Diesel Page 8

  I gulp down the last bit of my drink and set it down on the counter. The bartender nods at me with a knowing smile. “Thanks, man,” I mutter at him. If it hadn’t been for him giving me away to Gunner and Ace, I might have been out the door and back at the bus stop by now. The bastard can go to hell for all I care. He just signed my tombstone.

  It’s a slow walk back up the stairs to the apartment. The bar has once again filled with noise and smoke as if nothing had happened moments earlier. The rain, too, has finished, clearing the way for a breezy, cool evening.

  I take a second to lean against the metal railings of the porch to think. What the hell did I just get myself into? How am I going to face my brother for the third time today – and with the news that I not only slept with his jailor but am now his claim?

  Tears gush around the corners of my eyes, then fall soundlessly down my face, till my vision is hazy and my body grows tired. I have no idea how long I have been standing here sobbing. But it’s the feeling of Diesel’s hand on my shoulder that brings me back to reality.

  “You need to get inside. It’s getting rowdy down there. I don’t want them coming up here looking for you.” He stares off towards the door as if it might burst open any minute with the mob and their pitchforks close behind.

  “I can’t go in there. I can’t face Tyler again. What if he wants me to leave? What if he won’t talk to me?”

  “That doesn’t matter. It’s my fucking place. I can bring whoever I want back with me.”

  I look out towards the alleyway, something dawning on me… “My bus! My bus home! It leaves in an hour. I can’t miss it. I have work to go back to, and my parents will be worried if I’m not around town. You have to bring me back to the bus stop.”

  “Woah. Like hell I will. Did you hear Knux down there? He wants you – probably as some kind of bait to get Tyler to move on the money. And either way, whether he gets the cash or not, you’ll end up dead.”

  “But, but,” I blubber, “you promised you’d pay Tyler’s debts. Won’t this end if you write them a check or something?”

  “It’s not that easy, Blanche. They don’t just want the money. They want blood. They think Tyler stole from them, which is one of worst crimes you can commit when you’re part of a club. Thieves get swift justice, and they’re not going to let him walk away without an explanation of who his contacts are and how he got the money back.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said. I’ll give Tyler the cash loan. I won’t back out on that, but he’s gonna have to answer for the shit he’s pulled – whether he did it or not. I can’t make it go away with the money alone.”

  “So what you’re saying is that neither Tyler or I can leave until…”

  “Until Tyler figures out how to get out of this shit. If you take a step outside this apartment without me, I can’t guarantee your protection. Knowing Knux, he’s setting up a squad right now to watch for you. The moment you step away, you disappear from me. And I can’t help you get home if you disappear from me.”

  “Is that what a claim means? That’s what they asked me, right? That you made a claim on me?”

  “Yeah. It’s when a senior member says he’s found his woman. He lays claim to her by screwing her. It’s like marking territory. No other Bonebags or members of clubs we’re aligned with can touch you. They can’t hurt you. They can’t fuck you. You’re mine until I release you.”

  My mouth goes dry again thinking of this. “And what about you? What do you have to do with your claim?”

  “Keep you the fuck out of the way. Keep you silent. Make you obedient to me. Claims are expected to be their man’s servant. It’s a privilege that not a lot of girls get. Those boys down there will want to see you loyal to me and only me, and I’m expected to be the same.”

  “Why would you do that – take me as a claim? You could have walked away or let them have me. You didn’t need to tell them about us having sex. We were over with when we completed the deal. Business only, right?”

  He pauses for a second as he walks towards me. He leans on the railing where my arms dangle over the side, and his dark eyes flash over the small parking lot. With a large sigh, he murmurs, “I have no fucking clue why I’m doing this. Maybe it’s because I like your brother, and I’ve got this feeling I can’t shake that he’s innocent. Maybe you’re a damn good lay, and I wouldn’t mind keeping you around at least for show. Who the fuck knows?”

  “That’s reassuring. I thought that maybe you would have a better explanation for me than—”

  He raises a quick hand to my face. “Shut up for a second.” He outstretches his arm towards the back entrance of the building. “When we came in earlier today, there was a gate, you remember?”

  “Yeah. The wrought iron one that squeaked horribly when you closed it behind you.”

  “That one, yes. You are one hundred percent sure that I closed it, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, not following him, “Why? Is it supposed to be closed? Are you going to be in trouble for it or something?”

  “Shit. Shit. Shit. No. No. No.” He looks around the porch, running back and forth from one end to the other. The other two or three apartment windows are darkened, but he looks in vain through them with his face pressed against the glass. When nothing happens, he runs back towards me and shouts, “Stay the fuck here. Don’t move.”

  “What? What’s going on, Diesel? What’s happening?” I follow him back into his apartment. The lights are still on, and the place is as quiet as it was when we first came back. Maybe a bit too quiet. My senses flair as I ask the first question that pops into my mind, “Diesel, where’s Tyler?”

  He doesn’t answer. He marches himself back and forth throughout the rooms, his feet stomping like bass drums as he goes.

  “Diesel!” I shout. “Where’s my brother? What happened to him?”

  I follow him back into his bedroom. The sheets are still a tangled mess on the bed. His discarded shirt and belt are lying on the floor where I placed them just hours before. But next to it is something new, something I know wasn’t there before I left during our fight – a ruby red pile of blood.

  “Whose blood is this, Diesel?”

  “Tyler.” He growls as he grabs a bag from one of his built-in shelves against the wall. He begins throwing items inside, including a black leather riding jacket.

  “What did you do to him? Where is he?”

  “I don’t know, Blanche. That’s the fucking problem. I knocked the kid out when he tackled me to the ground. It was the only way I could get him to stop without doing major damage to him. He should have been out for at least an hour or two, so I left to go looking for you. I knew you’d run into the club, and I didn’t want them to spot you.”

  “You left him alone and unconscious?” I say, totally taken aback. “How could you do that? He could have died? He could have—”

  “Ran away?” he shoots back. “Because that’s what your idiot brother did. The fucker got up and walked away even though he knows he needs to be under my watch. The asshole is going to get himself killed!”

  “How do you know that? What if someone took him while we were downstairs?”

  “That’s a possibility, but look at the blood. There are no streaks, no lines of it. He was bleeding when he got up. That’s for sure. And if someone carried him out, there would have been at least some marks showing it. They wouldn’t have had time to clean up.”

  “Okay, but what if he was out of it and confused, so he got up and walked out of the house when you weren’t here? Maybe he’s looking for you?”

  “Another good guess, but his wallet and phone are gone. He didn’t have it when I knocked him out, or I would have felt it when he was pummeling me. And he took a backpack too from the front hall. His drawers in his room look as if someone’s gone through it in a hurry. He went packing.”

  “Oh, God...” I try to comprehend everything, but this is too much, too fast. I only just got here today. I onl
y now found out about the other life my brother is leading. How am I supposed to understand all of this chaos…

  “What are we supposed to do?” I ask almost desperately. “Should we call the cops?”

  I know it’s a stupid solution. What are they supposed to do about an adult man on the run from a motorcycle gang because he stole cash from their illegal operations? The only one that cares that he’s gone is the Bonebags and the two of us.

  “I’m going after him,” Diesel replies as he grabs his riding bag and throws on his leather jacket. “He doesn’t have his bike so he couldn’t have gone far. Bleeding like that, he’s going to attract attention. I know about every druggie and drunk in this town. I’ll convince someone to rat him out.”

  “And what if you don’t find him? What are you going to do? What will the club do?”

  “I’m not going to think about that right now. He’s tried to escape before, and I’ve found him before he could even get to the county border. Your brother isn’t the fastest or smartest delinquent runaway I’ve met, sister. He’s a damn fucking fool if he thinks he can run from me. I’ll hunt the kid down and bring him back before the drunken idiots downstairs shake off their hangover.”

  “Oh, God. What about me? What if they, uh, come up here?” I ask, my voice trembling.

  I know I shouldn’t be thinking about me at a time like this, but I can’t get Knux’s voice out of my head. He wants me. He wants to use me. And when he gets what he wants, he’ll dispose of me. I’m not safe without Tyler or Diesel around for protection.

  Diesel turns back towards the bedroom and leans under the bed. His arm disappears under the bed skirt, rooting around blindly for something. I hear a few clicks and then his hand releases. When he stands up, he holds out a small handgun for me, but I can’t take it from him – not while my hands shake and shiver like they are.

  “I – I can’t – I’m…”

  “You’re what? You’ve never used one before? That doesn’t surprise me.” He snickers slightly as he fiddles with the gun. “I’ve turned the safety off. It’s loaded. There are eight bullets in the chamber, so that’s all you get. If they come looking for you and try to pull something, you use it. Jump the balcony and get out the backway. Don’t go through the bar. Run east for about three blocks, and you’ll run into a cop car or two. The guys on the beat are loyal to me, not to Knux. They’ll protect you – take you back to the station. Tell them that you’re my old lady, and you’ll be fine. I’ll find you there.”

  After his instructions, he takes a deep breath and attempts to hand the gun back to me. I nod to myself as I take the gun and walk it over towards the wooden and glass coffee table in the middle of the living room.

  Turning back to him, I explain, “I know how to shoot. Diesel. My dad taught me years ago. He taught Tyler too. I don’t know if he’s dangerous, but you should know—”

  “I know about your brother. I’ve prepared for that too.” He opens up his jacket. Tucked away near his armpit is a holster with an even smaller handgun hidden in the shadows. “I’m not going to use it though. I’m gonna bring the fucking fool back alive if it’s the last thing I do.”

  He’s almost out the door before I can manage to ask, “Why? Why are you doing this, Diesel? Why are you trying to save my family?”

  “I’m not trying to save Tyler, Blanche. I’m going to bring him back and kill him myself. That’s all you need to know.” He slams the door behind him, and I watch through the thin drapes as he walks the backway through the porch and towards the parking lot.

  The apartment grows silent again, except for the hum of the appliances and the beating of my heart. I turn off the lights in the living room and crawl onto the oversized leather couch with my legs curled up towards my stomach. It isn’t my home. It isn’t my brother’s home either. But no matter how much I want to run out of here screaming or use my phone to call my family for help, I know that I have no other option but to trust Diesel and his promise to keep me out of harm’s way.

  Chapter Eight

  Diesel

  “I –I.” Ken’s voice wobbles. “I h-haven’t s-seen him, Di-iesel.”

  “You’re a lying sack of shit, Ken, you know that? You’re as lousy as a fucking cockroach. And do you know what I do with cockroaches like you? I fucking squish them until they’re little brown marks on the bottom of my boots. You want me to do that to you? You want to be the thing I scrape off my shoes?”

  “No, no, no!” he shouts as I push his back hard against the wall. My hands wrap tightly around the collar of his blue work shirt, and I use my thumbs to press right into his jugular. “Please, Diesel. You gotta believe me. We’ve been working together for two, uh, three years now! I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  “Then why you telling me you haven’t seen this kid Tyler around, huh? I got word from your pal, Donovan, that he came through here a week ago to pick up his bike from your shop. In fact, Donovan saw you shake his fucking hand when the boy passed you some cash for the deal. He said he’d swear on his life that it was Tyler in this picture.”

  I press the wrinkled and tattered picture directly in his pudgy, quivering face. Two months’ worth of use has worn the photo down. I should get a replacement, but it’s the only picture I got. Blanche was not too happy to give this one up in the first place. She’d be pissed to find out I’ve wrecked her copy – not that I care about how she feels about it. After all, I’m the one doing her a damn favor by trying to find out what the fuck happened to her missing brother.

  “Answer me!” I snarl out, back in the moment again. I feel the old man practically melt in my hands like warm putty. He’s going to talk. All of them have talked eventually.

  He looks around his abandoned garage. All his customers cleared out when they saw me coming knife in hand. There’s no one here to help him, let alone watch as I gut the guy from hip to armpit, and he knows it too. He only has one choice but to leak the information he’s holding back.

  “I saw him, okay?” he spits out. “He did come in and get his bike – handed me a wad of cash and made me swear I wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. He specifically said not to mention a word to any of the Bonebags or the Red Roses.”

  “Red Roses?” My interest is piqued. The rumor’s been that Tyler was involved with the newest club on the block but, until now, the name hasn’t come up while I’ve been investigating. “Why would Tyler say not to speak to the Red Roses?”

  “I don’t know, man. All I wanted was the money? You want that? I got it in my safe. I can go get—”

  “I don’t need your fucking money. I need the boy. What else did he say to you?”

  Ken looks a little more comfortable now that I’ve taken money off the table. So many slimeballs care just for the cash, but it’s the last thing I need. The club’s been paying me well. They give me a living stipend for the hours I put in, and they see that my rent and bar tabs are all paid on time.

  But I’ve also been flushed with it since my dad died and left me with the lump sum from his bank accounts. I refuse to touch it though. Offering it up for Tyler’s safety was the first time I actually thought of a purpose for it.

  “He, uh, he didn’t say much, Diesel. He looked upset – pissed off or something. He wanted his bike, and he didn’t care that there was still work to be done on it. I told him that he was lucky if it would get him down the block, and he said something about how that wouldn’t be important.”

  “So he’s local? He hasn’t skipped town?” I ask, stunned that Tyler wouldn’t be in Mexico or Canada by now. Only a fucking fool would be in California where the clubs could easily find him. But given that he decided to run out in the first place, I know I’m not dealing with an Einstein here.

  “Tyler didn’t give me anything else but that. When he came here, I think he took the bus – the number seven route. When he left, he turned west to the highway exit. That’s all I’ve seen or heard from him.”

  Ken pats my hand gently, reminding me that I still got a ti
ght grip right at the base of his neck. I release him, letting him fall towards the ground in a heap. I turn slightly as he composes himself and stands to his feet.

  I ask one more time, “And that’s it. That’s all you know? He didn’t have anything on him, anything that was out of place?”

  “He wasn’t wearing his club jacket, if that’s what you mean. Didn’t have anything on but a T-shirt and some ripped up jeans. Don’t suppose that means anything. He was carrying a black canvas backpack too – looked kind of heavy, but I didn’t get a chance to look inside. He had the cash in his back pocket.”

  “Fine. Fine,” I murmur as I try to take it all in.

  Tyler was wearing that outfit when he left the house – at least from what I remember. And no one rides with their club jacket when they’re out of territory, so that’s not unusual at all. The backpack could mean he is escaping, but I guessed that the night of the incident. All signs are pointing to him hiding out somewhere close, in California, with his bike. Without many friends and allies, he shouldn’t be this damn hard to find unless I’m missing something.