He owed her an apology, but suppose Axel was right? How much was too much for her before she left again?
Fuck, that was just a fucking excuse. He’d apologize to her and promise to do better. No need for Axel to give him a gift to open that would…?
Diesel didn’t know. Unless it was a fucking homemade bomb in a box, he couldn’t imagine a present harming him.
Laughing at Axel’s naïveté, Diesel opened the shower door and turned on the water. He’d school his little brother and tell him warnings diluted the punishments.
Stepping onto the black marble and closing the door behind him, he slid, somehow managing not to fall. Standing still, he ignored the water sluicing over his head and down his body and glanced around, squinting at how shiny the shower base looked.
He backed from under the spray, and teetered, flailing his arms to save himself from a nasty fall.
“Motherfucker!” he snarled, bracing his hands against one of the glass panels.
What the fuck was going on?
Breathing heavily, he considered his question, seeking an answer. Maybe someone cleaned it and hadn’t washed away all the soap.
Wondering if his nose was stopped up, he sniffed. No pungent chlorine, ammonia, or vinegar assaulted his nostrils. What the fuck had he slid in? Afraid to move from the spot he stood in and fall on his ass, he grabbed his shampoo. After washing his hair, he poured conditioner on then took his soap and rubbed it over his body.
He tipped forward and slid again. “FUCK!” he roared.
Too fucking annoyed to remember the shit in his hair, it leaked into his eyes, burning them like a motherfucker. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“I hate this fucking day!”
Furious, he tipped his head back to rinse his eyes and take away the sting. Unfortunately, his closed eyes disoriented him and he slid forwardagain. This time, he couldn’t find purchase and slapped the marble, ass first, jolting him. Gearing up for another battle, he allowed the shower to wash away the last of the soap and conditioner before he reengaged with his invisible foe.
If he had to crawl out of the shower, he’d keep that shit to himself forever. However, he had to get the fuck out of this motherfucker some kind of way. Determined to do so with a little dignity, he lifted himself to his knees, gripped the safety bar, and stood.
“Yes!” he said, laughing in victory and letting go, slidingagain.
He latched on quickly and walked out very gingerly. Once his life was no longer in fucking danger, he’d figure out how to turn the shower off.
Little by little, he crept forward. An eternity later, he opened the shower door, laughing again, so fucking happy that his ordeal was almost over.
Proud of himself, he stepped onto…nothis fucking mat.
Thankfully, instead of slipping on his ass and cracking his fucking head, he skidded in a trail of…something. He wasn’t sure what the fuck it was, but it brought him right the fuck to the door. Grabbing that lifeline, he slipped, slapped, and slid, determined to reach his bedroom and figure out what the fuck was on his fucking floor. And then he’d fucking kill Ax.
Without a doubt, this was that little motherfucker’s gift to Diesel.
Winning the battle to reach his bedroom turned into a short-lived victory, resembling a fucking slapstick comedian in his effort not to fall. That was a big fat fucking failure. Losingthe fucking battle, he landed flat on his fucking belly in a fucking pool of oil.
Fuck this. He’d get his phone on the bed and call Bishop to bring hot water and bleach.
On his hands and knees, Diesel started to crawl, still slipping and sliding, but not as vulnerable to a serious injury.
WHOOSH!
Before Diesel turned and identified the source of that sound, a belt cracked across his wet, oily ass.
He howled.
“Don’t fuck with Mom, Diesel,” Axel snarled from behind him, hitting him again. And again. And again.
Screaming, Diesel tried to lift himself up to run, but he kept falling on his ass because of that fucking oil. He was so fucking shocked and panicked, he couldn’t even manage to pull himself to his hands and knees. He fucking belly-flopped to the door, screaming the entire fucking way.
By the time he reached the hallway and could stand because that miserable little fuckhead hadn’t oiled it, Rebel, Ransom, CJ, and Ryder were there.
