Page 8 of Diesel (Iron Sentinels MC #5)

T he old path to Willow Creek Bridge felt longer than Sophie remembered. Each crunch of gravel beneath her flats echoed loud in her ears.

Dread curled tighter and tighter in her stomach. She forced herself onward, one foot in front of the other, even as her vision blurred and her heartbeat hammered so loud it drowned out thought.

When the bridge came into view, a rusted span of steel and wood half-hidden by overgrown tree, her breath caught. A black SUV sat parked near the entrance, engine off. Its glossy sides gleamed unnaturally bright in the filtered sunlight, too clean, too deliberate.

A cold shiver ran down Sophie’s spine. This was a trap. She inched closer, palms slick with sweat.

Then she saw two men flanked a battered folding chair in the center of the bridge.

Tom was in it. His arms were duct-taped to the armrests, ankles bound to the legs of the chair.

Blood matted one side of his gray hair. His mouth was gagged, but his wild and terrified eyes locked on her the second she appeared.

Sophie nearly collapsed with relief and horror all at once. Until one of the men who stood behind Tom pressed a gun hard against the side of his head. Her breath caught, panic squeezing her chest.

“Don’t move,” a voice drawled from the side.

She turned. A third man leaned against the SUV, arms crossed, a slow, amused smirk curling his lips.

He wore a tailored dark suit that looked entirely out of place here, sunglasses pushed up on his head, sharp cheekbones catching the light. His hair was slicked back, salt-and-pepper streaks gleaming silver.

This must be Victor Kane. Even without an introduction, she knew. Tom did warn her about him. The name felt like a punch to the ribs.

“You must be Sophie Hart,” Kane said casually, as if they were meeting at a luncheon. His voice was smooth, cultured, faintly accented. “I was hoping you’d come.”

Sophie swallowed hard, willing her shaking legs to hold her up.

“I’m here,” she managed. “Now let him go.”

Kane chuckled, a slow, condescending sound. “Ah. Straight to business. Admirable. Unfortunately, that’s not how this works,” Kane said.

He pushed off the SUV and sauntered toward her, the other two men never moving from their post. The one behind Tom kept the gun steady, expression blank. The second man stood nearby, watching her like a hawk.

Sophie’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst. Kane stopped a few feet in front of her, tilting his head.

“You’ve been a very stubborn little thorn in my side, Miss Hart.” He smiled, cold and sharp. “This shop ... this property ... it’s worth far more than you seem to understand.”

Her throat felt dry as sand. “You want to buy it? You should’ve made an offer like everyone else.”

His smile widened. “I did. Through intermediaries, through legal channels. You refused. Now we’re past pleasantries,” Kane said.

He gestured lazily toward Tom.

“Here’s the situation. Your friend has been uncooperative.” Kane crouched to Tom’s level, brushing a stray lock of hair from the older man’s bloodied brow. “Refusing to sell. Refusing to even discuss terms.”

He stood and faced Sophie again. “So now it falls to you,” Kane said.

Sophie’s breath caught. “What do you want?”

Kane’s eyes gleamed. “I want you to convince Mr. Barret to sign the property over. Today. Now. Or...” He glanced meaningfully at the man with the gun. “We finish this little transaction a different way.”

“No,” Sophie whispered, horror twisting in her gut.

“Yes,” Kane said softly. “Your choice, Miss Hart.”

She looked to Tom. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, eyes wild. Tears burned behind her eyelids. She wanted to scream, to fight. She wanted Diesel, but none of those things would help her right now.

Kane stepped closer, voice dropping to a silky purr. “You’re the only leverage we need, Sophie. You’re close to him. He won’t say no to you.”

Sophie dug her nails into her palms. “And if I refuse?” she asked.

Kane’s smile vanished. His eyes turned to ice. “Then we leave two bodies on this bridge.”

Her breath strangled in her throat.

What do I do? She couldn’t risk Tom, but giving Kane the property would only invite more danger, more violence.

“Tick-tock,” Kane murmured. “I suggest you choose quickly.”

Her mind raced. If she stalled, maybe Diesel would notice. Maybe the Sentinels would realize she was missing. Maybe—

“Sophie!” Tom managed through the gag, shaking his head desperately.

She blinked hard, fighting the tears.

Think. Think.

“I need to ... I need to talk to him,” she said, voice trembling. “Alone.”

Kane arched a brow. “Mmm. No.”

“Please.” She met his gaze, forcing all the desperation she felt into her expression.

Kane studied her for a long, tense moment. Then, with a bored sigh, he waved a hand.

“Fine. Two minutes.”

The man with the gun reluctantly stepped back a pace, though the weapon remained trained on Tom.

Sophie stumbled forward, heart racing, knees weak. She dropped to her knees in front of Tom, tears blurring her vision.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, ripping the gag from his mouth.

Tom gasped for air, voice hoarse. “Don’t you dare give it to them.”

“Tom—”

“I mean it, Soph.” His eyes burned. “You call Diesel. You call the club. You get the hell outta here.”

“I can’t leave you,” she said.

“Don’t be stupid. If you sell it, they’ll never stop. Never.”

A sob tore from her throat.

“Sophie!” Kane called, voice lilting with warning. “Time’s almost up.”

Her pulse thundered. She looked at Tom, at the gun, at the icy gleam in Kane’s eyes. She had seconds to decide, but help had to be coming. Diesel had to be coming. Please, Diesel, hurry.

****

D iesel had just finished grabbing a fresh cup of coffee when his phone buzzed hard against the worn wood of the clubhouse table.

He snatched it up, irritation already curling low in his gut.

He didn’t recognize the number, but it was one of Beast’s burner lines for the Sentinels. Something was wrong.

He answered immediately. “Diesel.”

A panicked voice came through. “It’s Jase. I was watchin’ her, swear to God, Diesel, but she’s gone.”

Ice hit Diesel’s veins. Gone? He tightened his grip on the phone so hard, he heard the plastic creak. “What the fuck do you mean gone?” he bit out.

“I stepped out to check a guy that was watching from the corner. I come back, the door’s open. She’s gone. There was a note left on the counter. I didn’t touch it, just saw it. Diesel, man, I think—”

“Shut up. Stay put. I’m coming,” Diesel practically growled out.

He ended the call and was on his feet in an instant, coffee forgotten, blood pounding loud in his ears. Fuck. The world blurred as he stalked toward his bike, rage building hot behind his ribs. If anything happened to his Sophie, he’d tear this whole damn town apart brick by brick.

By the time his Harley roared down the street toward her shop, he was barely holding it together. Every fiber of him screamed to lash out. Jase was pacing out front when he arrived, face pale.

Diesel cut the engine, boots hitting pavement hard as he stormed toward him.

“Where. Is. The. Note,” he growled out.

Jase backed up a step. “Inside. On the counter. Diesel, I swear...”

Diesel stalked past him, fists clenched, fighting the urge to put the kid through the damn window. He reeled in his temper. Not now. Focus.

Inside, the shop was empty. A single folded paper lay on the counter, stark against the polished wood. Diesel snatched it up, scanning it fast. No signature. Just ice-cold threat. He crumpled the paper in one massive fist, jaw clenched so hard it ached. Goddammit, Sophie. She’d gone alone.

He wanted to punch through the wall, but now wasn’t the time. He spun on his heel, shoving the note in his pocket.

“Jase!” he barked.

The young Sentinel jumped. “Yeah?”

“You’re coming with me. Get your ass on your bike. Now,” Diesel ordered.

Jase didn’t argue. The kid sprinted out the door. Diesel followed, mounting his Harley in one fluid motion. The engine roared to life beneath him like a living beast. As they tore down the road toward the bridge, Diesel forced himself to think past the anger.

Focus. Plan. Kane. It had to be Kane. The bastard Beast had warned them about.

Victor Kane was slick, connected, dangerous. Diesel had seen the man’s face in papers and MC intel sheets. Greedy fucker wanted that property bad, for some shit deal nobody’d yet uncovered. And now he’d made it personal. Real personal.

Diesel’s grip flexed on the handlebars. No way in hell was he letting that bastard hurt Sophie. Ahead, the turnoff to Willow Creek flashed past, narrow dirt road winding through thick trees.

He and Jase veered onto it, engines growling low as they approached. Diesel’s heart pounded harder with every foot of ground they covered. Hold on, sweetheart. I ’ m coming.

When the bridge came into sight, Diesel’s eyes narrowed like a hawk’s.

He killed the engine a good hundred feet back, raising a fist for Jase to stop. They rolled to silence. Diesel kicked the stand down and dismounted, eyes locked on the scene ahead.

There they were. Sophie stood frozen near the edge of the bridge. She looked pale, wide-eyed. Tom was bound to a chair, bloodied. Two guards. One with a gun pointed at Tom’s head. And front and center was Victor Kane.

The bastard himself, well-dressed as always, a sleek handgun now aimed right at Sophie’s chest. Rage detonated in Diesel’s gut. No time.

He gestured to Jase, silent and sharp. The kid nodded and started to circle wide through the trees.

Diesel moved fast and quiet, years of muscle memory kicking in. He crouched behind the rusted bridge supports, inching closer.

Kane’s voice carried, smug and calm. “Well, Miss Hart? Time to choose. Your life, his life, your pretty little shop ... what’s it worth to you?”

Sophie’s voice shook. “Please. Let him go. You don’t need to do this,” she pleaded.

Diesel saw the tremor in her hands, the raw fear in her eyes. And something inside him snapped clean in two. Nobody threatened his girl. Not ever. He rose in a blur of motion.

“Hey!” Diesel yelled.

The shout cracked through the air like a gunshot.

Every head turned. Kane’s, the guards’, Sophie’s. Diesel was already moving. Kane shifted his gun toward him, but it was too late.

Diesel’s massive frame hit him like a truck. Crack! The gun went flying. Kane slammed into the bridge rail with a choked curse.

One guard fired but it went wild. The shot whizzed past Diesel’s shoulder. He roared and closed the distance in a flash. One punch and the guard went down cold, nose shattered. The other guard spun toward Sophie.

Diesel didn’t think, he acted. Two shots from Jase’s sidearm took the bastard down. The kid had circled in perfect time. Diesel didn’t stop. He grabbed Kane by the collar and dragged him back to center bridge, slamming him hard against the steel rail.

“You just fucked with the wrong woman, asshole,” Diesel growled, voice thick with fury.

Kane spat blood, tried to sneer, but Diesel saw the fear behind his eyes now.

“Go ahead,” Kane gasped. “Kill me and you’ll only—”

Diesel’s fist drove deep into the bastard’s gut, cutting off the rest.

Sophie ran to Tom, sobbing. “I’ve got you, Tom, I’ve got you,” she whispered, hands working frantically at the duct tape.

Jase covered them, gun up, scanning for any more threats.

Diesel locked eyes with Kane, then slowly drew his knife, gleaming sharp in the morning light.

He leaned close, voice like steel. “You threatened the wrong woman. You’re done.”

And with one brutal slash, he ended it. He slashed the blade across Kane’s throat, fast and clean. The bastard gurgled, eyes wide, life spilling out between trembling fingers.

Diesel stepped back, chest heaving. It was over. Tom was free. Kane was dead. Sophie was safe. “Jase, call the club. Tell them to send the clean-up crew,” Diesel ordered.

“You got it, Diesel,” Jase said with a nod.

He dropped the blade and strode to Sophie’s side.

“You all right, sweetheart?” Diesel asked, voice rough

Sophie looked up, tear-streaked and shaking, but she was alive. She launched into his arms without hesitation, clutching his cut, face pressed to his chest. Diesel held her tight, burying his nose in her hair.

“You scared the shit outta me,” he muttered. “Never do that again.”

“I had to,” she whispered. “Tom...”

“I know. But next time, we deal with shit together.”

She nodded, trembling. Jase freed Tom fully and called in for MC cleanup.

Diesel didn’t let Sophie go, not for a second.