I have to trust in somebody sometime, and even with my insecurities, I know Diesel’s my somebody.
“Left your phone in the truck. Amber called looking for an update on her boy. Guess we were wrong expecting Rig to call her right away, because she hasn’t heard from him yet.” His tone is emotionless, as are his eyes, which is starting to scare me. Calling to tell Amber her son is in danger was the hardest call I’ve ever had to make. I deliver bad news to people about their loved ones all the time. It’s just part of my job. Sometimes it’s confirmation of the affair they suspected their spouse was having. Sometimes it’s tracking down their college-aged kid only to find them strung out in a crack den across town. It’s rarely good news—like the spouse took a second job to pay for IVF treatments or some shit like that. The college-aged kids are never just studying in their dorm room and forgot to call home. Sometimes the relationship is beyond saving, and they call because they put up bail for their loved one and the asshole skipped town on them. People don’t call me because everything is right in their world. They only call me when not calling me ends with someone in prison or the morgue.
“I should call her,” I say and blow out a frustrated breath. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through. I’m scared half to death that Zander’s going to say or do something that tips Rig off to the fact that he knows they’re not on a bonding trip.
“Don’t bother. I calmed her down. Told her you’re making sure everybody knows the name Zander Wallace.”
Oh shit.
It’s just the panic setting in, but suddenly my chest is tight and I’m struggling to breathe. I should have told him sooner. I should have said something. I just . . . just didn’t want a reasonably shitty day to get even shittier.
“Yeah,” he says in a clipped tone, his eyes finally settling on mine. “I never thought to ask who Zander’s dad is. Didn’t think it was important.”
“I was going to tell you.” My voice shakes and for good reason. Working on finding Rig is bad enough, but this is a whole different level of subterfuge. If only he’d let me explain, I can make him see where I was coming from.
“When! When were you going to fucking tell me my brother’s got a kid out there he doesn’t fucking know about!” He’s screaming, and even though he’s formed the words like a question, I know better. He doesn’t really want me to speak. Veins pop out of his neck and his forehead. He’s jabbing his pointer finger in my direction, and the way his eyes and mouth recoil as he looks at me, I can’t help but feel his disgust wash over me.
“I’ve dedicated my fucking life to my patch. I put it before myself and my family—ready to ride and die protecting what this stands for,” he shouts as he angrily hits himself in his chest over the patches on his cut that rest above his heart and tell the world he belongs to the Fort Bragg Forsaken.
“I never have to watch my own back because I have nine other men watching it for me. I got a nickel stretch in Lompoc under my belt, barely any formal education, and a workable skillset that begins and ends with fucking people up—now you gonna tell me to calm down knowing all I got to lose if shit goes south?”
“I should have told you,” I say. It’s not like I called him and asked for his help. Like everything with us, he just jumped right in, and I was too chicken shit to tell him what we were really getting into.
“Zander St—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“I’m sorry!”
He paces the small room, muttering curse words to himself and finally stopping in front of the open bathroom door. The cheap hollow door bows slightly under the strength of Diesel’s fist hitting it. I take a deep breath and hope he calms down soon. I knew it was going to be ugly when Diesel found out who Zander’s dad is. It was always going to come out eventually. I told Amber that years ago. I think both of us were waiting for the floor to fall out from under us before we had to really deal with the choices we made all those years ago.
Diesel hits the door again, much more violently this time. I’ve seen enough action to not be too surprised by the outburst. Next he’ll upgrade to kicking the door in.
For fuck sake.
“The kid is fourteen,” Diesel hisses without looking my direction. “You got so many daddy issues you don’t think my boy has a right to know he’s got a fucking son?”
“It’s not like that, D. This isn’t my story to tell, it’s Amber’s, but I’ll give you what I can when you’re ready to listen.”
“Thirty hours on the road and you don’t say shit, but now you’re ready to talk, Elysia?”