Diesel (Dark Falcons Book 4) Page 3

  What if things went sideways and Kenzo got killed by one of the men he sold drugs to? What would happen to her? She could end up in worse hands.

  She also imagined shootouts and the possibility of her getting stuck in the line of fire. Not to mention the very real terror that she’d do something to make Kenzo snap, and he’d go back on his promise to let her stay in Alexus’s stead.

  She stood and went to her closet. Gorgeous gowns and negligees that any woman would drool over hung there, but she wished they would all burn, along with this beautiful mansion and everything in it. Including the owner.

  Hopelessness really was the biggest weight in the world.

  As she went about dressing in the white gown, applying mascara and lipstick and pinning her hair up to Kenzo’s liking, with a few long tendrils framing her face, she tried to find some good thing in the world to cling to.

  Alexus.

  Her sister was safe and that was all that mattered, right?

  So why did a daydream of Judd sweeping in and saving her flood her thoughts?

  A tear threatened to trickle down her freshly powdered face, and she counted to ten until the urge to cry subsided.

  She threw a look at the tub and the tile that concealed her phone. The toothpaste still held. If she had time, she could attempt another call to Diesel.

  She took a step toward the tub, but suddenly the door whipped open. She froze as Kenzo stuck his head in.

  Heart pounding, she wondered if he knew what she had been about to do.

  He swept a look over the bathroom and turned his attention to her. “What are you doing?”

  “Only grabbing the hand towel.” She continued across the floor to the gold finish towel bar and expensive, luxurious towel in creamy white hanging there. She pulled it off and pretended to dab at her lip gloss.

  Satisfied, he jerked his head for her to come to him, and she did, like the dog she was in this place…taking orders…doing as she was told, staying where she was told.

  On her very high sparkly heels, she crossed the bathroom to the man waiting for her.

  He looked into her eyes. While his were a shocking shade of light blue and some women might find them beautiful, she hated them. Pure evil looked back at her.

  Raising a hand to her face, he touched a fingertip to the tendril of hair following the curve of her cheek. “Perfect,” he whispered.

  Her stomach hollowed. Panic swept in. She thought of ways to kill him if he attempted to lay a hand on her.

  Manicure scissors. The spike of her high heel.

  She swallowed hard. “I’m ready.”

  He didn’t move. When she lifted her gaze to his again, she found his heavy stare on her.

  “Tonight you’re mine, Selena. When we reach our destination, you will be on my arm and you’ll show everyone what you are to me.”

  Her lips trembled. “Uh…what exactly is that?”

  He jerked his hand so quick that she flinched. The blow she expected never came—he couldn’t exactly parade her around these buyers willing to dump tens of thousands of dollars on his drugs if she sported a black eye or fat lip.

  “Maybe we have some time for me to finally show you.” He nodded. “I’m sick of waiting.”

  Her mind shot to the moment she’d been dreading all this time—when he forced himself on her. There had to be a way to get out of this. She was strong, smart and resourceful. She’d come this far and helped her sister to escape.

  She looked into his eyes and nodded. “It’s time, Kenzo.”

  The tip of his eyebrow flitted up and a smile crossed his face. “Now we’re talkin’.” He slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her up against his solid form.

  Panic and bile filled her throat, but she pretended to be consumed with his kisses as she walked him toward the bed.

  He shoved her down roughly. Her first instinct was to scramble up, but she went still, counting heartbeats while she willed her body to remain quiet and her brain to find a place of calm in order to function at its peak performance.

  She wiggled up the bed as if moving toward the fluffy pillows there.

  “Sir, is everything okay?” the guard spoke from the doorway.

  Kenzo twisted, half lying atop her, to send a glare at the guard. “Yes, goddammit, get the hell outta here and shut the door.”

  The door closed quietly, but it sounded as a death knell to her. She curled her fingers into the covers and waited for Kenzo’s next move.

  He jammed his knee between her legs. She sucked in a harsh breath.

  “You like that, do you?” He ground his knee hard into her pussy.

  She groaned loudly, and he chuckled.

  He grabbed for her breast, kneading it too hard and bruising her. She cried out, and he took it as desire.

  Good. She needed him engrossed in the moment.

  He shoved onto his knees, grinning at her as he unzipped his fly. She wiggled on the bed, shimmying ever closer to the nightstand where a big, heavy, expensive brass lamp sat.

  If she could get her hand around it, manage to lift it and bring it down over his head while he kissed her…

  He threw himself atop her, working her gown up her hips. She stretched her fingers toward the lamp. Nearly there.

  “You’re wrinkling the beautiful dress you bought me,” she cooed.

  “Huh?” He leaned away from her and looked down.

  She took the chance to wiggle toward the side of the bed more, straightening her gown on her legs as she did in order to convince Kenzo that her actions weren’t taking a vile, downward turn.

  Was she capable of bashing his skull with that lamp?

  Yes, she thought as she smelled his breath and hair oil. She could.

  He shoved his way between her legs again, and she anchored one hand to his shoulder, holding him in place even as she reached out for the lamp.

  He kissed her, and the moment was here.

  Curling her hand on the thinnest part of the lamp, she yanked it off the nightstand and brought it down with a cry onto the back of his head.

  He slumped on top of her with a loud grunt and went dead still.

  Her heart hammered. She thought she might throw up. Was he unconscious or dead?

  She couldn’t wait to find out—she had to get him off her and make her escape.

  One look at his face revealed his slack lips and closed eyes, but the man was still breathing.

  She shoved him to the side, and he rolled onto the mattress, a dead weight.

  Bolting to her feet, she grabbed the lamp and held it, ready to strike. But the man didn’t move.

  A soft knock on the door made her issue a shrill scream.

  “Everything all right, sir?” the guard asked through the door.

  “Yes!” she cried out in a mockery of pleasure. “Yes! Oh Kenzo, yes!”

  Heart slamming her ribs, she looked at Kenzo unconscious on the bed while she mimicked sexual bliss to his guard.

  It worked—seconds later, she heard the man’s footsteps moving away from her door.

  She nudged Kenzo one more time, and he didn’t budge. How long would he be out for? She had no way of knowing, but she couldn’t waste time.

  Rushing to the bathroom, she scrabbled at the tile. It fell into her hand, and she reached into the hole, pinched her phone between two fingers and extracted it. Without bothering to reattach the tile, she ran out of the bathroom. A glance at the bed showed her captor still out cold.

  Escaping the mansion without the guards stopping her wasn’t even a possibility in her mind. She had to find a place to hide, though, and quick.

  With the phone stuffed in the bodice of her gown, she opened the door, peeked right and left and found the corridor empty. Then she slipped out and took off at a fast run. She turned the corner and her heels threatened to spill her on the tile. As she ran past a table along one wall, she spotted a heavy geode paperweight and picked it up. If anybody came after her, she’d brain him too.

  She had expl
ored the mansion extensively, with guards on her tail, of course, but exactly for this reason. She knew a few hiding spots, and her favorite was in the basement level of the compound.

  Looking over her shoulders, and right and left, she managed to escape notice of the guards as she made her way past the kitchens and to the basement door. She’d only had a peek down the stairs once before she grew too scared someone would find her, but she knew the darkness would provide a place to hide, and every basement had an exit, right?

  She was hoping for a door or a window to shimmy out. Once outside, escaping the guards who patrolled the grounds and avoiding the security cameras would be another challenge, but she’d think about that when she got there.

  With all the confidence in the world, she reached the door and closed it behind her. She heard the whir of some machine in the basement, possibly the air conditioner unit or a washing machine. She hurried down the stairs, thanking God above that they were solid, sturdy stairs. She had no desire to trip on her heels and fall to her death at the bottom.

  Darkness enveloped her, and a single window along the wall showed her a few blades of grass from the yard outside. Shrinking from sight of the window, she ducked into the shadows of some wine shelves and pulled out her phone.

  Oh God. The battery was at three percent. She had little time to make a call before it died completely.

  She had to make it a good one.

  Who would she call? The cops? The idea of them raiding the mansion gave her a strong urge to say fuck it all and dial 9-1-1. But explaining would take too long—precious time she needed to remain hidden.

  Besides, if one cop showed up on the scene, he’d be no match for the guards or even Kenzo if he woke up.

  She knew only one person who would come with a team of bad-asses as backup. Diesel.

  She pressed his contact and put the phone to her ear.

  Chapter Three

  “You sure this is it?” Dixon’s murmur reached Diesel from his right side.

  “Fucking positive.” Looking up at the windows of the mansion, Diesel wondered how the hell Selena had gotten herself into this mess—and how much he’d failed her.

  His bowels felt watery and his lungs hot and tight. Knowing that for a month she’d been held prisoner in this place, by some monster…and that she’d knocked him out and was now hiding in the basement wine cellar…

  He tightened his already cramped fists.

  They’d been waiting for the guard to make his appearance so they could take the fucker out. As soon as he stepped around the corner of the house, Diesel, Dixon and two other brothers were on him.

  Diesel slammed the pistol he held into the back of his head. The guard crumpled, but before he hit the ground, Dixon had disarmed him and the other two dragged his body off and tied him up out of sight.

  On each side of the house, he knew the rest of his brothers were doing the same thing, and only when all the guards outside were subdued would they breach the mansion.

  Diesel stared at the basement entrance. “You think Patriot disarmed the system?”

  Since Patriot worked in construction, he had extensive knowledge of security systems.

  Dixon met his stare. “Unless it’s something he hasn’t come up against before, he got it.”

  Diesel nodded. “Let’s go.” He took off running to the basement entry. This all seemed too easy. Bash a couple thugs over the head, cut some wires…they had to be missing something.

  He’d trust his brothers to handle whatever was to come. His job was to go in and get Selena out.

  The basement door was locked, as expected. His petty crime days of his early twenties would work in his favor now, because he knew how to pick a lock like the best of them.

  Slipping the metal sliver into the lock, he pressed it upward into the inner workings and felt when it sweetly tripped open.

  His heart leaped from that one little flick, barely detectable. Slowly, he extracted the metal pick and held his breath as he twisted the handle. Beside him, Dixon counted down with his fingers to the others.

  Three, two, one, forward.

  Diesel opened the door. He, Dixon and three guys entered at a rapid pace. When Diesel swept his gaze over the space and spotted the glint of wine bottles, he damn near cried out for her.

  He rushed forward. When she phoned, she told him she was hiding between the tall wooden shelves, and he knew she wouldn’t show herself unless she knew it was him coming after her.

  “Selena,” he whispered.

  A roughened cry met his ears, and she stepped out, wearing a white gown that skimmed the floor.

  His knees threatened to buckle at the mere sight of the woman, but he held steady, masked his expression and reached out a hand to her. She slid hers into his, the skin cool from being in the basement, but soft and familiar.

  “I got her,” Diesel said to the others. He pulled her out of her hiding place, and Dixon and the others made haste to the exit. They had seconds at best. At worst, there were other guards who discovered their invasion.

  The men ahead of him cleared the way, and with Selena’s hand in his grasp, Diesel’s focus was on getting her outside that door, across the lawn and to their van.

  “Clear!” Dixon alerted him.

  He stepped outside and pulled Selena with him. Swinging his head right and left to be on alert for dangers, he towed her across the manicured lawn. She stumbled, and he turned, saw the reason for her struggles were the heels she wore. He whipped her off her feet into his arms, and she latched on to him.

  As he closed the distance between the mansion and the van at warp speed, he heard a shout. People were running from all directions. Some of them were Dark Falcons, who jumped in one of the vans. Doors were slammed, and they peeled out of the driveway.

  Sirens sounded just as he thundered up to the van door with Selena in his arms. “Get in!” he ordered. She lunged through the door, hit her knees with her dress twisted around her legs, but she scrambled up into the seat.

  “Duck down.” He jumped in behind her and called the driver of the other van that had already made a getaway. “Give me a roll call,” he demanded.

  As the man said the names, Diesel repeated them to Dixon.

  “We’re missing Jesse. Where the hell is he?” More adrenaline hit Diesel’s system, and he grabbed the door handle again. “I’m going after him.”

  “No, man, wait a minute.” Dixon held up a hand to stay him.

  “I can’t leave a man behind for my cause.” He opened the door and stuck one foot out to go after their brother.

  “The cops are coming. When we cut the security, we must have tripped some alarm. We gotta move fast—there’s no way we’re going to explain our way out of why we broke into that mansion,” one of the guys seated in the rear of the van said.

  At that second, they saw a man running out of the building, hell-bent for the van.

  “Here he comes! Tank, drive!” Dixon commanded.

  Tank stepped on the gas, whipping the van toward the man running away from the mansion with two thugs on his ass. Jesse was fast and several paces away from them. He spotted the van coming toward him.

  Diesel grabbed hold of the van’s frame, leaning all the way out of the door with one hand out. Jesse’s palm hit his, and Diesel jerked the brother into the van.

  “Drive!” he called out, and Tank laid on the gas, tearing up that pristine yard and laying rubber on the driveway leading off the property.

  Jesse dropped into the seat and the door slammed shut from momentum. Diesel’s chest heaved from relief. Only then did he turn to Selena.

  She sat huddled on the seat next to the door, arms folded around herself and head bowed. But she wasn’t crying.

  “Jesus Christ,” he ground out and reached for her. When he touched her shoulder, she flinched away from him.

  My God, what did they do to her? His beautiful, free-spirited girl wore a shroud of terror.

  “Anybody have a bottle of water?” he asked.
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  One of the guys in the rear row handed him an unopened bottle. Diesel uncapped it and put it into Selena’s hand. She was pale, thinner and dark bruises stood out beneath her dark blue eyes.

  “Drink this, honey. It will help with the shock.” His low tone urged her to wrap her fingers around the plastic and lift the bottle to her lips. He watched her closely as she swallowed the water, her delicate throat working.

  He dipped his gaze to her breasts. The dress plunged low, revealing most of her cleavage. He had no doubt if he leaned over her, he’d see clear to her navel. Fuck—while she appeared to bear no marks on the surface, he saw scars layered on top of more scars when he looked into her eyes.

  She lowered the water and met his stare.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded. Hell, all he wanted to do was pull her into his lap and hold tight. But the way she’d reacted when he touched her kept him from doing that.

  He didn’t pay attention to the guys talking nearby until Dixon said, “We got lucky.”

  Diesel glanced away from Selena. “That could have ended far worse.”

  Dixon’s stare slid to Selena, sitting so still and quiet next to him. When their gazes met again, Diesel read the acknowledgement in Dixon’s eyes—she’d endured shit they couldn’t even guess at yet. She may not be okay—ever. She might still be lost to him, but at least she was safe.

  He didn’t have near enough of the story. Her frantic call had given him two pieces of the puzzle—that she was being held and the address to come rescue her.

  He hadn’t hesitated in rallying the brothers, and soon the clubhouse had emptied and the Dark Falcons were at his back. Thank Christ too. Without them, she wouldn’t be sitting here.

  “Forty minutes until we’re in Mersey,” he told her.

  She nodded but didn’t speak. His insides churned. Seeing her so changed made him want to drive back to that mansion, light some explosives and watch the whole place go up in flames. He didn’t even know the name of the man who kept her there or why.