Drifter (MC Sinners Next Generation #2) Read online

  It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever witnessed and I never want it to end.

  His friends, who are acting like they’ve never heard him laugh, are just staring at him like they’ve seen a ghost. Diesel stands, spinning around and grabbing my face in his hands, a big and beautiful smile across his face. He leans down and smashes his lips against mine in a hard, quick kiss. “Never change, Killer,” he says, snatching the bag from my hands and walking out of the cafeteria.

  I’m stuck frozen to the ground, blinking and trying to work out what the hell just happened. I study everyone around me and see that it isn’t just Diesel’s friends who have shocked looks on their faces—it’s the entire cafeteria. Every person is staring, clearly having seen the entire scene unfold. Well then, that certainly wasn’t how I expected that to go.

  “Did,” Taj begins, then stares at the empty space Diesel was just in. “Did he just . . . laugh?”

  “I . . . yes,” I say, softly.

  “I’ve never heard him laugh.”

  “Seems the entire cafeteria feels the same.”

  Taj looks around, then tugs my hand, and we leave.

  “Do you think he’s losing it?” Taj asks.

  I snort. “No. Why?”

  “He laughed.”

  “People laugh all the time.”

  Taj shakes his head. “Not Diesel. Did it sound weird to you?”

  “Weird how?”

  “You know, like a hysterical hyena laugh.”

  I giggle. “He’s not going crazy, Taj.”

  “You sure about that?”

  I hook my arm through his. “I’m sure.”

  This has just become the best day of my life.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “How’s school goin’?” Dad asks over the phone two days later.

  I shrug, even though he clearly can’t see it. “It’s good.”

  “You been out and about much since the last incident?”

  “Yeah, Dad. Everything is okay now. How’s Mom?”

  “Fine, kid.”

  “And you?”

  He chuckles. “Good. Surely we’ve got better things to talk about. Soon we’ll start talkin’ about the weather.”

  I snort. “No thanks.”

  “Then tell me something good.”

  “I’m getting close to having a deposit for my car.”

  He grunts. “No motorbike then?”

  “Daddy . . .”

  He laughs. “Man has to try.”

  “I wouldn’t ride one of those things if you paid me. I run into walls on a bad day—can you imagine what I’d do on one of those?”

  “Good point¸ stick to a car. You goin’ to let me help you pick?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve been driving around your old heap-of-shit for ages. I’m getting something cool and fast.”

  “How about big and slow?”

  “Nope.”

  “Gotta be safe, baby.”

  I grin. “Nope, old man.”

  He sighs. “You’ll be the death of me.”

  “Hey good news. I’ll be home for Mom’s birthday. I got time off. Don’t tell her.”

  “Good to hear. She’ll be happy. Been mopin’ like a sad puppy since you left.”

  I frown. “Poor Mom. Maybe you should take her out on a date or something.”

  “Baby, I don’t need to date her. All she needs is a good—”

  “Do not finish that sentence or I will seriously disown you.”

  He laughs. “Gotta go, kid. Jacks is here.”

  “Say hi for me. Love you.”

  “You too, Mouse.”

  I hang up and smile. Gosh, I miss them all so much.

  My bedroom door flings open and I spin around to see Diesel striding in, two coffees in hand. It’s six at night, so why he has coffee and why he’s rushing into my room is far beyond me.

  “Ah, hi,” I say. “Did I forget something?”

  He thrusts a coffee at me. “Get up. We’re goin’ out.”

  I look down to my pajamas, which I’m already in because I planned on having a quiet night in. With copious amounts of ice cream. Clearly, that’s no longer on the agenda.

  “What for?” I moan, putting the coffee on my bedside table. “I was going to watch movies and eat ice cream.”

  “Now you’re getting up and coming with me.”

  “Why?” I huff, crossing my arms. “Can’t you eat ice cream and watch movies with me?”

  He scowls at me.

  “I liked you better when you were laughing. By the way, I have a few questions about that. One includes your mental health.”

  “Ask later. Get up or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and take you as you are.”

  I glance at my pajamas again. “Do I have to?”

  He takes a step closer. I leap up. “All right! Yeesh, you’re bossy. Where are we going?”

  “Just dress casual but nice.”

  “Diesel,” I warn, pulling out a set of jeans and a halter neck tee.

  “Mercedes,” he counters, crossing his arms.

  “Do you always barge into women’s rooms and demand they get dressed and go out with you?”

  “If I’m in a woman’s room, Killer, I’m fucking them. Think yourself lucky.”

  I scrunch up my nose to hide my blush. “That’s gross. Are you saying I’m not good enough to be fucked in my room?”

  His eyes drop to my breasts when I lift my shirt off and toss it. I’m wearing a bra, thank God, because he looks like he’s about to combust. When I shuffle out of my shorts, his jaw gets tight and he turns around.

  “See?” I protest. “You can’t even look at me. Just say it—I’m unappealing, and that’s why we can only ever be friends.”

  “We’re friends because you’re a pain in my ass that won’t leave.”

  “I beg your pardon, buddy? You came into my room, remember?”

  He grunts.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “And I’m not goin’ to,” he says.

  “Why? You think I can’t handle the truth?”

  He turns and looks back at me. I’m fully dressed now, and he seems relieved by that. “You can handle it; it’s me who can’t. Now hurry up.”

  I wonder what that means? I get no time to answer because he takes my arm and hauls me out of the room.

  Well, I guess we have somewhere to be in a hurry.

  Sounds fun.

  ~*~*~*~

  Until I’m free, I’ll be stuck at sea,

  Like a boat, I float endlessly.

  With no beginning and no end,

  Darkness, my only friend.

  I sit, knees tucked to my chest, on a warm rug in front of a massive fire. There are ten other people, including Diesel, beside me, creating a semi-circle around the main chair where a man is sitting, reading his poem. It’s beautiful, captivating, and inspiring. For the last hour, we’ve sat and listened to people bare their souls with words. Each poem is like seeing behind the mask they carry around each day. It’s seeing the person they are afraid to be.

  The man finishes up reading and Diesel shifts beside me, standing up. I blink and look up at him to see he is walking towards the chair. I thought we just came to listen to poetry and enjoy wine and cheese, but it’s clear to me now that he brought me here to listen to his work. My heart flutters and I lean forward, pressing my chin to my knees and watching as he sits down. He doesn’t look at anyone; he just starts reading in a quiet, husky voice that makes my skin quiver.

  The chains around my heart grow tighter with each day,

  The restriction so strong, it’ll never go away.

  I wish they’d understand the person that’s inside,

  I’m tired of dreaming and a dream—that has already died.

  The lies consume my soul until there is nothing left,

  What will I become if I’m forced to lose my depth?

  I listen to him talk, caught up in
his words. He talks about lies and not knowing; he expresses his desperation to be something different. My heart aches for him because I can hear the passion behind every word. I can hear him screaming to be let free, to understand who he is and what he’s here for. Tears burn under my eyelids by the time he’s finished, but I fight them back, even when he thanks everyone and makes his way back to me.

  He sits down as the next person goes up, and I can’t stop myself from reaching over and taking his hand.

  He lets me, squeezing softly.

  I want him to know I understand, and he does. He knows.

  ~*~*~*~

  “That was really amazing,” I say as we move down the main street later that night, ice creams in our hands.

  “Yeah, I like reading there.”

  I lick my chocolate ice cream. “Do you do it much?”

  He shrugs. “When I can. It’s the only place I can speak my mind freely without judgment.”

  “I’m sad you feel that’s the only place you have to do that.”

  “Well,” he says, taking my hand and crossing the road so we’re in a park. “It’s no longer the only place.”

  He squeezes my hand, and I get his meaning. Me. I’m the other place. He trusts me. He proved that tonight by taking me there. My heart swells with the knowledge that he’s giving me that much of himself.

  “What are your poems about? You talked so much about lies.”

  We find a swing-set and sit on one each. They creak as we force them to move slowly.

  “My mom.”

  “Jaylah?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Jaylah isn’t my birth mother.”

  I go stiff and turn to him. “What?” I rasp.

  He doesn’t look at me; he just stares into the darkness.

  “My dad had a love before Jaylah—my mother, Ingrid. There were big problems with their relationship, though. My dad’s real brother was her first husband, and they basically had an affair while they were married.”

  I gasp. “Mack had an affair with his own brother’s wife.”

  Diesel nods.

  “I’m sketchy on the details, but from what I know my mother wouldn’t leave, and so Dad had enough and ended it. She found out she was pregnant with me but didn’t tell him. I was born, and one night she had a car accident and died. My aunt Tracy, who I haven’t seen since I was a baby, took me on but couldn’t keep me, so she tracked down Mack. Jaylah became his nanny, and that’s how they got together. She adopted me when they got married.”

  “Diesel,” I say, my voice genuinely hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

  “He refuses to talk much about her. Jaylah is the one who has told me most of the stories over the years. I love her like my own mother; she is basically everything a mother needs to be. She just didn’t give birth to me. It’s just . . .” he trails off.

  “You want to know more about your mom.”

  His eyes flicker to me, and he nods.

  “Have you ever looked for her family?”

  Something dark crosses his face.

  “I looked for Aunt Tracy. I have leads, but...I stopped. Dad told me Jaylah shot his brother when he came after her to get back at my dad, so he’s gone.”

  “Jaylah shot Mack’s brother?” I gasp.

  “Yeah, again, details are sketchy as to what really went down, but Dad was grateful to her for doing it. He kidnapped her and from what I know, it wasn’t pretty.”

  “Poor Jaylah.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So have you asked your dad about your mom and how to find out more?”

  “Yeah, and I fucked up a lot by digging.”

  I narrow my eyes. “How do you mean?”

  He looks out into the darkness. “I tracked down some of my mother’s cousins behind their backs about four years ago. They were into bad things. I was so fuckin’ desperate to find out that I allowed myself to be dragged into some bad shit. I...”

  “What?”

  He takes a breath and if I’m not wrong, I’d say it’s shaky. “I got a club member killed.”

  I hold in my gasp, because I know what that would feel like to someone who was raised in a club. I know.

  “Diesel,” I say softly, just letting him know I understand.

  “They were into drugs, guns, things like that. Promised they’d give me all the information I needed if I helped them out. I did and shit got intense. My dad found out, he knew something was off, and they followed me. The deal I was pulling off that night went bad and it turns out the cousins I was working for had a lot of debt. If the club wasn’t there, I’d be dead, but in return one of the members was shot because of me.”

  That’s why it’s been so long since he’s smiled.

  It’s why he doesn’t think he’s good enough.

  It’s why he’s trying to distance himself from the club.

  It suddenly makes sense.

  “You think you’re not good enough to run the club.”

  It’s not a question.

  “I let them down,” he says, his voice hard. “They forgave me, they got it, but I never forgave myself. He had kids...he had a family...”

  He trails off and my heart breaks for him. “You were young and you wanted answers, I’d have done the same.”

  He looks to me. “No baby, you wouldn’t have.”

  My heart flutters and we stare at each other, so much passing between us.

  “You’re not a bad person, Diesel. Bad things happen in life, but you can only learn from them.”

  “I’m not good enough for that club, Mercedes. I can’t be good enough. I want different things. They need to understand that.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly. “I think they do, but it isn’t because you’re not good enough but because you are so much more. Your talent shouldn’t be wasted. Your heart should be let free to expand. You should be able to forgive yourself.”

  His face softens.

  “Come on,” he says quietly, dropping his still untouched ice cream into the trash. “Let’s go home. It’s late.”

  I don’t push any further because he’s opened up enough, and I’m grateful for that. I stand and follow him back to his truck. He takes me home in silence, and when we arrive, I turn to him. “Thank you. That was one of the most awesome things I’ve done.”

  He looks to me. “No problems.”

  I swallow because right now, I’d love nothing more than to kiss him. He looks to my lips and his face tightens, as if he’s having the same thought. “Mercedes,” he says, his voice husky and tight. “Goodnight.”

  I look into his eyes, and I can see he doesn’t want to do this—at least, he doesn’t want to admit he does. Right now, I’ve gotten closer to him than anyone else before—that much is clear. I’m not going to ruin that. No way. Not now.

  “Night, Diesel,” I say softly, climbing out of the car.

  He waits until I’m inside before disappearing into the night.

  I watch him go with a dull ache in my heart.

  I think I’m falling in love with him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Order up!”

  I move to the counter and take the meal that’s ready to be served. I deliver it to the table before rushing around to take more orders. I’m finished for the day, but we’re so busy I decided to stay an extra few hours. I don’t have to and can go at any time, but I’m not going to leave them short-staffed when it’s so busy.

  “You can go, honey,” Caitlyn says, moving towards me with a tray full of coffee. “Bethany will be here in five.”

  I shrug. “I’ll wait until she’s here before leaving.”

  “You’re too good to me.” She smiles, rushing off to work.

  I busy myself for a further five minutes, and am so deep in it that I don’t notice the bell above the door ring until I hear a loud, familiar voice. “You goin’ to come over here and give your old man a hug, or do I gotta come get you?”

  I’ve just put the tray on the counter after serving my last custome
r, so spinning around is easy. And spin I do. I see my dad and Jackson standing just inside the door, looking big, scary, and so familiar my heart aches. I drop my apron and run, full throttle, towards my dad. I throw myself into his arms and he catches me, big arms holding me close. I press my face into his leather jacket and breathe him in. I’ve been super homesick the last week and missing my family like crazy.

  “Daddy,” I croak into his neck, trying to force back the tears.

  “Fuck, you got taller and fuckin’ prettier since I seen you last,” he says when he puts me down and studies me.

  “It’s all this good Denver water,” I joke lightly, then turn to Jackson. “Hey Jacks.”

  He reaches over and practically snatches me into his arms, hugging me tightly. I laugh and hug him back. “Hey pretty girl, long time no see. You gotta come home more.”

  He puts me down and I look at the two of them, but mostly my dad. He looks the same as he always does—a big, muscled bear with brown eyes and blond hair that’s a complete mess. He’s got three-day growth on his chin, and that just makes him look even scarier. Screw it. I press myself into him again, needing to hug him just one more time.

  “Gettin’ extra love today?” he murmurs into my hair. “Everything okay?”

  “I just missed you, is all.”

  “Me too, baby.”

  I pull back. “Right. You two want a coffee?”

  Dad snorts.

  I giggle. “Right, bikers are too cool for coffee shops.”

  “Never said that.” He grins. “But a beer would be better.”

  “I’m finished with my shift,” I say, trailing off suggestively.

  “Beer it is,” Jackson says. “Get your things and we’ll go.”

  “Are you two by yourselves?”

  “Yeah just came to town for business,” Dad says.

  “Right,” I nod. “I’ll get my things.”

  I rush off and grab my bag before heading out front again. Caitlyn takes my arm just as I pass the front counter. “Is that your dad?” she breathes.