Page 25 of Desired By Diesel
My hand shoots out and stops it.
Then I push — not hard, just enough to send him stumbling backward into his own hallway. His whiskey goes flying, glass shattering against the hardwood. I step inside, and Rogue and Lock appear behind me, filling the doorway.
"What the fuck—" Ryan's face goes white. "You can't just barge into my house?—"
"Amelia," I call out, ignoring him completely. "You here, sweetheart?"
"She's in the living room." Ryan's trying to recover, reaching for his phone. "And I'm calling the police. This is breaking and entering. This is?—"
Lock plucks the phone out of his hand like he's taking candy from a child. "No calls."
"Give that back?—"
"Sit down and shut up," Rogue says pleasantly. "The adults are handling things."
I follow the sound of the television to the living room. Amelia's curled up on the couch, knees to her chest, watching cartoons with red-rimmed eyes. She looks up when I walk in, and her face crumples.
"Diesel?"
"Hey, sweetheart." I crouch down, keeping my voice gentle. "Your mom's outside. She's waiting for you. You ready to go home?"
She launches off the couch and into my arms, her little body trembling against mine. "I wanna go home. He said I had to stay. I wanna see Mommy."
"I know, baby." I pick her up, let her bury her face in my neck. "Mommy's right outside. Rogue's going to take you to her, okay?"
Rogue appears in the doorway, his whole demeanor different now — softer, warmer. "Hey, Amelia. I'm a friend of Diesel's. You like piggyback rides?"
She peeks at him, then nods.
I transfer her to Rogue carefully. "Take her to Gracie. Keep them in the car until I'm done here."
Rogue settles Amelia on his hip and heads for the door. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go find your mom."
I watch them go. Wait until I hear the front door close.
Then I turn back to Ryan.
He's pressed against the wall, Lock looming over him, and whatever bravado he had left is rapidly crumbling.
"You." I walk toward him slowly. "And me. We're going to have a conversation."
"I'll have you arrested. All of you. My lawyer?—"
"Your lawyer isn't here." I stop in front of him. Close enough to see the sweat beading on his forehead. "I am."
"You can't just?—"
I move.
One second I'm standing there. The next I've got him pinned against the wall, my forearm across his throat. His feet are barely touching the ground, and the sound he makes is deeply satisfying.
"Let me tell you who you're dealing with," I say quietly. "Nineteen years, 75th Ranger Regiment. Multiple combat deployments to places you've never heard of, doing things you couldn't imagine. I have commendations. I have a spotless service record. I have an honorable discharge and a clean civilian record. Not so much as a parking ticket."
I increase the pressure. Watch his face go from red to purple.
"You, on the other hand, just kidnapped your own daughter. Violated a custody order. Stalked your ex-wife for weeks — I have photos, times, dates, license plates. You showed up at her home uninvited and put your hands on her." I lean closer. "In front of a witness. That witness being me."
His eyes are bulging now. I ease up just enough to let him gasp in a breath.
