Page 39 of Filthy Hot

Atomic chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands. I watch as he takes a step toward the messenger. The messenger tilts his head to the side, and just when I think he is possibly innocent, he grins.

“You agree to the terms, andtheywon’t die.”

“How will you take control of Sal’s if he’s dead?” Atomic asks.

The messenger shrugs his shoulder, his smile staying firmly planted on his lips, and then he chuckles. “I don’t know. I guess they’ll just have to figure that part out. But it would be a lot easier if Sal were out of the picture. The rest of you, too.”

Atomic leans forward slightly, wearing a smile of his own. “The Southern Mafia will never have a presence in Pineville. I don’t know if you’ve made your way into Texas anywhere else, but you won’t get into Pineville or any other city that we have a club presence in.”

“Is that a threat to the Southern Mafia?” he asks, not responding to the rest of what Atomic has said.

“That is a fucking promise,” I snap.

He doesn’t even look away from Atomic to me. He keeps his attention on Atomic and only Atomic. His focus is on the president of the club. And I realize that this man is not just some messenger.

He’s much bigger.

“You’re the leader of the Southern Mafia,” I state.

Only then does his gaze swing to meet mine. He narrows his eyes on me, curling his lip. He looks really fucking familiar. I just can’t put my finger on it. But I’ve seen him somewhere…

“What the fuck do you know?” he snaps.

I’ve hit the nail straight on the head. This man is the head of the organization, trying to pass himself off as just some simple messenger with no information. I would pull my gun on him, but I have a feeling there are men with their guns already trained on me hiding somewhere, because that’s what we would do for Atomic.

“I don’t pretend to know much,” I murmur. “But what I do know is that you’re the leader. And I want my woman back.”

He doesn’t say another word. I watch as he takes a step backward, then turns to look over his shoulder. I’m not sure if he’s sending some sort of signal to a man in the house, but I can only assume he is doing just that because in the next breath, five men walk out of the house, all wearing three-piece suits.

I could make fun of them for that, but they could make fun of us for our matching cuts, so I keep that shit to myself. All six men turn to face us. I’m sure they should look like some sort of formidable gang of men.

But to me, they appear silly as fuck.

KYLE

Matthew smilesas he shoves his phone into his pocket. His conversation was apparently finished. Xavier is pacing at the wall. I don’t know what the hell is going on, and I don’t want to know either. I could live my whole life without knowing what Xavier thinks ever again.

“Well, it seems as if your man and his friends have appeared at my boss’ place. Negotiations are happening imminently.”

Interesting.

Matthew isn’t the boss-boss.

Xavier takes a step forward. His chin inclines, and he looks down his nose at Matthew. “What the fuck are you saying?” he asks. “Negotiations?”

“You shut your fucking mouth,” Matthew snaps. “You’re lucky you’re still breathing.”

Xavier stomps his foot, crossing his arms over his chest like the child he is. “No,” he states. “You promised.”

“She is here. I promised you nothing more than I would get her here, and I have delivered.”

“She is mine to keep,” Xavier shouts.

I can’t stand it for another second. Not another moment. I cannot be forced to sit here and listen to them talk about me like I’m some kind of piece of furniture to shift around, to pass back and forth—to own.

“I am not yours. I am my own,” I shout.

Both men look at me, but it’s Matthew’s expression that causes my heart to jump. He’s smiling. It would be sexy, too, if he weren't so damn terrifying. He thinks this is funny. Xavier is probably ready to beat the absolute hell out of me, but I can’t look at him. It’s Matthew whose gaze I can’t shift away from.

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