Page 72 of Filthy Hot

A few moments later, I’m sitting beside him in a pickup truck and watching the pine trees go by from the window. Loner doesn’t talk, but when I hear a noise, I look over at him and watch as he grips the steering wheel so tightly that it’s cracking from the pressure.

I open my mouth to say something, but he grunts before he clears his throat. “Shut the fuck up,” he snaps. “Don’t say a goddamn word.”

I think I just messed up… big time.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

GNAW

Sal’s eyeswiden as soon as I walk into the room. He’s tied to a chair in the middle of the room, with a cloth in his mouth. With quick strides, I walk around him and untie the cloth. It falls from his mouth. He lets out a whimper, which sounds nothing like the Sal I know.

“I knew you boys would find me,” he rasps.

“You okay?” I ask as I start to untie his arms and legs from the chair.

He doesn’t say anything at first but then he clears his throat. His voice is so hoarse, and I can’t help but wonder if they’ve not only starved him of food, but water as well. I walk around the chair and hold out my hand for him.

It takes him a moment to lift his hand and wrap his fingers around my forearm. I realize he’s weak. Really fucking weak. “Sal, you okay?” I repeat.

“I will be,” he says with a trembling voice. “I just need to move, get some food and water.”

“Then that’s exactly what you’ll get,” I murmur.

I don’t walk away from him. Instead, I help him as we move toward the door. Slowly, almost at the speed of what I assume a turtle would move, I make my way down the staircase with him.

Once we reach the bottom of the staircase, I see there are now five girls instead of three and Sal. Fucking Sal. I can’t explain how happy I am that we found him. Talon made it sound as if he’d killed him. I’m glad we didn’t take him at his word. Fucking Talon. I’m glad he’s dead.

Even if I’m sure that whoever is above him is going to come looking for his ass, and then the real war will likely begin. Unless he was going rogue, which I have a sneaky suspicion he was. I think he was trying to prove something to someone. I just haven’t figured it all out yet.

But I will.

We will.

“Are you ready to get back to the clubhouse?” Nash asks.

“No other men?” Atomic murmurs.

Nash shakes his head. “We looked everywhere. We found nothing. I don’t know what the fuck kind of skeleton crew or what he brought here.”

“Maybe we got the main men in Shreveport, and these were the only ones left,” King suggests. “A few guys, Talon, and Kyle’s ex. Plus the women.”

The women.

That is another issue we have yet to work out for the future. What the fuck are we going to do with these women who are clearly loyal to a man who is no more? Nash clears his throat, and as a whole, we swing our attention to him.

“I know Talon’s grandfather. The Southern Mafia did about what we did. He retired and left the whole organization to Talon before he moved out to Arizona to retire.”

Atomic growls. “And you’re just telling us this?” he says with a snap.

Nash doesn’t respond. Instead, he arches a brow and stays silent while he waits for Atomic to calm his shit. And he does. I watch as Atomic dips his chin in a silent instruction to move forward with his thoughts—thatis an alpha.

“It wasn’t important until now. I didn’t know Talon, and I didn’t think his grandfather was going to come into play, just like nobody thinks I’m going to come into play on things. But this will definitely need his involvement now.”

“What about Talon’s father?” King asks.

Nash snorts. “Died in a car accident. Anyone wanna take bets on whether that little pissant fucked with his car?”

---