Page 38 of Filthy Liar

My secret lover.

Oh my god, Humble is my secret lover.

“You didn’t put two and two together? Holy fuck, this is great. Well, let me blow your mind completely. Your idiot of a brother was undercover in the Dark Horse MC for your family. When the MC found out, because he was stupid enough to plotagainst them and get Clink, your man, put in prison…” he says, his words trailing off.

I swallow the lump in my throat because not only did I not know that my brother was part of this club with Humble or that he knew him at all, I had no idea that Humble had been in prison.

Prison.

Holy shit.

“It gets better,” he says, not even trying to hide his laughter. He is loving this. Maybe if I thought I had the upper hand in something, I would be just as excited about it. But I’m not an asshole. I don’t kidnap people and tie them to beds, so I don’t know about his life.

“There’s also the little pesky fact that when the club killed your brother, they got complete and total ownership over you.”

“They can’t. I’m not part of either organization,” I say, speaking out loud.

“Funny how that doesn’t matter. So, even though you aren’t a claimed old lady, you are theirs. It’s a nice little loophole. If you were claimed, things would be different, but you’re just a cunt to fuck, because he owns you, and he can.”

If there was any breath left in my body, it’s now completely gone.

What the actual fuck?

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

CLINK

“Nash?”I call out as the man on the other end of the phone greets me.

“What’s up, Clink?”

He sounds so damn nonchalant, and I do not get it. He is always so fucking cool, calm, and collected. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him anxious or even pissed off. I mean, he’s been mad, but seeing-red angry? Never seen it.

This is a guy who has been the president of the original chapter and is now the president of the old man’s club but couldn’t just enjoy retirement. He had to fucking go and open up a high-end strip club.

“We need your help,” I confess.

Atomic put me in charge of calling some of the other clubs to organize reinforcements. It’s busywork. I know it is. He could rally the troops in a single group text message, but he wants me to keep from climbing the walls, and I don’t blame him.

I’m on fucking edge, to say the goddamn least. I’m ready to go hunting, stitched-up side and all. Because I’ll be fuckingdamned if I’m going to be made to not only feel but look like a weak and stupid asshole again.

But as I attempt to stretch, a grunt rumbles from my chest. I’m sore as fuck, my wound being too goddamn painful to do much else besides make these phone calls. I have to know my limits, and right now, I’m conserving my energy because the time will come when I will be taking care of shit.

It’s now beyond Vixen being held hostage. It’s about my pride. And I’m prideful as fuck. They knew what they were doing and what they were initiating when they did what they did to us. They also knew that we were officers of the MC.

King’s voice is in the background. He’s calling his woman and talking to her and the kids. Then he’s calling our clubhouse to talk to the brothers there and update them on what happened. He’s getting tabs on everyone to see what else these assholes had in motion without us knowing.

Again, busy fucking work. But it keeps us from sitting around being pissed the fuck off that we were fucking stabbed and are stuck in this goddamn hotel room, unable to go home. Keeps us from completely losing our shit.

“Gonna need more than that, Clink,” Nash murmurs.

I laugh, although there is zero humor inside of me. “We got some serious shit going down…” I begin. Then I tell him the story. And when I’m finished, and he’s heard that his kid has been stabbed, I hear a growl crawl up his throat.

“Elvis has been stabbed?” he barks.

Flicking my gaze over to King, I’m surprised that he called him by his given name. I can’t even remember if I’ve ever heard Atomic call King that before. I stare at King for a moment, then clear my throat.

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