Page 15 of Dima
“Yeah. Won’t be long.”
Guard glanced between the two of us twice before he moved. That last look he gave me dared me to try something. I could tell that the overprotectiveness that Guard had for Bishop wasn’t about him doing his job.
They were brothers. They had a bond that nobody else understood, but I did. I longed for that type of bond for most of my life. I imagined there was nothing like having a brother who would always stand by your side.
So many nights I wished I wasn’t an only child, but I was. Bishop and Guard’s relationship reminded me of what I could have had if my father wouldn’t have ran my mother off. My father robbed me of a lot in this life, but that was some shit I could never forgive him for.
“Sit down, son.”
Bishop calling me son pulled me from my thoughts of my own father.
“I want to make it clear that Maeve will always come first in my life. She’s the most important thing to me—more than this club, more than this business, more than my own damn life. You getting her out of there last night shows me the type of man you are. That shows me your character, and I want you to know that I appreciate that.”
“I’m glad I was there to get her out. She didn’t deserve to be caught between bullets flying.”
“You right. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to her.”
I didn’t say anything, but I could see how much even the thought of losing her pained him. The way Bishop loved his daughter drew more than respect from me. It drew admiration. I admired how dedicated he was to her, how much he loved her.
I could see myself trusting a man like that. If a man put his family above himself, that showed me that he was trustworthy. That was something I always wanted with my own dad. But now all I felt was guilty.
When I learned that Bishop treated the men around him better than my real father ever did, looking at the way he interacted with everybody showed me that Bishop cared about his whole crew. I was able to see the brotherhood for what it really was rather than what I had read in the file.
“I’m happy for you to come with us, baby girl, but if you come, ride with Dima.”
My father told me to ride with Dima like it wasn’t a big deal, as if getting in the car with a man who looked as good as Dima was in my best interest. If he wanted me to focus on school instead of men, he was going about this the wrong way.
“Do I have to?”
I whispered because I didn’t want Dima to be offended. I just couldn’t be trapped in a car with him that long. I knew it would be torture.
“Yes. I want you to be safe. And the only way I can make sure you are safe is if you are with either me, Guard, or Dima. Guardhas something to take care of, and my truck is packed down with gear. I need you to ride with Dima. Is that okay?”
I knew better than to tell my father that I disagreed with him. I had been the model daughter my whole life, and whatever Bishop said always went. There was no room to negotiate with him. His word was law, and I followed it.
“Okay, Daddy.”
I kissed my father’s cheek and trekked toward Dima’s truck. He looked so good as he stood talking to some of the men. He wore Levi’s jeans, cowboy boots, and his Durty Boyz colors. He had a cross earring dangling from his left ear, and damn did that earring look good on him. It made his one dimple on the same side more prominent than it usually was.
“My father said I have to ride with you.”
I folded my arms across my chest and rested my weight on my left side. My foot tapped against the ground on its own. I was impatient as I waited for what I hoped was a refusal. Maybe if he refused, I would be free to ride with someone else.
“Okay.”
Of course, he wouldn’t refuse. He ended his conversation and came around from the driver’s side and opened the door for me. He held his hand out to take my bags, and I gave them to him.
Dima had been a perfect gentleman, but it was something about him that I still didn’t trust, even after he saved my life. There was so much about him that I questioned. I didn’t know all the men in Durty Boyz, but a lot of them grew up in the same neighborhood as my father. I even went to school with some of them. But it was like Dima had dropped out of nowhere and made the biggest splash in my life.
“Thank you,” I said, taking his hand.
Dima helped me into the truck and closed the door behind me. Being alone with him made my whole body heat up. Myevery thought bent to his will, and now we were getting ready to ride in the car together for over six hours to the border meet.
I forced myself to settle into the ride, despite my apprehension. My mind coached me on how to relax, but my body wouldn’t loosen up.
I sat straight in my seat with both hands in my lap. Dima looked straight ahead with only one hand on the steering wheel. J. Cole’s newest album filled the silence between us as we drove.
Dima broke the silence with a chuckle rather than words.
