Page 65 of Diesel's Perseverance
Diesel opened the car door and stepped out. “I’ll show you the room.”
She followed him up the porch, through a large wooden door, and into a red-tiled foyer. An arched doorway led into a sizable room with brightly colored Talavera Mexican tiles on the wall behind a curved bar. Pool tables lined the back of the room, and three long couches covered in Southwestern patterns formed a U-shape in front of a huge flat screen television. Men in leather and jeans and women in barely-there clothing filled the room. It was a scene reminiscent of the Insurgents’ clubhouse in Pinewood Springs.
“Did you want something to drink?” Diesel asked as he navigated them toward another arched doorway.
“A Diet Coke would be great, but I’d rather take it to the room than drink it here.”
“No worries,” he said as he moved them toward the bar.
A few minutes later, with a soda can in hand, she followed Diesel up two flights of stairs.
“Here you go,” he said, turning the key in a lock and opening the door.
“Thanks,” she replied.
A cool ocean breeze blew through an open window.
“Wedohave a view of the water.” Myla rushed over to get a better look. “Water has always been a salve for me. I find it soothing and comforting.”
“That’s why you hang out by the river so much,” he said.
Nodding, she said, “It energizes and calms me at the same time. I love it.” She pushed away from the window sill and popped open the Diet Coke. “So you’re staying with me?”
“I was with Rags, but you’re a prettier roommate.” He laughed.
She smiled, knowing that he struggled to say what he was feeling. Except for anger and lust, the show of emotions seemed taboo in the outlaw community.But aren’t most men like that, outlaw or not? They think showing fear, insecurity, and vulnerability is a sign of weakness.
“Is Rags upset that you pushed him out of the room?”
“Nah. He doesn’t care where he stays as long as he’s got a bed. Are you good if I go downstairs for a bit?” he asked.
“Of course. I’ll unpack, shower, and take in the beautiful view. Tomorrow’s the rally, right?”
Diesel’s eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pressed together.
“Don’t even think of telling me I’m not going because I am. If I can’t be safe with fifty-plus Insurgents, you’ve been feeding me a lot of BS about your club.” Myla batted her eyes and smiled.
“What am I gonna do with you, woman?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Take me to the rally.”
The corners of his mouth twitched and then expanded into a full-blown grin.
“I’ll be real good and stick by you the whole time,” she said.
“Other outlaw clubs we’re not friendly with will be there. You can’t question me or start arguing like you love to do when I tell you to do something.”
“I promise,” she said, crossing anXover her heart.
“Okay, then, you’ll be going to your first biker rally tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait!”
“There’ll be a lot of kickass bikes there. You should see how some of the bikers customize their motorcycles. It’s unbelievable, and they’re true works of art.”
“Will all the bikers be one-percenters?”
“Nah. The majority will be from clubs that belong to the American Motorcyclist Association. They’ll be some nomads there too. A lot of those guys used to be with an outlaw club but, for whatever reason, decided to live a solitary biker life. They still have associations with their old club and its chapters and support clubs, but they don’t stay in one place.”
