Page 18 of Desired By Diesel
"I drove two hours to see my daughter. You're not going to let me say hello?"
"You drove two hours without calling, without notice, to an address you shouldn't have." I keep my voice steady even though my heart is pounding. "That's not concern. That's stalking."
Something flickers behind his eyes. That cold thing I used to pretend wasn't there. "Careful, Gracie. That's a strong word. My lawyer would call it parental concern."
"Your lawyer can call it whatever he wants. I'm calling the police if you don't leave."
He laughs. Soft, condescending. "Always so dramatic. This is why we have problems, you know. You overreact to everything."
"Leave. Now."
"I'm not done talking to you."
He reaches out and grabs my arm. Not hard enough to bruise — he's too smart for that — but hard enough to make his point. Hard enough to trap me.
And then Diesel is there.
I don't know where he came from. I didn't hear his door, didn't see him cross the yard. One second I'm alone with Ryan's hand on my arm, the next second there's a wall of muscle between us and Ryan's wrist is bent at an angle that makes him gasp.
"Let go," Diesel says.
It's not loud. It's barely a suggestion. But something in his voice makes Ryan's hand drop from my arm immediately.
"Who the fuck are you?" Ryan's trying for outrage, but I can hear the fear underneath. Good.
"I'm the neighbor." Diesel doesn't move, doesn't blink. He's just standing there, between me and Ryan, taking up all the space. "And you're leaving."
"This is none of your business. This is between me and my wife?—"
"Ex-wife." I find my voice. "We've been divorced for a year."
"Whatever. The point is, this is a private matter, and this... thug... has no right?—"
"Here's what's going to happen." Diesel's voice is calm. Almost pleasant. It's the scariest thing I've ever heard. "You're going to walk back to your car. You're going to drive away. And you're not going to come back."
"Or what?" Ryan's trying to puff up, but he's pale. "You'll assault me? In front of witnesses? My lawyer will?—"
"Your lawyer isn't here." Diesel takes a step forward, and Ryan takes two steps back. "I am. And I'm telling you — one time, nice and clear — that if you come near her again, if you touch her again, if you show up at this house again without her permission, we're going to have a different kind of conversation. The kind you don't walk away from feeling good about."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm making you a promise."
They stare at each other. Ryan's jaw is working, his hands clenched at his sides. I can see him calculating — the lawsuit, the restraining order, the narrative he'll spin. But I can also see him looking at Diesel. Really looking. At the size of him, the tattoos, the absolute stillness that says he's done talking and ready to act.
Ryan breaks first.
"This isn't over," he says, but he's already backing toward his car. "I'll see you in court, Gracie. And I'll be telling the judge exactly what kind of company you're keeping."
"Drive safe," Diesel says.
Ryan gets in his BMW and peels out of the driveway. We watch until his taillights disappear around the corner.
The second he's gone, I start shaking.
"Hey." Diesel turns to me, his voice completely different now. Soft. Gentle. "He's gone. You're okay."
"He was here. He knows where I live. He?—"
