Page 43 of Diesel

The man moved to his toes, trying to look through the windows.

“She’s inside with a bloody lip.”

“Okay,” the man said. “You and us. If you’re the last one standing, the trucks are yours.” He tossed his keys on the cash and motioned for the other driver to do the same. The man did, confidently shaking his head.

To my surprise, they came at me one at a time. The first guy got in a lucky shot with his bat, and the second guy, swinging his chain, accidentally wrapped the chain around the first guy’s neck. I hit both men, and they went down one beside the other. The other two guys looked at one another, and I waved them forward.

They were both big dudes, and the first got a glancing blow off my chin. Guy number two did the same, but I pretty much let him hit me. I wanted to feel the pain, which I would turn into anger.

Guy number one swung again, but I caught his arm under mine and knocked him the fuck out. Guy number two tried a kick, managing to hit my left thigh. I laid him out next to guy number one.

“That was quick,” Beast said. He grabbed the keys, and I grabbed the cash.

I waved at the window, and Cloie came outside.

“You can tell your friends they can pick up their trucks in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, in a couple of days,” I said. “I catch you or them back on Usher property, and I’ll let you keep my uncle company in the basement.”

Cloie nodded and walked past the men on the ground. “There’s an Uber on the way,” she yelled back.

Another car pulled in front of the house, and two men in black suits got out. Both men looked dead. They were obviously in the right place.

“Edgar Williams,” one of the men said. “We knew of your uncle’s last wishes. Cloie, who we just passed on the road, called to let us know he’d passed.”

I led the men into the house and up the stairs. They assured me he would be taken care of properly.

Gigi followed me to our room, an exact model of bedrooms in the eighteenth century, and plopped down on the bed.

We decide to make love instead of fucking like animals. I didn’t want to break a piece of furniture worth in the thousands. We discussed the Usher property and decided not to place it on the market. We’d return in a few weeks and figure out what was next.

We loaded our bikes the following day and took off for Pine Bluff, Beast, Skittles, Wendy, and Brainiac in one truck, Cinder and Trixie in the other with Gigi and me. Halfway to Arkansas, I told Beast we needed to exchange passengers, and I took Brainiac and Wendy. As we drove into Memphis, Brainiac got a call nobody ever wanted to receive. His parents had been killed in a drive-by shooting in Pine Bluff. They had come through to surprise him. He wasn’t there, and they were dead.

When we got to Pine Bluff, Brainiac became a crazy man. He wanted revenge of the worst kind. The club swore he would have it.