Page 113 of Diesel's Perseverance
“Yeah.”
“Anything unusual happen, or was it all cool?”
“She sent me a text asking me to come up to the room at six-thirty, then go with her to the porch and wait until her friend came. I did it and did the same when she came back like you told me to.”
I wonder why the hell she wanted Welder to be her bodyguard earlier in the evening.
“Do you need me for anything?”
“No, I’m good.”
The prospect quickly walked away, and Diesel tried the door again. Nothing.Fuck!He rapped lightly on the door, but there was no answer.She’s probably sleeping.He knocked harder, but still nothing, and then he pounded like hell on the door, and he heard a small yelp.
“Myla, it’s me. Open up. I’m back.”
A couple of minutes passed before he heard, “Tell me something that you and I know to prove it’s you.”
A smile crossed his face. “You got the cutest pink heart-shaped birthmark on your lower back.”
Then he heard the drag of chair legs across the floor. The door flung open, and he saw her standing there in a flimsy nightshirt, her hair tousled and wild about her face and down her back.
“Diesel!” She threw herself into his arms, hugged him tight, and buried her face against the fabric of his T-shirt. Her tits pressed against him, and her lower body settled into the cradle of his hips.
He dropped the saddlebag on the ground and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her even closer. She tilted her head back and arched up while he bent down, and she kissed him. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, but it went through him like lightening.
“Let’s go inside,” he said as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the room. He planted her on the bed then went back to retrieve the saddlebag.
The light from the lamp on the nightstand cast a golden glow on the room. Myla sat against the headboard, her gaze fixed on his bandaged arm.
“What happened?” she said, pointing at his right forearm.
“I cut myself. It’s no big deal,” he said. With the toe of his boot, he pushed his bag into the closet then shrugged off his cut.
“What is it with you? Every time you go out with your club, you come back with bandages on you.”
He laughed. “I guess I’m clumsy.”
Wrinkling her brow, she said, “No, you’re not. What happened?”
Shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, he said, “It’s club business.”
Throwing her hands up, she replied, “I know, but that doesn’t make me feel any less anxious.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. It’s just the way it is, but I can take care of myself. I’m here, aren’t I?” He chuckled but stopped when she glared at him. “I know what I’m doing, okay? Don’t make a big deal about this”—he pointed to the gauze—“it’s just a scrape.”
“It doesn’t look like that to me. What’s under there… stitches?”
“Yeah.”
“If you keep up like this, you’re going to give Frankenstein some serious competition.”
Diesel walked over, perched on the edge of the bed, and tugged her to him. “I promise that won’t happen. Now tell me why you had the chair up under the door.”
She explained what had happened after he’d left, and as she told him the details, anger zinged through him, but he kept it inside. Myla was nervous enough about his injury, he didn’t want to pull her farther into the darkness of his world, but he was convinced the fucking snitch was the one who came up to her room. Whoever the fucker was had known he was heading up to see Cano. Maybe the rat was afraid Cano would squeal and tell them who he was, but Diesel actually believed the asswipe when he’d said he didn’t know the name of the traitor.
“I’m positive it’s the guy I saw at the club party. You know, the one I told you about?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it was.”
