Page 39 of Diesel's Perseverance
“Yeah. We’ll have to come back for them.”
“We’re gonna have to rent a van to take all this shit back,” Animal said.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Diesel replied.
“Here’s the last flash drive in this box,” Rags said as he inserted a bright blue one into the port.
Images of Myla running flashed on the screen. Intently, Diesel watched as he saw her frantically unlocking the front door, fear etched on her face. Then Freddy appeared, his brow furrowed and his eyes blazing with rage. He yanked her away from the door by her hair. Myla’s pleas for him to leave her alone were met with a blow of his fist to the left side of her face. She fell back, and Freddy pounced on her, mercilessly raining down blow after blow with clenched fists. Myla tried to shield her face with her hands, but it was useless.
“You fucking bitch,” Freddy spat with each strike.
“Stop, Freddy. You’re hurting me,” Myla begged through swollen lips, but her pleas went unnoticed.
“Get up, you stupid slut. Get up! No one cheats on me!” He yanked her by the hair and began pulling her, but she planted her behind on the floor and fought for control of her hair. He fell back a few steps, and Myla scrambled up to her feet, grabbed a vase from the entry table, and threw it full force at him.
“Fuck!” Freddy staggered backward, blood gushing from a cut on his head.
Myla fled down the hall.
The following footage showed Freddy pounding on a wooden door, yelling for Myla to open up. He held a blood-stained towel to his head. After several minutes, he gave up and walked away. Another camera picked him up climbing the stairs. Additional recording showed Myla slipping out of the room with dark bruises and red scratches marring her face, arms, and legs, and a swollen eye. The camera in the foyer caught her grabbing something out of the entry table drawer and dashing out of the house, and the outside camera showed her getting into a BMW and taking off.
“Fuck,” Animal said softly.
Diesel’s throat constricted, and fury boiled inside him. What he’d just seen tore at his heart.
“No woman deserves that shit,” Rags said as he pulled out the flash drive. He looked over at Diesel. “Did you know about this?”
“No. I didn’t know Freddy was such a fuckin’ pussy.”Why the hell did she stay with him?
“It looked like he was high. Not that it excuses what he did, but you know how that shit can fuck you over,” Animal said.
“I figured he was using. Myla said no, but I could tell by how he sniffled on the phone when we talked. He seemed edgy, nervous, and pissed the few times we spoke in the past year. But that was his damn problem, not Myla’s.Nothingexcuses what he did to her.”
“Damn straight,” Rags and Animal mumbled in unison.
“Did you notice the time stamp on that shit we just saw?” Diesel asked Rags.
“It was five days before the murder. Your brother marked all the drives with date ranges. I’m surprised he kept this one.”
“Me too,” Animal said. “It’s incriminating as fuck.”
“He’s always been a dumbass.” Diesel glanced at his phone. “I gotta meet up with Zach. We’ll come back tomorrow and take all this shit out. Call your buddy to get him over here to clean up the damn mess Freddy made.”
“I already sent him a text. He’s good to go,” Animal replied.
After seeing what Freddy did to Myla, Diesel knew he was cleaning up the evidence to protect her, not his asshole brother. When he’d entered the panic room, his first instinct was to shield Freddy, but now he wanted to ensure Myla didn’t get implicated in a murder. His whole focus was to take care of her. She didn’t deserve any of the shit thrown at her.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Diesel said and headed for the door.
In the pitchblack, Diesel coasted over trash and broken glass. Zach’s pad was located in a rotted stretch of the city with few street lights and dilapidated buildings used as temporary housing for drug addicts and people down on their luck.
He pulled up in front of a run-down brown two-story with a toppled shopping cart and a broken bicycle on the front lawn. Diesel kept glancing around as he made his way up the broken sidewalk to the front porch. He knocked, and chipped paint scattered off the wooden door. The front door cracked open after several slides and clicks, and Zach peered out.
“It’s me, bro,” Diesel said.
The door opened wide, and he stepped inside. A single light bulb hung from a water-stained ceiling. A raw sewage smell lingered in the air.
“How’s it goin’?” Zach asked.
