Sinner's Revenge (Sinner's Creed MC #2)(40)
She notices the flash of heat in my eyes, and it feels like someone dashed it with cold water when I watch that wicked smile creep across her face. I already know what’s coming, and I start shaking my head in protest.
“Welcome to locker 8794,” she says, holding her arms out and looking around for emphasis. “Where no other man has gone before.”
*
My phone rings in the early hours of the morning waking me. I untangle myself from Diem and reach over to the nightstand, hitting things until I find it.
“Yeah?” I say gruffly.
“Get up. Meet me at my house. I have something for you.” Rookie hangs up in my ear and I slide quietly out of bed. I make minimal noise getting dressed and grabbing my duffel, but Diem speaks to me before I can make a clean getaway.
“You coming back?” she asks sleepily. She’s most beautiful and vulnerable this time of day—sleepy and naked and tangled in my sheets. My very expensive sheets.
“Not sure, pretty girl. Stay though. Be here when I get home.” She nods, submitting to my demand before turning over on her stomach. I leave the bedroom quickly, and I don’t look back.
*
Rookie lives about an hour from me. I drive my new truck to his house, getting there as fast as possible. He’s standing outside when I arrive, smoking a cigarette. Rookie is always calm and controlled, so there is no way of knowing if what I’m walking into is bad or really bad. To him, it’s all the same.
He motions for me to follow him and leads me to his shed. Flipping on a light switch, two dead Death Mob members, riddled in bullet holes, lay on the floor. Next to a woman.
“Who’s she?” I ask, pointing to the half-naked woman.
“Collateral damage,” he says, lighting another cigarette.
“I don’t like collateral damage.” My temper is rising as I look at the young woman who Rookie has been kind enough to turn faceup and cover with a sheet.
“Yeah? Me neither. But they killed her, so I killed them. I figured I better take them all.”
“Why did they kill her?”
“Don’t think they meant to. She was standing across the street when they shot. They missed me. But they got her. Right in the heart.”
“Fuuuuckkk.” I run my hands through my hair. “What happened?”
“Said they recognized me. From Houston. They’re from the town just up the road, Shady. I was out getting shit for Carrie and they just confronted me. You think they’re onto us?”
I shake my head, but I’m still unsure. “Nah. Just coincidence. You know her name?” He hands me her purse and I find a driver’s license with her address and name. “Anyone else see you?”
“Nobody that I know of. But I was wearing black and it was dark so even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to make me out.”
I nod, putting my hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “It’s all right.” He just shrugs. Unaffected on the outside, but something tells me he’s struggling on the inside. “Get rid of them. I’ll call Tank to take care of her. She deserves a proper burial and her family deserves some kind of explanation.” It wouldn’t be the truth, but it would give them closure.
I put in the call to Tank, who shows up an hour later. He assures me he can handle it with no problems. I trust that he will. We burn the cuts at Rookie’s house, and the sun is up when I finally make my way back home. My phone flashes with a text from Diem.
See you around.
And just like that, my day got even shittier.
14
“I’M GOING TO be staying the next few weeks with you,” Diem informs me the next weekend. We’re in my recliner, watching westerns, and she’s wearing my shirt.
“You are?” I ask, unable to drown the happiness that is bubbling in my gut. I hate the feeling.
“I’m getting some home improvements done. Someone told me a couple of weeks ago that my house pretty much looks like shit.”
“Whoever they are sounds like a real douche bag.”
“Yeah, he is.”
This is how all conversations seem to go between me and Diem. There is no normal everyday talk. No how are yous, or was your day goods or can I get you anythings. We argue over everything. We call each other names. I hate her and she hates me. We f*ck like wild rabbits and each time is better than the last. I like it this way. So does she.
This week will be no different. I’m sure of it.
*
“I need Carrie’s number,” she tells me on Monday. I’m at the table, pretending to work on my laptop. When what I’m really doing is playing a game of Solitaire—that she just rudely interrupted.
“For what?”
“Because I want to ask her something.”
“She’s not your friend, you know. You have no friends. Nobody likes you.”
“Give me the number,” she demands, but I don’t give out my friend’s numbers. So I call and give Carrie hers.
Thirty minutes later, Diem informs me that we are going to see a band in Concord tonight. She’s already confirmed it with Rookie, or Joe as she knows him, and Carrie and I don’t like being the fourth f*cking wheel. So I call Rookie and chew his ass for making plans without me. He blames Carrie, like the * he is, because he knows I could never be mad at her.