Page 33 of Filthy Hot

I would like to have the other men in the club focus on this so I can focus on Kyle and the warehouse shipment schedules. But I’m here, doing this shit with them and putting my life at risk, though it’s not much of a risk because I don’t give a fuck about these guys.

I’ll drop them in an instant, no hesitation.

“I hope they are more reasonable than I’ve heard rumors of,” King mutters beside me.

I chuckle, though I don’t look at him. Keeping my gaze forward, I let out a sigh. “I doubt they are. I would guess they’re exactly like the rumors say.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking,” he grinds out.

Clink, Atomic, King, and I walk up to the house. We’ve parked our bikes in the circular drive, and I have no doubt they know we’re here. They’re going to make us walk up the steps, ring the bell, and ask for them.

Because that’s what I would fucking do.

Atomic takes the lead. The president should always. He is in charge of this mission, this plan. It’s probably a lost cause of a plan, but we’re going to try. Because them fucking with Sal now means that they fuck with us.

The door slowly opens, and there is a man in an actual suit who steps to the side. “Please wait here. They will be with you shortly.” These assholes have an actual butler.

I almost laugh, but then there is a noise on the staircase, and my brow arches. This is a plantation mansion, with the wholeGone with the Windstaircase and everything. But there are no women in green homemade curtain dresses who walk down.

No, instead, there are women in short skirts and bikini tops waltzing down the staircase. I hold my breath, watching them, wondering where the men are. Then I realize, as they line up and down the staircase, that this is their show.

The Southern Mafia likes to show off, and it’s clear they enjoy dramatics. We all stand around in our leather and jeans as the men move down the stairs, walking between the women. One by one, they descend the stairs, the women closing ranks behind them.

It’s fucking comical. I think about the clubwhores doing the same, and I have to bite back my laughter. This whole thing is just as ridiculous as the Southern Mafia in general. The leader of the group takes a step forward, his eyes finding Atomic’s, and he tilts his head to the side.

“I take it you’re the leader of this ragged group?” he asks.

These assholes are all wearing suits, including vests and bow ties. How goddamn ridiculous. I don’t think I could think that enough. Jesus Christ. What assholes.

“I’m the president of the Dark Horse MC,” Atomic begins. “The main charter.”

The idiot in the front lifts his chin, looking down his nose at Atomic, then grunts. “I’m Robert,” he states. “And I am the president of the Southern Mafia.” He leans over slightly before he continues, “The original charter. But you’re here, so you must already know that. However, I do not know whyyouare here and without an appointment.”

“Sal’s Bar,” Atomic announces.

The asshole has the nerve to arch a brow in what I can only assume is feigned confusion. “What about it?” he asks when Atomic doesn’t continue.

“Why are you trying to take it over? Why did you fuck with him?”

Robert takes a step forward, and his men stay where they are behind him, but it is clear they are ready for whatever is going to happen. And if I had to guess, they are waiting with excitement for what could happen—they want something to happen.

“Fuck with him?” Robert asks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, exactly. But I do know that we paid his bar a visit the other night, but it was closed.”

Closed.

“So, you broke into it?”

“Did we?” Robert asks with a shrug. “I don’t remember breaking in and stealing anything.”

I want to clarify that nobody said they stole anything, but I stay quiet. This is going to go around and around if someone doesn’t stop it soon. I open my mouth to do just that, but Robert continues.

“We did not break into anything. However, you must have a conversation with Sal because I think you’re mistaken about his relationship with us.”

Atomic lifts his arms, crossing them over his chest as he tilts his head to the side. He is cool as fuck, whereas I’m ready to reach for my gun. This is why he’s the president, and I am clearly not. Because I would have walked in here guns blazing without giving a fuck what they had to say about it.

“Enlighten me, then.” Atomic's voice rumbles.

Robert smirks. He clearly thinks this is funny, when it clearly is not that. “Sal promised me a percentage of his business to keep the government off his ass.”

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