Removing his hat, he rubs his hand over his head. “I’m not so sure about this, Shady. Dorian’s not the kind of guy you just walk up to and demand shit from.”
“I’m not demanding anything. I’m just going to talk to him. Her leaving is just a precaution. Trust me.”
“It’s him I don’t trust,” he snaps, cutting me off. “He will kill you.”
“Then guess what, I’ll die and Diem will be free.” Stepping closer, I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, bringing his face an inch from mine. “I would give my life for you. For my club. For Carrie. I am not scared to offer up the same thing for Diem. I will not be intimidated by any man. I don’t care who that motherfucker is.”
Taking a deep breath, he nods, grabbing my shoulder. “Okay,” he says, his eyes burning with respect and pride. “Do what you got to do. I’ll take care of everything else.” Pulling him in, I hug my brother. My best friend. The one person I trust with the one thing that I hold close to my heart—my Diem. He will do this for me because he loves me. And because he knows I’d sure as fuck do it for him.
* * *
My bag is packed, slung over my shoulder as I prop up against the wall and stare at Diem, who wears a genuine smile for the first time in weeks. She already looks free . . . happy. Her eyes move to me and I give her a smirk. Her face falls as she takes me in, fully dressed and packed to leave. “A minute?” I ask, nodding my head toward the kitchen.
She follows me in, her hands fidgeting nervously. “You’re leaving?” she asks, once we’re alone.
“Yeah.” I smile, caressing her cheek with the back of my hand. “Remember when I told you I would handle everything? Well, some things can’t be done over the phone.”
She nods. “I know.”
“Look,” I start, framing her face with my hands. “I made some arrangements for you. Rookie is going to handle everything. But I need you to do exactly what he says when the time comes.”
She pulls away, shaking her head. “He will kill you, Shady.”
I roll my eyes. “So I’ve been told,” I say, bored. “What he will do is listen to what I have to say. Trust me, babe. I’m pretty good at this. I know what I’m doing, I just don’t know how long it will take. So I need you to do as I ask.”
“I’m not gonna sit back and let you deal with this shit yourself,” she snaps, her eyes flashing with anger.
“What happened to letting me handle shit, huh? Where’s that Diem from the shower this morning?”
“She found her nuts in a sandwich,” she spits back at me. And I almost smile.
“I made you a promise. I plan to make good on that promise too. Now it’s time for you to keep your word. I’ve never asked you for anything, Diem. I’m asking you for this. And if I remember correctly, you owe me one.” It’s a shitty hand to play, but it’s the only one I have. But it doesn’t hurt her.
Coming closer, she reaches out, fisting her hands in my shirt. “My life will be worth nothing if the rest of it is spent grieving you. I can deal with anything this shitty life throws at me because I know I’ll have you to come home to. But if you leave, I lose everything.”
Her words are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. She’s what I’ve spent my whole life searching for. She’s the only thing that can fill that void in my chest. And for that reason alone, is why I’m doing this. “I will come back to you. I swear on your life, Diem—the most precious thing I value. I’m not asking anymore. I’m telling you.” Cradling her neck in my hands, I run my thumb across her cheek and whisper my final plea. “Let me go.”
Her brown eyes well with tears. I can see the resolve in them even before she speaks. “Then go.”
Closing my eyes, I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not that she’s letting me do this; it’s that she trusts me enough to. “I love you,” I tell her, planting a soft kiss on her trembling lips.
“If you die, I’m going to kill you,” she says against my mouth, and I smile.
“Deal.” Allowing myself to drown in that sea of brown, I gaze into her eyes one last time. “See you around, pretty girl.”
I turn and walk out, promising myself that this is the last time I will ever leave her again.
* * *
Dorian is currently staying at his mansion in Boston—one of the many he has in the U.S. It makes my cabin look like a shack and Fort Knox look like a playground. A sixteen-foot wrought-iron fence wired with motion detectors surrounds the property that sits on a corner lot. The yard is guarded by numerous pit bulls that I’m sure live off of human flesh. Men are at every corner, constantly on watch for any suspicious activity. It’s a little much if you ask me, but whatever lets him sleep at night.