Prologue
Diesel
Two years before the story begins — at the first attempted kidnapping of Diesel’s son
“Violet? What are you doing in my office?”
Even as I ask the question, I know. Crusher is at my back; he knows too. Fuck, I think my whole damn club knew, but me. I was blind. Blind to another goddamn piece of ass. So busy sinking into her pussy that I couldn’t see through her lies.
Just like liars do, Violet jumps, slams the drawer on my desk shut—the drawer that was locked when I left it last night—and turns around to look at me. She pastes a smile on her face.
“Sweetheart! I thought you were gone today with Ryan to have that father/son bonding time?”
Sweetheart.
That word from her lips makes me sick. Lips that just last night held my cock, sucking it so fucking good, I swore I’d found heaven. The woman was born to suck cock. I guess that should have clued me in. No one gets that damn good without a lot of practice. I knew she wasn’t completely innocent, but she seemed so bashful that I fucking thought there weren’t many before me.
How the fuck was I to know she had a whole damn army of cocks in that mouth before me?
“Answer the damn question, Violet. What are you doing in my office?”
“Baby—”
“In a room you aren’t supposed to be in—”
“Diesel—”
“In my fucking desk, that I know was locked—”
“If you’d just let me talk, lover, I could explain,” she says.
She tries to look so cool, but she can’t hide the panic on her face, or the desperation bleeding through her voice. She’s scared.
And she should be.
“Can you, Violet? You can explain how you ignored every rule I have in place?”
“Of…Of course I can,” she stutters.
“Good. I want you to explain, Violet. I want you to explain that and while you’re at it, I want you to explain how that bitch of an ex knew exactly where I’d be today with Ryan.”
“Your ex? Why would I know anything about that?” she asks. She starts backing away the minute I walk into my office.
“That’s what I asked myself,” I admit. “Why would you, the sweet little librarian who came to take care of my son, treated him like her own, the woman who I gave my dick to every night and protected—why would she do anything that endangers my son’s wellbeing?”
“I wouldn’t, Diesel. You know how I love that boy?”
My control snaps. It’s not a cognizant thing; I do it without thinking. I grab her, my hand going around her throat—the same throat I kissed as she whispered her lies to me night after night—and I enforce pressure until she’s bent backwards over my desk, her eyes wide open with fear, gasping in alarm, and clawing at my hand to let go.
“He is not that boy, you lying cunt. He’s my son. Mine.”
“Diesel—” she gasps. “Whatever you’re thinking—”
“I’m thinking of the millions of different ways I could kill you for your betrayal.”
“You can’t—”
“I can do anything I fucking want, Violet—if that’s even your real name.”
“Diesel, please…”
“Does this look familiar?" I ask her, finally yanking her burner phone from my back pocket. It’s a cheap flip phone bought at any local two-bit store and so out of date that you still have to go through a million steps just to text the letter A. It’s also one of the easiest to resist tracing—although I’m guessing the bitch knew that well.
She doesn’t say anything, but then, she doesn’t need to. She was panicked before, but now she’s absolutely terrified.
I lean down, my voice going soft—but cold and deadly. It’s nothing like the lover that she’s used to. “You made one fatal mistake, lover,” I tell her, flexing my fingers against her throat. It’d be so damn easy to choke the life out of her. It takes all the willpower I have not to do it. “You counted on Vicky not to be the stupid cunt she’s always been and fuck up. I had a man watching my back. You didn’t plan for that either did you, Violet?”
“I…I…”
I squeeze my hand tighter on her neck, not allowing her to talk.
“Did you really think I’d be stupid enough not to when she’d already tried to get my son once before?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer—simply because she can’t. Right now, she can’t even breathe. I watch as the color leaches from her face, leaving a pale white that’s slowly fading into blue.
It’d be so easy—too easy.
“Crusher.”
“Yeah, Boss-man?”
“Hold the bitch,” I tell him and then, just by the hold from my hand, I pull her up and toss her behind me.
Crusher catches her immediately and I sit on my desk facing them. He subdues her hands behind her back and holds a knife at her throat.
“Not a word from you—or my knife might slip,” he growls. I’ve never been more thankful than I am right at this moment that Crusher decided to leave Kentucky and come be my VP. He’s one of the few that I can trust. That has never been more evident than right now.