Sinner's Revenge (Sinner's Creed MC #2)(78)

*

With our mission accomplished, there is nothing left for us to do here, so we head back to Hillsborough. The drive is long and silent. Back at my house, the only good-bye she offers me is a promising look that tells me she will see me again soon.

Rookie and I fly back to Jackpot, where Carrie meets us at the airport. They’ve been without each other for weeks, so I give Rookie and Carrie some time alone and tell them I’ll catch a cab back to the bar. I feel envy at the way Carrie looks at him with a passion in her eyes that transforms Rookie from a one-percenter to nothing but her man.

What I would give to have that same kind of relationship with Diem. But that’s not possible for people like us. At least not in this life.


*

Two days later, I’m on the porch at Dirk’s house when I receive a call from an unknown number. “Yeah?”

“It’s Dorian,” the gruff voice announces, and my heart kicks into overdrive as my mind immediately starts thinking the worst. The worst being, was something wrong with Diem? “From here on out, I don’t want Diem going anywhere without you.” The command is not negotiable. But I wasn’t planning to argue.

“Done,” I say, already walking inside to pack my bags.

“Keep her in your sights at all times. I don’t have to tell you your fate if you defy me.” His thick accent makes me think of a movie I saw once where the don told the man that he would be swimming with the fishes. I start to make a joke about it, but think better of it.

“I understand. Is there something I should be concerned about?” I shouldn’t have asked. If he’d wanted me to know, he’d have told me.

“There are always concerns in this business.” He hangs up, not offering me anything else.

I call Diem, and my heart rate spikes when she doesn’t answer. Dialing again, she answers on the second ring, snapping in my ear. “What?”

“Why didn’t you answer the first time?” I snap back, throwing shit in my bag with a little more force than necessary.

“Because I’m busy. What do you want, Shady?” She sounds aggravated. I can hear men around her talking, their accents thick and some even speaking in a different language.

“Business meeting stressing you out, pretty girl?” I ask, lowering my tone.

She sighs, a sure sign that she is overworked and exhausted. “You have no idea,” she mumbles into the phone.

“Well, I got a call from your daddy. He wants me to come babysit.”

“I know,” she says, unaffected by my snarky comeback. “I had to endure his wrath because I didn’t keep you with me after he told me to. I guess he figured he’d pull rank on me.”

“He did. You okay with that?” I ask, not that her answer will matter either way. I don’t want to swim with the fishes. And I miss her.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope.”

I can feel her smile through the phone. “Well, when will you be here? I miss ordering you around.” I know she misses me too, even though she refuses to admit it.

“I’m flying out in an hour. I’ll be there by dark.” Hanging up, I throw my bags over my shoulder, locking up Dirk’s house behind me. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to say it’s mine. And I’ll be able to share it with Diem. But as I mount my bike that rational side of my brain reminds me that will never happen.


*

Clark picks me up from the airport in Concord. If he’s here to get me, then I know that wherever Diem is, she’s safe. He greets me with a nod, and I waste no time picking his brain for information.

“How is she?”

He takes a moment to find the right words to say before answering my question. “She’s fine.”

I smirk. “Are those her words or yours?”

“Hers,” he answers shortly.

“Do you believe her?” I ask, lighting a smoke. I offer one to him but he refuses.

“What I believe is irrelevant.”

I shake my head, ready to cut through this Mafia loyalty bullshit. “It’s relevant to me. I want the truth, Clark. Your truth. It goes no further than the two of us.”

Cutting his eyes at me, he gives me a long hard look before glancing at the dash. I follow his gaze to the intercom system that is recording every word we say. With a push of a few buttons, I disable it. “There. Now talk.”

“She’s buckling under the pressure,” he starts, throwing his sunglasses on the dash and dragging a hand down his face. Damn, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. “Ever since she took over, Dorian’s been testing her. He wants her to appear ruthless so nobody questions her authority. And to do that, she’s been doing nothing but killing since she got into this. Every time she pulls the trigger, I see a little piece of her die.”

There is no denying the anger in his voice. He’s pissed at how Dorian is handling things, and even more pissed that he can’t do anything about it.

“You can’t pull the trigger for her?” I ask, knowing that like me, killing comes second nature to a man like him.

He shakes his head. “He wants her to do it. Like she has something to prove. She doesn’t have shit to prove. She is Diem Demopolous. The Mafiusa. Daughter of Dorian. The underboss. That is proof in itself.” His Greek accent thickens with the rise of his temper. “I do not agree with Dorian, but he is my don and I stand behind him. But Diem.” He lets out a breath. “She is better than this. Better than us.” He looks over at me, letting me know that I’m in that category.