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  DIESEL

  Savage Brothers MC - Tennessee Chapter

  Jordan Marie

  Copyright © 2018 by Jordan Marie

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, groups, businesses, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Robin Harper with Wicked By Design

  Photographer: Wander Aguiar

  Model: Roddy Hanson

  Editor: Erin Toland

  WARNING: This book contains sexual situations, violence and other adult themes. Recommended for 18 and above.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Title

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Diesel

  1. Rory

  2. Diesel

  3. Rory

  4. Diesel

  5. Rory

  6. Diesel

  7. Rory

  8. Diesel

  9. Rory

  10. Diesel

  11. Rory

  12. Diesel

  13. Rory

  14. Diesel

  15. Rory

  16. Diesel

  17. Rory

  18. Diesel

  19. Diesel

  20. Rory

  21. Diesel

  22. Rory

  23. Diesel

  24. Rory

  25. Diesel

  26. Rory

  27. Diesel

  28. Rory

  29. Diesel

  30. Rory

  31. Diesel

  32. Rory

  33. Diesel

  34. Rory

  35. Diesel

  36. Rory

  37. Diesel

  38. Diesel

  39. Rory

  40. Diesel

  41. Rory

  42. Rory

  43. Diesel

  Epilogue

  Prologue to Rory

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  * * *

  By

  Jordan Marie

  Blurb

  I've only truly loved two things in my life.

  My club and my son.

  I gave up one, trying to keep the other safe.

  It worked, too… until an enemy took my son.

  But he made one mistake— He left me breathing.

  There's nothing I won't do to save my child.

  * * *

  A woman is the last thing I need, especially a woman like Rory McDaniels.

  She's stubborn, beautiful and drives me crazy.

  * * *

  I've told her it's too dangerous to be involved with me. She vows to stay, no matter the cost.

  * * *

  She has no idea how high that price might be.

  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 Vicki 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.

  I pick up the phone, scroll through previous calls and find the one that Violet so thoughtfully programmed into her phone as Vicki. Jesus how dense could I have been? This bitch can’t have a brain in her fucking head. I highlight it and then click call.

  “Damn it! I can’t talk right now, Vi. Diesel must have had a man following him, and they called the cops. I don’t know how they moved so fast, but the fucking police caught us in a traffic stop and we had to think fast to escape, I couldn’t keep Ryan though—which means that fucker got him back. You be ready, we’ll go with plan B in a couple of weeks, after you’ve had a chance to—”

  “Vi’s not going to get a chance to do anything,” I tell her, interrupting her. I should have probably let her talk longer—see how much more shit she would spill. In my experience, Vicki is nothing if not full of shit. I can’t though, because her voice slams into my head like fingernails raking down a chalkboard.

  “You bastard! I told Jude he should have killed you.”

  “Instead, I’m going to kill both of you. There’s not a rock you can climb under that I won’t find you. I warned you before, Vicki. I warned you when I gave you the last penny you’d ever get from me. That was payment in full. You’re the crack-whore who chose your next fix over our son. He’s mine completely. You have no claim to him.”

  “Bullshit! I’m his mother. I have a new man now. We have money and I’m clean. I’ve changed. He’s mine!”

  “Did you think you knocked me out enough I wouldn’t remember how you were screaming about money even while letting some prick touch my child and take him away.”

  “I just meant—”

  “I knew what you meant, bitch. Let me tell you what I mean. I will find you. You can go into deep hiding and it may take me a month, two months, fuck even years, I don’t care. I will find you and when I do, I won’t leave you breathing. Just like your bitch of a friend here.”

  “You’d kill a woman? I knew you were scum.”

  “I’d kill anyone who tries to hurt my son, Vicki. That’s something you better never forget,” I tell her and close the phone, ending the call.

  I look at Violet. I guess that probably is her name. I guess everything out of her poisoned mouth wasn’t a lie. I try to see what attracted me, but now all I see is a lying conniving bitch who played me, all to get my son in the hands of the bitch who sold him.

  “What are we going to do with her?” Crusher asks.

  “What we do with all traitors to the club,” I answer, looking straight at Violet. She understands, I can tell by the way her body jerks with the delivery of my judgement.

  “You sure, man?” Crusher asks. He’s not second-guessing me. I understand the reason he asks. I’ve been with Violet for a hell of a long time. Since that time, Ryan’s life has been repeatedly put in danger. I never understood why. Couldn’t figure out how they always knew my moves before I made them. Now I do, and it all lies at the feet of this lying cunt.

  “I’ll do it myself,” I tell him, having no second thoughts about it. In fact, carving the word traitor into her body before I let her die will give me something to remember. Something that will stay with me—a lesson I will never forget.

  Never let a woman in. Never let your guard down and never give one your trust.

  1

  Rory

  I lean back in my chair and throw my legs up on the bannister of my deck. I look out over the white capped mountains and breathe the crisp morning air into my lungs. When I moved to Whitefish, Montana, I wasn’t sure what I’d find. I just wanted away from Virginia. I needed away, for safety and for my own sanity. Other people might say their families are killing them off, but the stress and the pressures from mine truly was. I had to cut myself away from them. I took off in the middle of the night driving and I literally had no idea where I’d end up. I just knew I needed to get away.

  If you were to ask me, I couldn’t for the life of me tell you how I ended up in Whitefish. I just know that it’s such a small town that you barely see it on the map. I know that there’s no major retail stores, no chain restaurants, no big motels… nothing.

  Whitefish exists against the odds. It’s a town where over seventy percent of the residents rent their homes out through the year to people looking to get off the grid, who enjoy fishing, hunting or skiing. That’s about it. The ones that remain in town, do it out of pure stubbornness.

  I guess that’s why I like it so much. If there’s one thing my dark red hair and green eyes have taught me, it is to embrace my Irish roots and dig in when I feel like it’s worth it—and to me, Whitefish definitely is.

  I live in a quiet part of Whitefish, on the outskirts of the actual town. It’s a nice gated community, which might be stupid, but it makes me feel safer somehow—never mind the guard is old enough to be my grandfather. I live in an attached duplex. The whole community is a series of duplexes actually. Though there’s only six homes in total—making three buildings. There’s some empty land that I assume the owner was going to build on. But considering two of the units are up for sale now, I don’t see him doing that soon. My unit is nice. The downstairs consists of a living room, a laundry room and bathroom. Upstairs there are two bedrooms and yeah, they’re a little small but, I’m the only one that lives here, so, it’s not an issue. There is also a huge kitchen upstairs and my deck comes off of it and faces a beautiful mountain line that I love. The deck also includes a door to my bedroom and is probably the entire reason I bought the place and decided to put down roots here. I don’t regret it—not even a little. Moments like this one, is exactly why I did.

  I close my eyes as I take a drink of hot chocolate and cross my feet at the ankles. I open them back up and look at my warm, woolen off white socks with red and blue snowflakes printed on them. They’re warm and toasty and one of my first purchases at the Whitefish General Store. I bought them right before I asked the owner for a job. For some reason he hired me on the spot and was a big reason that I searched out a home to buy. I was tired of running, tired of moving and I needed a place to call my own.

  The thought reminds me however that I don’t have time to enjoy the morning air as long as I usually do. I look at my watch and frown, getting up. I have to be at work in the next hour. The snow is only on the ridgeline, but that doesn’t mean ski traffic won’t be picking up soon. That’s probably the only drawback to Whitefish. I get up and go through the motions of getting ready, making sure the doors to the deck are locked and all of the windows are locked. I freshen up and fix my hair, frowning when I look in the mirror. I’ve been here for six months and you would think in that time that some of the black lines under my eyes would have disappeared.

  I wonder if they ever will.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the towels draped on the towel bar are not straight. I fix them back on reflex, making sure all the lines are straight and that nothing is off kilter. I hate myself as I do it, but some lessons are engrained too deeply to leave you.

  I walk down the stairs and to my front door without thinking—it’s just become my normal routine. I’m locking my front door when I hear a truck pull into the garage attached to mine. I frown. I was told that side of the duplex was owned, but as long as I’ve been here the owner has never shown up. I frown because from the looks of it the person is here to stay. He’s driving an old Ford truck and the bed is packed full of crap and it’s pulling a box trailer. Hopefully it’s a nice family.

  I walk to
ward my garage, pasting a smile on my face. A guy gets out of the driver’s side and I take a step back despite having my lane of the garage and his truck between us. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. His face looks like it was lovingly chiseled from stone by a master. He has long dirty blonde hair, pulled up tight on his head with bright streaks in it that you can tell was put there by the sun, not a hairdresser. He’s tall and lanky, but at the same time he’s got broad shoulders that pull his white t-shirt tight in a way that you can see his muscles, despite the flannel long sleeved shirt he’s wearing over it. He’s beautiful. That’s not what makes me relax and feel more comfortable around him, however. That would be the small little dynamo that stumbles out of the passenger side of the truck.

  He’s a replica of the man, except his face is sweeter and he has green eyes where the man has brown. The little boy’s hair is exactly like his father’s maybe a tad lighter. It’s not long but it could definitely use a cut. As he bounces from the truck holding a stuffed dinosaur, his bangs fall into his eyes.

  He looks up at me almost instantly and my heart melts. He’s the most adorable little boy I’ve ever seen.