Page 72

“Ah,” I’m not sure what to say. It’s messed up. But also, an intriguing offer. “I mean, we could do it a little bit…”

“Or a lotta bit. Up to you. I have other options. Less invasive, more invasive,” she waves a hand around. “Depends on how much we wanna hurt him.” She peers at me for a moment. “I’m betting a lot.”

“But not before we’ve had a little chat with him and you’ve put the baby down.” Rhodie’s gruff voice cuts through the air.

“Hey, what are you doing here? It’s girls only.”

“Babe, you messaged everyone to be here at this time.” Rhodie presses a kiss to her head while Chewy grumbles about hormones messing up her messaging.

The room fills with MC members and their women, everyone gathering behind me respectfully. Miles steps up to my right, with Marx on my left.

“You all good if we ask him a few questions?”

I tilt my head back, looking at Marx. “Why are you asking me? You’re the boss.”

“True. But you’ll be the one who decides how he dies. It’s only fair.”

I stare at him, speechless. For a long time I’ve fantasized about ending Diesel. Moreso in recent times because the pure rage that swirls inside me when I think of those wasted years with him eats at me. But in that one sentence I am faced with my fantasies perhaps becoming a reality and that’s a fucking huge thing to wrap my head around.

“Think about it. You can have as little or as much input into that as you like, sweetheart. You don’t have to lift a finger. I will do it for you,” Miles whispers in my ear before pressing a tender kiss to the side of my head.

“Wake him up,” Marx demands.

Pops comes out of nowhere in a hazmat suit carrying a bucket of something. Not sure what it is but I know it isn’t water the moment it touches Diesel’s skin and he comes awake screaming blue murder.

“That’s an extreme reaction,” Mira says, frowning.

“That’s because it’s lemon juice,” Pops crows, throwing more on Diesel’s burnt legs.

“Oh that makes sense.” Mira perkily agrees, pulling a notepad and pencil from her bra.

“You people are all nuts,” Grind mutters and we all ignore him.

I mean, like always attracts like. I’m just thankful I found my people.

“Do you know who I am?” Marx demands, getting into Diesel’s face.

“Yeah, I know who you are.” Diesel spits blood onto the floor, slumping down in the chair he’s been tied to. This is where he’ll be cooperative before he tries to sell his skills.

“Good. So you know that you fucked with the wrong MC when you rode into Roxburgh and decided to spread your dirty shit there and into my town.” Diesel stares at Marx, but doesn’t say a word. Marx stares him down until Diesel lowers his gaze. Pussy. “Your operation is gone. Your men, gone. You’ll be gone soon enough. First, I need answers.”

Diesel looks around the room, then smiles up at Marx. Here it comes. “Look man, I don’t know what to tell ya. But I mean, if I do know anything, I’m willing to tell you but it’ll be for a price.”

Marx raises that damn brow that seems to run through their family. “How much?”

“Oh, not much. I mean, what’s the price of freedom?” Diesel says with a smarmy grin, causing my eyes to roll.

“Willa, how much do you think freedom costs?” Miles asks, eyes on Diesel.

“It’s pretty damn priceless from where I’m standing.”

Diesel’s gaze darts from me, to Miles, and I know when he clocks it. I may not be wearing his patch, but Diesel is nothing if not perceptive.

“I’ll give you a divorce.” His eyes dart back to Marx. “I answer your questions and give Willa a divorce, you let me live.”

Marx smiles a shark-like grin, “How often do you work for Thompson?”

Diesel hesitates a moment. Weird. “Not as often as you think.”