Page 222 of Remiss

“Reb?”

As if she’d conjured him, Diesel sauntered into view. He’d come up the grand staircase, the kind Rebel wanted in her house. She couldn’t do minimalism. What good was wealth without flaunting it?

Glancing toward one of the recently installed cameras, then over his shoulder at his bedroom door, he remained in his spot.

Another thing someone needed to get for the second floor hallway? A fucking clock. Rebel suspected it was at least noon o’clock. He should be at work, instead of looking so dangerous and badass in his jeans and cut.

She tottered forward at a slow, painful pace. He didn’t move to help her. Rebel knew it was because of those fucking cameras. “Don’t you have a case to argue?” she asked when she reached him. “Or are you on lunchbreak?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked so very sad. “I had an errand with Aunt Meggie. It’s nearly two, by the way.”

Well, fuck. This hallway wasn’t the only place in need of a clock.Orshe could’ve just worn one of her watches. But she’d gone downstairs, intending to go to the natatorium, and hadn’t been able to cross the sill. Then, she’d texted Kaia because she wanted to see him. He wasn’t at the house. She went to the bedroom Diesel brought her to the night Daddy lost his fucking mind and fell asleep.

“Is Momma in her room or in the kitchen?”

“Aunt Meggie took my car to go visit Jo.”

Rebel nodded. “What’s wrong?”

His smile faltered. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he glanced away. “Nothing, sweetheart.”

“You’re a fucking liar. Now, tell me the truth, Diesel. Why do you look like you’ve lost your best friend?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he told her in a thick voice.

As if he would cry at any moment.

Rebel had seen Diesel in so many different forms, many of them infuriating, but she’d never seen him quite as vulnerable.

She started to hug him, then halted and looked up. “I’m just comforting my brother, Daddy,” she said, then hugged Diesel tightly. He buried his nose in her neck, wrapped his arms around her, and shuddered. “Talk to me.Now. Who do we have to kill?”

“Me, Rebel,” he said hoarsely. “And who’s we?”

“Daddy, Axel, and me. What the fuck do you mean we have to kill you?”

Diesel straightened. His wet cheeks horrified her. Grabbing his hand, she nodded toward a hallway bench, leaning against him because her fucking leg and foot was throbbing. She’d probably overexerted herself.

Once Diesel helped her to the bench and sat next to her, he put his elbows on his knees and hung his head.

“Did you kill Tabitha? Of course, why the fuck would you want to kill yourself over her? That bitch needs fucking up.”

Silence, and then, “I killed my father, Rebel.”

She allowed those words to turn over in her head, narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips. Thought really hard about all the times Diesel defended that motherfucker. “He got what he deserved,” she decided.

“You don’t even know why.”

“I don’t need to. You’ve always given him a pass. If you killed him, he deserved it.”

“I was so fucking wrong. I shouldn’t have gone there. I’ve known where he might live for several years, though I pretended I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if it was him, so it was just easier. When I went there Monday, I decided to knock. To see if it was him. I missed you and Aunt Meggie so much and I was so afraid she wouldn’t come back. I just wanted to ask how had he survivedmy mother’s desertion for those few months he tried to continue on as normal. I shouldn’t have gone,” he repeated dully.

“Yes, you should have,” Rebel told him. “You needed closure. But how the fuck did you go from wanting to ask a simple question to that motherfucker being dead? And has Daddy talked to you?”

“I haven’t told him. I couldn’t—”

“I doubt you have to,” she said gently. “He tracks us. He probably knows where you went. You need to talk to him. You’re his son. He’ll help you.”

“I want to talk to Aunt Meggie.”