Page 54 of Filthy Savage

I turn to him, my eyes finding his profile. He slowly shifts his attention from the girl to me. “She knew his name,” I whisper.

He shakes his head once. Then the woman speaks again.

“Where the fuck is he?” she demands. “Tell me right now who you are and why you’re here.”

“I’m calling Gnaw,” Guts barks.

I watch as he turns on his heel, digs his phone out of his pocket, and walks away from me and this woman. I don’t know what to say, what to do. I don’t want to be nice to her, but I also don’t want her to run away before we get to the bottom of this.

So I do the only thing I can think of doing. “Would you like to come inside for some coffee, maybe some tea?”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

BREW

“Why the fuckdo they all have theseGone with the WindSouthern-style houses?” King asks as we stop in front of the Southern Mafia’s main headquarters.

We rode into town last afternoon and decided to shower and crash so we would be fresh for today. Now it’s time for meetings and figuring out what the absolute fuck is going on between the Dark Horse MC and the Southern Mafia, although at this point, I can’t imagine that the head of this organization knows or even gives a fuck about us.

Nash pulls up beside me and jerks his chin toward the front gate. “You ready?” he asks.

No.

I am absolutely not ready.

I would rather be anywhere but here. Well, I would rather be between my woman’s legs if I had to name a place. And in all honesty, I’m always going to choose being between Spencer’s legs rather than anywhere else.

I also have work to do. I’ve been keeping an eye on my phone, and the warehouse deliveries seem to be going well, but I feel the need to be close by in case there is a hitch in the system. And with all the changes in shit, there is bound to be some kind of hitch somewhere.

“As we’ll ever be,” Atomic answers for the rest of us.

Nash has a couple of his men behind us and a few others on standby close to this stupid-as-fuck mansion in anticipation of what could happen. Which I honestly hope is a big fat nothing.

I want this trip to be a waste of time. That way, nobody gets hurt, no wars are started, and we can go back to our regularly scheduled programming.

In a perfect world, that’s the way shit would go down.

We also have to make sure that we don’t mention the fact we’re keeping Loner’s sister, Dillon, for ourselves. That is another part of this that we haven’t been up front about, and I don’t plan on it, either.

Fuck them.

All of them.

This whole fucking group has been completely full of shit since they started this. I’m just here to hear the bullshit, make sure they know we aren’t playing their games, and go home to my woman.

The gates open slowly, the sound of the metal creaking causing my teeth to gnash together. Nash revs his bike’s engine, then moves forward toward the opening that is just wide enough for only him to slide through.

Once the gate is completely open, the rest of us follow behind him. I expect Nash to be off his bike and at the front door, but he isn’t. The sight that greets me as I come skidding to a stop is nothing that I expected.

There are ten men standing around the driveway, guns drawn and pointed at Nash and us. Fuck. What the hell did weget into here? A man walks between the gunmen. He’s tall and thin, wearing a whole-ass suit including jacket, vest, and tie. His hair is slicked back, and sunglasses conceal his eyes.

“Conrad,” Nash grinds out, “you wanna call your fucking dogs off?”

There is a moment of silence. My gaze is fixated on this man, on this Conrad creature. He stands stock-still. Holding his body lean and loose. He’s ready, but for what, I’m unsure of. Instead of reaching for my own piece, I decide to just wait it out. There are too many of them focused on us right now to even attempt to take control of this situation.

“I just wanted to ensure that you understood exactly what is happening here,” Conrad says, his Southern accent cool and collected.

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