“You’re disbarred! Closing arguments are fixed. You got to do them.Youtold me that, motherfucker.”
Diesel gnashed his teeth together. “I want a fucking drink, Axel. I want to finish preparing Knox’s drink.”
CJ smiled at Axel. “C’mon, big head. You have a presentation to make downstairs. Remember?”
“I see how it is,” Axel said morosely and hung his head. “You want to shove me down the toilet, ‘cause you’re tired of me, Diesel.”
“Of course he isn’t,” CJ rushed out, looking at Diesel for confirmation, but that motherfucker was glaring at Axel.
“Are you trying to guilt me into finishing?”
Axel straightened. “Is it working?”
“No.”
“So, you want me sad and crying, D.?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Axel. Here’s the fucking closing argument.”
“I’m not the jury, Diesel.” Axel backed away and pointed at CJ, Ransom, and Ryder. “They are. Stop addressing me. You can be fined for trying to influence the defense prosecution.”
Diesel fucking growled, not that Christopher blamed him. He wanted to fucking growl, too. Next time, he’d tell Knox to fuck off and leave Axel to tell the motherfucker off when there were less people around. It would go quicker that way.
“Knock, knock,” Rebel said merrily, making her way in and using her crutches for once.
If possible, Diesel’s glower deepened.
“Reb!” Axel yelled, running to her and hugging her as if he hadn’t seen her in ten fucking years.
“This is the mancave, Rebel,” Diesel snapped. “Since when did you become a man?”
“The same day you became a dog, fuckface.”
“Burn, D.,” Ryder crowed.
“Uncles, cousins.” Rebel’s wave encompassed the room. “Daddy. Brothers.” She looked at Diesel.
“What do you want, Rebel?” he asked her. “If you’re counting me as your brother, you want something.”
She made a face at him. “Actually, I do. The champagne I saw you with earlier.”
“That’s for Jana and me, and it’s safely in my room. Anything else?”
“Can we have that bottle and you buy another one for her and you?” she asked.
“No,” Diesel growled.
“How about this, Dee? You buymea bottle?”
Diesel glanced at Christopher, either because he wanted permission or guidance.Orhe was trying to gauge if Christopherwould shoot him if he bought Rebel alcohol. It didn’t matter if Christopher and Megan allowed her to drink. She wastheirdaughter. While Christopher wanted to believe Diesel had gotten fucking sense regarding Rebel, he wasn’t convinced, which would make the optics of what she proposed so much worse.
“Can you?” she persisted, so fucking spoiled and hardheaded she just wanted her fucking way. “Please?”
Christopher shook his head.
“One bottle,” Rebel pressed, laser focused on Diesel and not paying attention to Christopher.
“Jesus, I’d fucking shoot myself if I had a daughter,” Val said, low enough to be heard only by Christopher, Mortician, and Stretch.
