Page 119 of The Chemist

The man and woman’s heads snapped toward Diesel’s voice, startled.

Without stopping, Diesel plowed into the man, punching him hard across his jaw. The man fell to the ground with a grunt, and Diesel fell on top of him.

Fifteen years’ worth of rage came pouring out of Diesel. The world around him went silent. Nothing seemed to matter except beating the shit out of the man trapped beneath his body.

“Hey, get off of him, you piece of shit!” the woman shouted, bending over and slapping Diesel hard on his back.

Diesel barely felt it.

Pleasure flooded Diesel’s system every time his knuckles connected with the moist flesh of the man’s face. It was like he had found a new way of getting high. Each punch, each connection, sent a new surge of endorphins into Diesel’s brain.

After getting in a few more solid shots, Diesel finally stood, giving the man one last kick to the ribs.

The man stared up at Diesel, lip bleeding, eyes terrified.

Good. He should be scared, Diesel thought to himself.

He felt a steady hand touch his shoulder, knowing immediately that it belonged to the man he loved like a father. Matteo gently pulled Diesel back by his side.

The woman crouched by the man, caressing his face as she checked him over to see what injuries he had sustained.

There was so much love in her touch. So much compassion. It made Diesel sick.

When the woman was convinced that the man would survive, she snapped her head up at Diesel.

“You! Animal! I’m going to—” Her voice suddenly caught in her throat, like an animal that suddenly spotted a predator. “Diesel?” the woman asked, her anger suddenly changing to confusion as she stood guard over the bleeding man lying next to her. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me, you fucking bitch,” Diesel snarled, wanting to administer so much pain to the woman but not wanting to getmore blood on his suit. He figured it was an acceptable loss getting his stepfather’s blood on his Tom Ford suit—lord knows the man deserved it—but he drew the line at adding pathetic, alcoholic, piece of shit, mother’s blood to the mix.

“But… but, you look all fancy and shit,” the woman commented, suddenly losing her French accent and slowly standing up on her feet.

“Yes, I often look fancy… andshit,” Diesel responded, mimicking his mother’s crude speech, “…when I go to the opera with my family.”

“He also looks devilishly handsome when attending many of the galas and parties he hosts at the château where we all live,” Matteo added, wrapping his arm protectively around Diesel’s shoulder.

Diesel had never felt so loved and cared for before in his life.

“Little D? Is that you? Thought you were dead in a gutter somewhere,” his stepfather added, sitting up and wiping the blood off his lower lip.

“No. Thanks to you assholes, I now live in a castle, make mad money, and have the most amazing and supportive family a guy could ever ask for.” Diesel nodded toward Levi and the other guys. “Not to mention, I have a smoking hot man by my side.”

Zero slipped his arm around Diesel’s waist, fighting for a position next to him and Matteo.

The two most important men in his life, each standing on either side of him.

His mother’s mouth remained open as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing.

“But… I…” She didn’t seem to have the words, most likely from years of drinking and bad mothering.

He really hated this fucking woman.

“Is everything okay?” a police officer asked, stepping up next to Isaac.

“No, Officer. These two are thieves. This woman tried to distract my father, while this man bumped into him and stole his wallet.”

The officer glared at the two.

“That’s bullshit. That fucker just attacked me for no reason,” his stepfather argued, holding up his finger smeared with blood.

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