fucking stunning, dangerous, dark, crazy, and fucking beautiful. He pulls his knife and holds it up for the man to see. “You didn’t think I would hear you insult our girl?”
Yeah, this guy is dead. I watch the stupid fuck who still looks like he might take Diesel on. It’s all false bravado of course, anyone can see how dangerous Diesel is. He’s a match waiting to be struck, and this guy? He fucking struck it.
“Run while you can, you daft sod,” I advise, but he spits in my direction. Well, I tried.
Instead, I grab a shot from the closest table and toss it back, leaning into Garrett to watch my crazy man at work. “This should be fun.”
“Baby, nothing is ever boring with you around.” He laughs, even though I feel him scanning the crowd in case anyone decides to get stupid and jump us or D.
“Fuck you,” the guy snarls. “You think you’re tough ’cause you’re here with your whore?” The guy laughs again, making me wince. Damn, this is going to be bad. “You are nothing, just two idiots being led around by your dicks by the same, low-rent whore.”
Diesel is done talking. He strikes with the precision of a man used to killing, who knows exactly where to hit. He’s unafraid and bold. His knife catches the man across the face, and the idiot stumbles back with a pained yell. His hand comes up to block Diesel’s next slice, which gets him across the chest, splitting his shirt and skin and spilling blood. But Diesel is a man possessed. He doesn’t torture or tease like normal. He spins and slices, enraged, his face locked in anger and death. His eyes hard.
He cuts the man’s wrists and the back of his knees, making him drop to the floor with a pained shriek. Everyone is watching, unsure whether or not to help as Diesel blows back his gold locks and steps behind the man. With narrowed, enraged eyes, he grabs his hair and yanks his head back. “That whore” —he spits the word— “tried to save you. Remember that when you’re in your coffin.” Diesel slices his neck from left to right, and it splits open like a gaping, bloody smile. Effortlessly, D tosses him to the floor to choke on his own blood, which is pouring from his wound.
Stepping over his body, Diesel prowls towards me, not stopping until he’s pressed to my front, and he hands me the knife like a present. “Want me to cut off his balls for you, Little Bird?”
Laughing, I take the knife and lay a kiss on his lips. “No, babe, that’s fine. Let’s go, I’m tired.”
He grins and pulls away, grabbing his jacket and tossing it over his shoulder. His other arm slides around my waist, taking me from Garrett. “Let’s go home.”
I look around. “I bet the police are coming.”
There are people on their phones, folks crying, and girls screaming, and then Cherry storms through their midst—calm, collected, and in control. She takes in the man then us and nods.
