“Dude, good to see you.” Cowboy offered a hand and pulled Diesel closer, but not too close, clapping him on the back. “I heard you weren’t coming back for a while.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. This isn’t a social visit. Is your old man around?”

“Yeah, he and my mom are at the north barn, checking on the rescues we got in last night.”

Diesel nodded and headed back to his bike.

“Hey, D,” Cowboy called after him, and Diesel turned, jaw tight. “Anything I can do?”

“No. Thanks.”

“If you’re sticking around and want to hang with us later, we’ll be at the Roadhouse.”

Diesel nodded again and climbed on his bike. He drove toward the north barn to talk with the people who had always been there for him and his mother. To the man who had mentored him in more ways than he could count. He fucking hoped they hadn’t lied to him, too.

He found Tiny and Wynnie in the barn with Doc, discussing the sickly horses in the nearby stalls. Diesel’s questions suddenly seemed almost pointless compared to animals that were probably on the verge of death and had been rescued from God knew what kind of hell.

“Diesel,” Doc said with surprise. He was tall and fit, not burly like his brothers, a real charmer, and he looked the part in a dark blue Henley as he raked a hand through his short brown hair.

He lifted his chin in acknowledgment. “Doc.” Tiny’s serious expression told Diesel that unlike Doc, Tiny and Wynnie already knew why he was there. Diesel was thankful Doc hadn’t been clued in. He didn’t need everyone’s nose in his business.

“Sweet darlin’, it’s so good to see you.” Wynnie came toward him with open arms, layered blond hair bouncing above the shoulders of her yellow top. She gave him a quick embrace and kissed his cheek, worry hovering in her eyes.

Her familiar scent should have brought comfort, but the idea that he might have been lied to stood between them like a villain, and he couldn’t muster any degree of warmth.

“We’ve missed you, son.” Tiny stood eye to eye with Diesel, his gruff voice carrying a slightly cautious edge. He wore a familiar red bandanna tied around his forehead, and a Dark Knights T-shirt stretched over his gut.

Diesel swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “You and Wynnie got a minute?”

“Always. Let’s step outside.” Tiny lifted his chin in the direction of the barn doors. “We’ll be right back, Doc.”

Diesel’s gut knotted. His heart hammered against his chest as he followed Tiny and Wynnie out of the barn, the pictures burning a hole in his pocket. There was a part of him that didn’t want the answers he sought, but he needed them.