Page 6 of Filthy Secret

Ignoring Ellen’s messages, I go straight to his.

GOLDEN: TICK TOCK BITCH. THIRTY GRAND BY FRIDAY OR YOUR ASS IS WORKING ON THE STREET.

What a fucking dick. I hate him. I hate Ellen. I hate myself. I want to hate Atomic for not helping me, but he’s probably the only person I don’t hate in this scenario. Because I am the one who did him wrong. I’m the one who left him. He hurt me, but I hurt him, too, so I’m sure that at the end of the day, I did worse than him.

Something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I shift my attention to the house next door. I see him making his way toward me. He’s seen my car and smiles widely as he rushes to greet me.

Opening the car door, I hold out my arms for him as he slams into me for a hug. He takes my breath away, but not in a bad way. Adam is perfection personified. I love everything about him, and he keeps me sane and calm.

I live for him.

“I missed you,” he whispers against my ear.

Shifting my head back slightly, I cup his little cheeks with my hands. “Did you?” I ask. “I was only gone for a few hours.”

He wrinkles his little nose, letting out a giggle. “I know, but it felt like forever.”

“It did,” I agree, then I wrap my arms around him again, a little tighter.

I’m going to have to let him go. Everything inside of me is screaming not to do that, but I can’t keep him safe any longer. Climbing out of the car, I take his hand in mine and wave to Mrs. Scott, ensuring to thank her for picking Adam up from school and watching him for a few hours.

Together, we make our way inside our tiny place. Locking the door behind me, I ask Adam about his day at school. He tells me what happened in detail, but I’m only half listening. I’m far too distracted with what’s about to come my way to focus on any one thing fully.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I let out a heavy sigh. Taking it out, I look at the notification and see it’s another text from Golden Joker. Holding my breath for a moment, I slide my thumb across the screen.

GOLDEN: YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE ME A LOT OF FUCKING MONEY WITH THAT ASS OF YOURS.

I have never hated anyone before. Not really. I never allowed myself to have that kind of feeling inside of myself. That negativity. But I hate this man. Hate him. After letting out a sigh, I scroll through and find Ellen’s texts so I can read them.

ELLEN: I’m sorry.

ELLEN: If you do this, you’ll be saving my life.

ELLEN: You think you’re so much better than me. You’re nothing but a cunt.

ELLEN: I didn’t mean that. I’m just scared.

ELLEN: He’s going to kill me. Please, Ry-Ry.

ELLEN: Call me, please.

I think about calling her, mainly because I can hear her pleading voice in my head, but I don’t. I have to come up with a plan, with something that is going to save not just me but Adam, too. I don’t think there is anything, though.

I’m going to end up an elementary school secretary who hooks at night. The idea makes me want to throw up. I have never sold my body for anything. In fact, I haven’t even been with anyone in three years. I dated a man when Adam was three. He was a very nice teacher at the elementary school, but I realized that my focus needed to be on Adam and only Adam.

Maybe one day, I’ll be able to find love. But I’m not ready for that. I’m not in the right place for it, and I don’t deserve it.

CHAPTER

THREE

ATOMIC

March is not my favorite month. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel off. Maybe it’s the weather being unstable. Maybe it’s the fact that I am still fucking thinking about Ryan. I don’t know, but I feel fucking uneasy about a lot of shit.

Looking down at the paperwork in front of me, I can’t help but smile at the sight of the club growing. A club from a small town outside of Dallas has taken over the stable from the Nomad Kings MC, and fuck me, but it’s only been a month, and we’re making a goddamn killing just on our percentage, which is pretty low.

This means that the club is making some real fucking money. I know money is in skin, but I never imagined it would be quite that lucrative. Although, I have a feeling they’re moving toward something more than just streetwalkers. Maybe it's more of a call-girl situation. Which would be better for our reputation on the whole as a club anyway.

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