The tall man with light hair and colorful tattoos showcased on his arms gives Diego a chin lift. I pull through the gate once it opens.
“Park over there on the left next to the black Silverado.”
I do as Diego said and shut off the car. My stomach bottoms out as I stare at the building that looks like an old factory. It huge, dark gray, and overwhelming. “This is the clubhouse?”
“Yeah. It’s secure. Figured if any reporters are tailing you then they aren’t getting in here. If they approach the gate Mercy will put a boot in their ass.”
“All right. So…is this where you live, or do you stay at the cabin?”
“Fuck no. We got some rooms for when we need a crash pad, but no one lives here full time.”
“Go it.”
“I’ll take you to my place tonight.”
“And where is your place?”
“You’ll see.”
“Hmm,” I muse, wondering what to do with his vagueness.
I didn’t tell Diego, but Jesus came by my apartment after I was released from the hospital. I didn’t let him in. Not that I thought he’d try something Simply hearing his voice made me uneasy. I told him I that I forgave him and that I couldn’t be friends with him anytime soon. I didn’t forgive what transpired that night after the Morbid Duplicity show for him. I did it for me. I don’t want that negative energy tainting me.
I’m ready to move toward the future with Diego, whatever it may bring us.
I know that if people really knew our story, they wouldn’t understand but they aren’t meant to. I only know that I want to be with him.
As crazy as it sounds, I think I’m falling in love with him. His dark and tortured soul sings to mine. We’re kindred.
Diego laces his fingers through mine, and I know I would walk through fire with him, because I already have. He stops and turns into me. Those blue eyes pierce through me owning every piece of my body, mind, heart, and soul. Our lips meet, and I fade into him, realizing that our story is only just beginning.
Epilogue
—Diego
Three months later
“Yo, Diablo. You made another gossip show.” Freak shakes his head laughing and turns up the volume on the big screen that hangs over the bar.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath.
“The Heiress and her outlaw were spotted Friday night going for a ride, then dinner, and a movie. Their story sounds like something straight out of a novel or a Hollywood movie. Sybil White, who inherited her late father’s fashion company, Sybi Kids has been seen frequently with this man.” The show pans in on an image of me in my cut standing outside of a store smoking a cigarette while waiting on Sybil. That photo has been plastered online and in countess magazines. “Their love story took the world by storm when it was reported that Sybil had simply vanished. She was held hostage and tortured by another man and his accomplice. A notorious biker who was hired by former fashion model Consuela White, Sybil’s own stepmother in a murder for hire plot. Sybil White’s biker boyfriend uncovered the devious plan and rescued her. They moved in together one week after they met. The pair is inseparable.”
Shit. I wish they’d stop saying that shit. I didn’t save Sybil. She saved herself.
“Rumor has it that Diego “Diablo” Diaz has been spotted ring shopping. Could wedding bells be in the near future for fashion’s rebel princess and her outlaw? Stay tuned for our exclusive interview with the man who says he sold him the ring. We’ll be back after this commercial break with all the details.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. All that shit gives me a damn headache. “Turn that shit off.”
“When are you gonna put a ring on it?” Winnie questions like she doesn’t already fucking know. She probably had a dream about it last night.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
She tips her bottle back and takes a long pull ignoring me. I don’t miss the shit eating grin tugging on her lips though.
The clubhouse doors open and Sybil struts in looking so damn beautiful my heart squeezes tight in my chest. My girl fits perfectly into my world. Dressed in dark skinny jeans with holes in them and white boatneck shirt that hangs off her shoulders she makes me wanna throw her over my shoulder and take her to a room upstairs. Want those red lips wrapped around my cock, my fist wrapped up in her hair, hearing her moan as she deepthroats me.
“Hey, baby. C’mere and give me that mouth.” I push off my stool and meet her halfway.