Page 69 of Filthy Secret

“You know I will.”

Leaving the kitchen, I head straight for the room where Ellen is being held. I haven’t asked her where this pimp is yet, and she wouldn’t answer me without being prodded either. It’s time to prod.

The prospect standing guard at her door jerks his chin as I unlock and open it before stepping inside. Ellen is sitting in the corner, shaking as she scratches at her arms. The room smells like piss and vomit. That doesn’t surprise me since she hasn’t had any drugs. She’s detoxing already.

“Where is he?” I demand.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I look down my nose into her face. She narrows her gaze on me as she looks up. “I don’t have to tell you shit,” she snarls.

“No,” I agree. “You don’t.”

“But?” she asks when I don’t say anything else.

Watching her, I wonder what the fuck went wrong. I know she’s been on drugs, but I’m not even talking about that. She was beautiful eleven years ago when she walked into our clubhouse and decided she wanted to stay.

But Ryan had the same upbringing as Ellen and didn’t end up on my floor, looking like warmed-over fucking death. Detoxing from whatever poisonous shit is flowing through her veins. And judging by the way she appears, I’m going to guess she ain’t just doing a little blow and weed.

“But you’ll both die anyway. It’ll just be a slower and more painful death for you if you don’t tell me.”

“Bullshit,” she grinds out.

Shaking my head slowly, I crouch down in front of her. Fuck, she already smells half-dead. I would be doing her a goddamn favor to end her here and now. I should just fucking do it and be done with her ass, but if she’s going to help me out with finding that pimp, I’m going to welcome that.

“Fuck you, Atomic… oh, wait,” she says with a wide smile. “I already did. I seem to recall how much you loved my pussy, my ass, and my mouth. Why don’t you send in Ryan so I can give her some pointers on what you really like?”

My lips curve up into a smile, and I snort. “Bitch, you think you can piss me off, that you can rattle me? You can’t. What you’re talking about was a fucking lifetime ago. Don’t tell me you enjoy being tortured.”

Standing, I turn to walk away. I wrap my fingers around the handle of the door and start to turn it before I tug it open, and that’s when she decides she doesn’t want to be tortured. She calls out for me, and I face her again.

“He’s staying at the motel near the warehouses. He’s been watching your every move.”

Instead of responding to her in any way whatsoever, I continue walking through the door, closing and locking it behind me, giving the prospect a reminder that he isn’t to open it for anything. Absolutely fucking any reason at all.

Then I head straight for my bike outside. King is there, along with a dozen brothers. We’re done. Completely and totally done with this shit. Inhaling a deep breath, I hold it as I climb onto my bike.

“Do you know where he is?” King asks.

“Motel by the warehouse. Let’s fucking go,” I grind out.

“Let’s goooo,” Brew calls out.

We climb on our bikes, strapped down with at least two guns and two knives each, ready to take down this fucking low-life piece-of-shit pimp and whoever he has with him because I know he’s not man enough to come here alone.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

ATOMIC

“What the actual fuck?” King hisses behind me.

Turning my head, I look over to him. “What?” I ask.

“This place is abandoned. There’s no fucking way this is where he’s staying.”

He’s right. Except there are two tricked-out SUVs parking in spots in front of the building. I’m going to light those SUVs on fire when this is done. There is no way in fuck that any one of those assholes or their cars are surviving this shit.

“Yeah, it is,” I murmur. “This is exactly where a piece of shit would make his men stay, probably women, too, who the fuck knows.”

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