Diesel (Dark Falcons Book 4) Read online

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  Diesel

  Dark Falcons

  Book 4

  Copyright Em Petrova 2021

  Ebook Edition

  Electronic book publication 2021

  Cover Art by Em Petrova

  All rights reserved. Any violation of this will be prosecuted by the law.

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  More in this series:

  DIXON

  TANK

  PATRIOT

  DIESEL

  BLADE

  RIO

  A woman in peril. A man willing to ride through the flames for her.

  Bad ass member of the Dark Falcons Motorcycle Club, Diesel, doesn’t think anything could be worse than the sweet and caring angel who tumbled into his life walking out on him—but he’s wrong. Learning she’s embroiled in a dark and criminal game and needs his help threatens to send him over the edge.

  Loyal to her family to the bitter end, Selena answers a cry to help her sister—then finds her world ripped to shreds. Losing Diesel is the worst part. Their fleeting nights of passion seem like a dream, and just when she’s about to give up all hope…

  Diesel will challenge any man who tries to stand in his way of reaching Selena. He may not know a lot about love, but he does understand the word revenge.

  Diesel

  by

  Em Petrova

  Prologue

  The minute Judd spotted Selena, he knew something was wrong. Off.

  Her shoulders slumped, and some of the life seemed to have drained out of her. He pulled away from where he leaned against his Harley and ate up the space between them with long strides.

  When she looked up and spotted him, even Selena’s usual bright smile was missing. As he approached, though, she conjured one. He couldn’t help but feel her expression was more grimace than happy to see him.

  “What happened?” he asked without preamble. He looked past her to the men filing out of the office building where she worked. The government office had more men than women working there, and Selena told him on a regular basis how imbalanced everything was.

  If it was one thing Judd knew—from high school football to his current position running a diesel mechanics shop—it was that men were assholes. As one exited and shot a sneer at Selena, Judd clenched his fists.

  “What the hell are you lookin’ at, dickhead?” he called out to the guy in dorky loafers with little tassels on them and a dweeby sweater.

  “Oh my God!” Selena grabbed Judd by the arm and towed him away from the building, through the parking lot to his bike. “I have to work with these people. You can’t call them names!”

  “Shit. You’re right. I’m sorry, honey. But I can’t allow them to think they’re better than you are.”

  “Well, I didn’t get the promotion, so it doesn’t matter, does it?”

  He studied her beautiful face and the devastation written there. “Fuck. That’s not right. You went above and beyond.”

  “It’s more of a popularity contest. What head of department likes who best.” She tried to wave it away with a simple explanation, but he knew better.

  “It’s because you’re a woman, isn’t it?”

  She met his stare. The Tennessee breeze ruffled her warm brown hair and sent a lock skittering over her cheek. She hooked a finger in the tendril and directed it away from her face. “Please let it drop, Diesel.”

  Her use of his nickname threw him. She didn’t always call him by his Christian name of Judd, but when she didn’t, it was typically when they were at the motorcycle club and with his brothers, the Dark Falcons.

  He clenched his jaw but forced his fists to loosen. “I won’t allow you to be trampled on here by a bunch of bastards who believe they’re better than you because they have a set of nuts swinging between their legs.”

  “Diesel. Please don’t. I’ll handle the situation. Your reaction is the reason I didn’t want to tell you at all. Why are you here, anyway?”

  “I was coming to surprise you.” Her tone bugged him—a lot. Stress or not, she didn’t sound happy to see him.

  Her shoulders slumped further. “Oh. Well, thank you for the surprise.”

  “I hoped you’d go for a ride with me. We can return for your car.”

  Her deep, expressive blue eyes slipped to his Harley and back to him. “That sounds nice.”

  He nodded and handed her a helmet. When they were both settled with her thighs wrapped around his hips and her arms crossed over his waist, they had nothing but the open road before them.

  While he wanted to take out his frustration and anger at what just passed between them, and the fact that his woman had been hurt by being passed up—again—for a well-deserved promotion, he let the open road work to relax him.

  One of his and Selena’s favorite spots to spend time was at a local lookout. In the five months they’d been seeing each other, he knew that the stunning view of the Smoky Mountains would soothe her too. Plus, he’d brought her favorite wine and sandwich from the local deli.

  He slowed his bike as they approached the spot. A few picnic tables dotted the area, but nobody occupied them. Good—he wanted to be alone with Selena.

  After parking, he cut the engine. She dismounted from the bike first, and he followed and moved to pull the wine and sandwiches from his pack behind the seat.

  She watched this wordlessly, but her face softened as she saw the bag with the deli logo. He slashed a grin her way and raised the bottle of wine in his grip. “I thought we’d have dinner and watch the sunset.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  They moved to the nearest picnic table and settled with the wine and food. He opened the wine by producing a corkscrew from his rear pocket. Selena’s eyes sparkled. “You came prepared.”

  “That’s the kinda guy I am.” He shrugged.

  “I know. You always have a solution and a plan.”

  Across the table from her, he met her gaze. “That’s why it pisses me off so much that those guys treat you that way at work. You deserve better, Selena.”

  She looked down at the table. “I don’t want to talk about it, Judd.”

  “You want me to wait for that department head and have a talk with him—”

  She tossed down her sandwich. “No! Do not do that. You’ll mess things up for me.”

  “Why do you work at a place that doesn’t appreciate your efforts anyway?”

  Her brows shot up and her eyes were wide. “Where do you expect me to work?”

  “Don’t work at all. I make enough for both of us.”

  She went dead still. Even the breeze seemed to stop toying with her hair. One look into her eyes and he knew he’d fucked up. Stuck his foot in his mouth by suggesting she allow him to take care of her rather than him supporting her the way she needed.

  “Selena,” he began.

  She jumped up. “Take me back to my car, Judd.”

  “You know I respect your work.”

  “Do you?” She glared. “It doesn’t sound like it. It sounds as if you want me to give up everything I love. All my goals I’ve set for myself.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I meant—”

  “Why don’t I do your sink full of
dishes and have a few of your babies too?” She took off walking to his bike.

  “Dammit! Selena, wait.” He grabbed the sandwiches and wine and dumped all of it into the nearest trash can before catching up to her. She was already seated on the bike with her helmet on.

  He reached for the strap to pull it off so they could talk. But she jerked her head away.

  “This isn’t the old days when women stay home to support their man, with nothing of their own to care about. I’m not one of those honeys at the club!”

  His temper ruffled. “Is that what you think I’m looking for? A honey?” The women who hung out at the Dark Falcons clubhouse cooked and cleaned for them, sure. But he’d never been involved with one and wanted more depth to his woman than someone who was willing to kiss up in exchange for a patch that declared she belonged to a club member.

  “When you say I should quit the job I love and let you take care of me, it sounds like that’s what you’re looking for.”

  He spread his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but it hit him that maybe he did want her to quit and be by his side. Maybe he was a selfish motherfucker because he didn’t want her working late hours or attending conferences with those jerk men who didn’t view her as anything but a piece of ass.

  With those thoughts circling his head like a cyclone, what else was there to say? He obviously needed to get his head on straight before he said something else that damaged their relationship and insulted her.

  “Take me to my car,” she said quietly. “Please.”

  What choice did he have? He swung his leg over the bike and pointed it down the road.

  Chapter One

  Judd parked his Harley in front of the long brick-fronted roadside motel and cut the engine. One look at the place screamed bedbugs, but he didn’t give a damn.

  It was unlikely he’d sleep anyway—he just needed a place to escape to.

  His hometown of Mersey, Tennessee had felt too constricting, the weight of the motorcycle club responsibilities and his friends there pressing down on him this past month since his girl walked out of his life without so much as a goodbye, fuck you or have a good life. She simply disappeared.

  He sat there on his bike for a moment, the warm night air smelling faintly of garbage from a nearby dumpster. He should have gone into the Smoky Mountains instead, but too late now. He was bone-weary and sick of thinking.

  Swinging his leg off his bike, he removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm as he approached the motel entrance. Mosquitoes buzzed about his face, and he swatted them, ducked under the doorway and stopped in front of an outdated counter paneled with cheap wood.

  The guy seated there looked up as if surprised to see a customer. No wonder, judging by the looks of this place. Smarter people continued down the road to the ritzier chain hotels.

  “Need a room,” Judd said.

  “Sixty bucks.”

  “For this place?” He shook his head but pulled out his wallet and removed three twenties. He dropped them onto the counter. The guy didn’t look at him when he slid the money into a drawer and handed him a key on a plastic ring that looked as if somebody’s dog had chewed it.

  “Thanks. Is there a vending machine?”

  “Around the corner of the building by the dumpster.”

  Fantastic.

  Judd walked out, ducking under the frame again. Most doorframes accommodated his six-five height, but this one was unusually short. The place was probably built before building codes were the norm.

  Outside, he checked that nobody was messing with his bike and located the vending machine. The stench coming from the dumpster could be rotting meat or a dead body—he didn’t want to know. He stuffed some bills into the vending machine and took two sodas and a bag of chips to his room at the opposite end of the motel.

  When he opened the door of number eight, he hardly gave a damn anymore. He only wanted to sink down in a chair and stop thinking for a while. His MC president would be questioning his whereabouts come morning, when Judd was supposed to check in with Dixon and give him the low-down on the next big ride he’d organized, a ride for charity with the club from the neighboring town.

  To say he was distracted would be an understatement. The minute Selena took off, he struggled to think or even breathe.

  He popped the top of his soda and drank while his mind flooded with their last moments together. The argument. Okay, the fight.

  He’d fucked up good this time. Evidently, his words exposed enough about his archaic state of mind and selfish leanings to send her running.

  But he didn’t mean it. He was proud of Selena’s achievements. How she’d worked her way up the chain of command in the government office to even be considered for a promotion. He only experienced a heavy case of mouth diarrhea and allowed his inner protector to speak out before he thought about his words.

  Now he realized his suggestion insulted her, stifled her and drove her away. Since that night, she hadn’t taken a single call from him, either at her office or on her cell phone. All his calls went to voicemail. After a week, he gave up.

  He slammed the empty soda can on the small, dirty, wobbly-legged table. He needed something harder.

  Across the street stood an equally rundown bar, and he pocketed the room key before heading over there. Accustomed to the nicer atmosphere of The Painted Pig back home, this bar made him cringe a bit and wonder if he’d get a disease off a barstool. Two ladies at the end of the bar leered at him and swirled their straws in some murky-looking alcoholic drink.

  “What can I get ya, sugar?” the bartender asked.

  He named a specific beer in a bottle in order to avoid a dirty glass. He was no prude—he worked with his hands repairing diesel trucks for a living—but places such as this gave him the creeps.

  At least nobody knew him here. At home, the brothers in the MC took one look at him and knew something was off. Their instincts were better than any woman he’d ever known.

  The thought almost brought a chuckle to his lips as he lifted his beer and swigged. Damn, he needed more of that—worrying about the club, his brothers and the next ride that would bring in money for the club and charities. To hell with women who took off because of one argument without even letting him explain or apologize.

  He suspected Selena had gone to stay with her sister. After swinging by her place a few times and seeing she wasn’t home, he guessed she was truly avoiding him.

  Who could blame her, after he went Neanderthal and basically said she should stay home and give up her dreams.

  He’d been hanging with some of those guys at the club too long. The ‘honeys’, as the guys liked to call them, hung around the club just waiting for a man to support them and make them their ‘old ladies.’

  He knew when he started dating Selena that she’d never be that woman. She had too much going for her, a strong mind and a stronger will.

  And Christ, her beauty could knock a man flat. Warm brown hair with streaks of mahogany and snapping blue eyes, curves as twisty as the road leading out of Mersey and into the Smokies…

  His guts gripped at the memory of her straddling him. Sliding down over his cock. The expression in her eyes one of burning lust—and he’d convinced himself, it was more than lust.

  What kind of dumb fucker sits and broods in his beer over a woman who left a month ago?

  Dixon, Tank and Patriot would laugh at him. Blade would never let him live it down if he knew.

  Though he suspected they all did know and weren’t saying. They knew when to leave a guy alone and when to intervene.

  “Hey, can I get a beer or are you too busy?” The grumbled demand from a few stools away brought Judd’s head up.

  He pierced the guy in his gaze, seeing slack jaw and reddened nose from imbibing too much.

  The bartender shook her head. “I can’t serve you anymore, Dwight. You know the rules. I don’t want to lose my job.”

  The woman stood across the bar from the aging drunk and gave him a l
ook of sympathy, whether for the fact that he’d reached his limit or that he had no better place to be than on this barstool.

  He slammed his glass on the surface. “Whiskey. Now, woman.”

  She shifted her gaze away from him as if expecting an explosion. Judd waited for it—he’d helped out the bouncer at The Painted Pig plenty of times by heaving a hothead or two out the front door into the gravel parking lot, and he’d do the same here. He set down his beer and waited.

  Then it came—the man lurched across the bar and grabbed the bartender by the hair. She screamed, and Judd launched to his feet. In one step he reached the guy, ripped him off his stool and hurled him to the grubby floor.

  “Get the hell outta here, you drunk,” he spat out in his voice of deadly calm that typically got his point across.

  The man, for all his alcohol consumption, bounced to his feet and took a swing at Judd. He dodged it and jabbed a right hook at the man’s jaw, rocking his head.

  His eyes rolled up. He started to tip backward.

  When he hit the floor, nobody attempted to cushion his fall. Toes up, he lay there knocked out.

  Pain shot through Judd’s hand—he knew better than to aim for the bony parts.

  He slanted a look at the bartender, who stared with wide eyes. “You all right?” he asked her.

  She nodded.

  “I’ll help him outside.” Without a word, he reached for his wallet to pay for the beer.

  She waved a hand. “On the house. Thank you.”

  He gave a nod, grabbed the guy by the boots and dragged him out the door, where he left him beside a cracked flowerpot overflowing with cigarette butts. He continued on across the road to his motel room.

  After the door closed, he locked it and dropped to the edge of the sagging mattress. Damn, this wasn’t his idea of unwinding.

  He took his ice bucket outside and filled it, then returned to the room and sank his sore knuckles into the ice. He let out a heavy sigh and out of habit glanced at the screen of his phone.