Page 71 of Filthy Hot

It’s King’s turn to laugh. “We don’t give a fuck where you stay or go, as long as you’re nowhere near us, near our club, or our women. Keep your fucking shit to your goddamn self. I think we’ve made that really goddamn clear more than once.”

Talon tilts his head to the side. “And I’ve told you more than once that the club is mine. I want my dues.”

Atomic takes a step forward. “That shit is not going to happen,” he growls. “If you want a full-blown war, you can have it, but those bitches we have aren’t coming home, and none of you will survive it. We are not playing games here, Talon.”

I watch as Talon’s eyes widen. I’ve suspected he was bluffing most of this time, but seeing the expression flash across his face, I’m convinced. I whistle, a sharp, quick note, then I go for it. Because fuck him. Fuck Xavier. Fuck the whole crew.

Lifting my hand, I point the gun at Talon’s forehead and shoot. He goes down within seconds, blood and brain matter flying everywhere, but my focus is not on him. It’s on Xavier.

The girls are screaming and running, but Rim grabs them and shoves them against the wall. Dennis stands in place, appearing as if he’s about to piss his pants, which, if I looked down, he probably already has.

I point my gun at Xavier’s head while all of the other men around me do whatever it is they’re doing with the others in the room. Probably searching for more men, who the fuck knows, but my focus is this man in front of me.

This dumb motherfucker who thought he could continue to abuse my woman.

She’s not his, not anymore.

“Got a bone to pick with you.” I keep my voice as calm as possible. “But I want to take my time with you, so you’re coming with us.” He opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head once, my face set hard. “Don’t fucking talk unless I ask you a question.”

I hear laughter behind me, and I know that voice. It’s Nash. “Looks like we had a fun but short party. Property is clear,” he states.

“Good,” King grunts. “We got three girls here, but we need to look for Sal. I think he might be upstairs.”

“We’re on it.”

Bootsteps trample up the staircase, but it’s Rim who asks if he can help me. “Put this fuck in the truck and drive him to the clubhouse. Lock him in the warehouse outside.”

And everyone knows what that means. Because that’s the place where people are questioned and don’t usually walk away from. I can’t fucking wait. And when this is done, Xavier will be gone, and so will the Southern Mafia.

You don’t get to threaten and attempt to overthrow the Dark Horse MC without getting your ass handed to you. It’s ass-handing time. Because I’m fucking done, and so is everyone else.

KYLE

I have no clothes.

Like, none.

Walking down to the bar, wearing one of Rider’s black T-shirts and a pair of oversized sweats that I’ve rolled up about ten times around my waist, I look around for help. Shawn and Ryan are nowhere to be seen, but there are some other girls rather scantily clad hanging around, and three guys.

I make my way up to the one behind the bar. He jerks his chin toward me and asks me if he can get me anything to drink. I order water. Wordlessly, he turns his back to me, and a few moments later, he places a bottle in front of me.

“Excuse me?” I call out before he walks away.

When he turns around again, my gaze flicks down to his vest. Where Rider has a patch with the word SECRETARY in bold, this man has one with the word PROSPECT. He arches a brow, his eyes focused on me as I lift my own up to meet his.

“I know that Rider said for me to stay here, but I really need some clothes and things. I was wondering if anyone could take me to the motel in town so I could pack a bag?” I ask.

I don’t mention the fact that I really want to tell Ophelia that I’m okay, maybe give her a hug, too, while I’m there. I think that should be okay. I don’t see why Rider would be upset if I did that. It’s not like I’ll be without one of his people with me, and I need my things.

“No can do, babe,” he says. “I’m not supposed to leave the grounds without permission,” he states and lifts his hand, using his index finger to tap the patch on his chest.

“It’s okay, Wackie. I got her,” a man says as he walks up from somewhere behind me. He stands next to me. Slowly, I turn my head to the side before I tip it back slightly so I can look up into his eyes.

He’s handsome and tall, with shaggy dark hair and stubble. I wonder if any of the men here are ugly, or maybe they are, but the leather, jeans, and general badass confidence override actual looks and trick the eye.

“I’m Loner,” he says. “I’ll take you down to get your stuff, and I’m sure you want to see Ophelia down there, maybe even visit Bren?”

My eyes widen at his words. I do. I want to do all of those things, but I wonder why he can take me, and the other one can’t. But I decide not to question it. Instead, I give him a smile and thank him.

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