Page 7 of Diesel (Iron Sentinels MC #5)

D iesel woke before the sun. It wasn’t habit, not this time. It was instinct. Years of sleeping light, ready to spring at the first wrong sound. But this morning, when his eyes opened, it wasn’t the hum of danger that greeted him. It was warmth. A small, soft body curled against his chest.

Sophie.

For a moment, Diesel didn’t move. Just lay there, still as stone, soaking in the impossible fact of her in his arms. The way her bare leg tangled with his. The weight of her palm resting against his ribs. The faint scent of flowers and sugar in her hair.

It hit him then, harder than any punch. He hadn’t run. He’d stayed. Some part of him, buried deep under years of walls and scars, wanted to stay right here forever.

He exhaled slowly, careful not to wake her. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, and when he tightened it a fraction, she sighed in her sleep and burrowed closer with a soft little hum.

Damn, but she felt good against him. Perfect. Diesel shut his eyes, fighting a surge of something fierce and protective. He hadn’t known he was capable of feeling this way again, not since his sister. Not since the night that had torn so much out of him.

But here he was, holding this stubborn, beautiful woman like she was the last good thing he’d ever touch, and maybe she was. He opened his eyes again and looked down at her.

The morning light was just starting to creep in through the curtains, painting her skin in soft gold. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, her lips parted slightly in sleep. God, she was beautiful. Not in a polished, perfect way, but in a way that made something inside him ache.

Diesel brushed his knuckles across her cheek, light as a breath. Couldn’t help it. She stirred at the touch, eyelashes fluttering open. For one hazy moment, her gaze was soft with sleep, unfocused. Then her eyes found his.

A slow smile curved her lips. “You stayed,” she whispered, voice rough with sleep.

He swallowed hard. His throat felt thick.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “I stayed.”

She shifted slightly, her hand sliding up to rest over his heart, fingers splaying against his skin. That simple touch nearly unraveled him.

“I’m glad,” she murmured, gaze steady on his. No fear. No regret. Just quiet certainty.

Diesel let out a rough breath and pressed his forehead to hers.

“You shouldn’t be,” he whispered. “I ain’t good at this, Sophie.”

She smiled, small and sure. “You’re doing just fine.”

Goddamn woman. He closed his eyes for a beat, drawing strength from her calm. When he opened them again, she was still watching him with that same gentle look. Like she could see through every shield he tried to put up.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he muttered.

Her smile widened just a little. “You’re one to talk.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. First time he’d laughed in what felt like forever. They lay there a while longer, neither in a rush to move. The world outside the walls of her apartment could burn for all he cared in that moment.

Eventually, she shifted again, stretching like a cat. The sheet slid down her body, baring smooth skin and tempting curves that made Diesel’s pulse hammer.

“Careful,” he growled low. “You keep moving like that and I won’t let you outta this bed all day.”

A flush crept up her cheeks, but her eyes sparkled. “Maybe I don’t want to get out.”

Fuck. It took everything he had to rein himself in. He rolled slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at her. His free hand skimmed her side, reverent.

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” he said, voice low and rough. “I want you. More than I should. But this ... it’s more than that. You get that, right?”

Her breath caught. She reached up and traced his jaw with her fingertips, eyes serious now.

“I know,” she whispered. “And I want more too. But you have to stop running from it.”

Diesel swore softly and leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, her cheek, her mouth. Slow and deep this time, no battle in it, just truth.

“I’m trying, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips. “God help me, I’m trying.”

She kissed him back just as slow, her hands sliding into his hair. When they finally broke apart, her stomach gave a small, traitorous growl. Diesel chuckled again and brushed her hair back from her face.

“Guess I better feed you before you waste away,” he said.

She laughed, cheeks pink. “You can cook?”

He arched a brow. “I can manage breakfast. You trust me?”

Her smile was soft, sure. “I trust you.”

Damn, if those three little words didn’t land like a punch straight to his heart. He pressed one last kiss to her temple and reluctantly slipped from the bed, tugging on his jeans.

As he padded toward the kitchen, he glanced back once. She lay tangled in the sheets, watching him with a look that shook him to the core. Not lust. Not gratitude. Care. Real, dangerous care. For the first time in years, Diesel thought maybe he could be a man worthy of it.

****

M orning light spilled across the streets of Steelhaven as Diesel pulled the truck to a slow stop outside Petal & Stem. The engine idled low, thrumming under Sophie’s feet like a restless animal.

She sat in the passenger seat, fingers twisted tightly in her lap. She hadn’t said much during the drive back. Sophie was too full of restless energy, her heart still tangled up in what had happened between them the night before.

Now, staring at the familiar brick facade of her shop, the dread returned. Diesel shifted the truck into “park” and glanced at her. His jaw was tight, a faint furrow between his brows. She could see it. He didn’t want to let her go.

“Beast said another Sentinels member will be posted nearby,” she reminded softly, trying to sound steadier than she felt. “I’ll be fine.”

Diesel’s knuckles flexed on the steering wheel. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“I know.” She touched his arm. “But you’ve got club business, right? I can’t ask you to babysit me all day.”

Diesel gaze’s sharpened at that. “Not babysitting, Sophie. Protecting,” he corrected.

The quiet intensity of those words made her breath hitch. Without another word, Diesel reached for her, cupping the side of her face with one large, calloused hand.

He leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. It wasn’t rushed or rough, but full of silent meaning. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark.

“Be careful. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” she promised him.

“Anything feels off, you call me. No hesitation.”

She nodded, heart thumping against her ribs. “I promise.”

Still, he hesitated, thumb brushing her cheek once more before he finally let her go. She grabbed her bag and slid out of the truck. The engine rumbled low as Diesel watched her cross the sidewalk.

Even as she unlocked the shop’s door and slipped inside, she could feel his gaze burning between her shoulder blades. The moment the door clicked shut behind her and the little bell chimed, Sophie exhaled a shaky breath.

She was alone. Or ... mostly. Beast had sent someone to watch from a distance, but still. The nerves stayed sharp.

Pushing aside the twisting knot in her gut, she turned on the lights, bathing the shop in soft warmth. Sunbeams caught on glass vases and colorful petals. The sweet, familiar scents of roses and eucalyptus wrapped around her, normally a comfort.

But not today. Today, something felt wrong. She couldn’t place it. It was just a prickle at the base of her neck, a faint tension in the air that refused to fade.

Sophie shook her head, forcing herself to move through her usual opening routine. She flicked on the espresso machine in the back, watered the new shipment of tulips, adjusted the front window display. The unease only grew.

She tried to shake it off as residual nerves. After everything with Brandon, with the club, with Diesel, it wasn’t surprising she felt on edge.

It wasn’t until she returned to the front counter that her blood ran cold. A plain, unmarked envelope sat there. Right in the middle of her workspace.

Sophie froze. She hadn’t seen it when she came in, and no one else had entered the shop. Her pulse spiked. With trembling fingers, she picked up the envelope, her throat dry. Inside, a single sheet of paper. Blocky letters, scrawled in heavy black ink:

TOM HAS BEEN TAKEN.

IF YOU WANT TO SEE HIM ALIVE, COME ALONE TO WILLOW CREEK brIDGE AT 11.

NO SENTINELS. NO MC.

OR HE DIES.

The paper fluttered in her hands as her breath left her in a rush. Tom. Oh God, Tom. For a few seconds, her mind blanked with pure, raw panic. Then the words sharpened again, hammering into her skull.

Come alone. No Sentinels. No MC. Her first instinct was to grab her phone, to call Diesel. No, to call Beast, the cops, anyone who could help. But then another thought hit her like a gut punch. Tom.

If they were watching, if she tipped anyone off ... they would kill Tom. She briefly touched her phone screen with her fingers. Then, with a shaking breath, she forced them away.

Her stomach twisted painfully, guilt already sinking in. Diesel would lose his mind if he knew she was keeping this from him. The Sentinels outside would be furious.

But none of that mattered if they hurt Tom. She owed Tom everything. Her first job, her start here in Steelhaven, the damn shop itself. She couldn’t let him down. Biting back tears, Sophie grabbed her bag and stuffed the note inside. Her hands were trembling so badly she fumbled the zipper twice.

She scribbled a quick CLOSED sign and hung it on the door.

One last glance out the window showed the street empty, quiet. The Sentinels member on guard duty wasn’t visible. He was probably parked nearby, watching from down the block.

I ’ m sorry, Diesel. Clutching her bag, heart racing, Sophie slipped out the side door instead and darted through the alley, moving fast. Every footstep echoed too loud in her ears. She felt like she was moving through molasses, each breath ragged. Doubt clawed at her with every step.

Was this a trap? Would they really let Tom go? Was she about to walk into something she couldn’t survive? Still, one thing drowned it all out. She couldn’t not go.

Willow Creek Bridge wasn’t far. Secluded, half-abandoned. A perfect place for something like this.

By the time Sophie reached the edge of the woods where the path led down to the old bridge, her legs were shaking.

The sun was climbing higher now, casting sharp shadows through the trees. Every branch seemed to creak with menace. Still, she kept going. Tom needed