Page 38 of Filthy Hot

The stranger continues to make his way toward me, stepping in front of Xavier. He holds my gaze, and I’m unable to look away. Then he slowly crouches down in front of me, his eyes never leaving mine. I suck in my breath, holding it, unsure of what to expect next.

Thankfully, he doesn’t reach out to touch me in any way. I wouldn’t be able to shy away from his touch, considering I’m tied to a chair, and I know my face would show the disgust in my features if he tried. I can’t move at all. I’m completely stuck. He chuckles before he speaks. With his words, I let my breath escape slowly, evenly.

“My name is Matthew,” he rasps. “That is all you need to know.”

“Are Sal and Dennis okay?” I ask, my throat dry and my body trembling at the thought of something happening to sweet Sal.

Matthew watches me, unspeaking, unmoving. He straightens his legs. My eyes follow his move as if I’m going to learn something from him straightening his legs. I don’t understand why he has me completely mesmerized, waiting with bated breath on what he’s going to say next.

“Sal and Dennis aren’t your concern. I would worry about your own head, not theirs.”

Instead of saying anything else, I decide to press my lips together and forcibly shut up. This cannot be good. None of it. And this Matthew is not someone I can be a smartass to. I have a feeling, where Xavier is scared of him, Matthew is not someone who is scared of anyone at all.

That’s terrifying.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

GNAW

Atomic hasn’t toldme where we’re going. I have a feeling he doesn’t want me to speed off and leave him and King behind. He’s not wrong in believing that. I am ready to get my woman back. I would rush in there, guns blazing, not giving a fuck about anything to get her, too.

She is officially mine. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her. Claiming a stranger, a woman who you don’t know, isn’t normal. But I would claim her in front of my whole club right fucking now if I could.

Atomic guides his bike down a street, a regular neighborhood, upper middle class in Pineville, nothing as fancy as the one we were in, in Shreveport. But this is considered the nicest subdivision in Pineville. It’s the most desirable.

We move down the street, riding up to a house and parking our bikes in the driveway. I pull up beside King and kill my engine. Looking to Atomic, I jerk my chin and frown. He kicks his leg over his bike and stands beside it.

I guess this is where we get off and go inside. But what the fuck are we walking into? I open my mouth to ask just that, when the front door swings open and a man takes a step out into the sun.

He’s not dressed like the Southern Mafia men in Shreveport. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, with a canvas jacket. He jerks his chin toward Atomic and makes his way over. I open my mouth to ask where my woman is but decide to press my lips together in an effort to allow my president to control this and hopefully keep conflict to a minimum.

Although, inside I know this is a war. It has begun. Even if they end this here and now, I am not going to just let this shit go.

They took my woman.

My woman.

Mine.

Fuck that shit. And they knew who she was when they took her, because they don’t have anyone else. Sal, Dennis, and Kyle. Those are the only ones they have right now under their control.

So, I won’t be taking this shit lying down. I will be starting a war because fuck all of this. Fuck it completely, totally, and wholly. However you want to say it. Fuck this. And fuck the Southern Mafia.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” the stranger announces as he approaches the three of us.

My fingers twitch to reach for my gun. My body, I hold loose, ready for any kind of action. Ready to kill, ready to fight. Ready in general.

But when he continues, I realize he’s just the messenger, and my whole body jerks back in surprise.

“The Southern Mafia is aware of what’s happened at their home in Shreveport. However, they will not hold it against you.”

“As long as?” Atomic asks.

There is a moment of silence. The man dips his chin slightly, then clears his throat before he speaks again. I can tell he doesn’t want to say the next words. His voice sounds almost pained, and I would feel sorry for him, but he’s the messenger for the wrong fucking group.

“As long as you agree to the terms.”