Page 37 of Filthy Liar

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

“And we are going to take care of your sister, the Southern Mafia, and the Demon Guns as soon as fucking possible,” I finish King’s words.

It’s a lot of damn shit we’re promising Vixen. We still don’t even know where her sister is being held, let alone how to get her out without causing mass chaos. I have a feeling it’s going to be complete fucking chaos no matter what, though.

The Southern Mafia does not want to release her to us, which means she’s valuable. And since we don’t sell women, we don’t know or give much of a fuck about her value. She’s family.

DILLION

My eyes flutter open.I don’t know where I expect to find myself, maybe home in my own bed. But that is not where I am. I lift my arm, but a chain-clinking sound causes me to pause.

That’s not the only reason I pause, though.

I physically cannot lift my arm any higher than a few inches. I also cannot sit up. I’m restrained to the bed. Every part of me is tied down—my ankles, my arms, my thighs, my belly, my chest… my forehead.

Tears instantly fill my eyes.

My breathing comes out in pants as I begin to panic.

I know I shouldn’t panic. There’s literally nothing I can do. I need to reserve whatever strength I have, but my body feels very lethargic, and my mind is a bit hazy. I don’t know what’s going on or why. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to, either.

I’m not sure how long I lie motionless on the bed, strapped down like an animal, but there is noise at the side of the room. I turn my head as much as I can, and my eyes slide to the side so I can attempt to see who or what made that noise.

There is a doorway, there is a light stream of light, and then there is a shadowy figure. I open my mouth to ask this stranger what is happening, but I decide against it. Not only am I not in the position to ask any questions, but it also doesn’t matter what I ask because I’m tied to a freaking bed.

“You’re awake,” a deep masculine voice rumbles as he moves into the room.

I press my lips together, rolling them a few times as the tears stream down my face. My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, to the man who moves toward me. I don’t recognize him. Like, at all. But then I see his vest. He’s the man from outside of Sal’s Bar.

“Why?” I croak.

I don’t mean to say the single word. It just comes out, and I wish I could take it back, stuff it back inside of my mouth and pretend it never came out. Pretend I was unable to speak at all. Pretend that my entire being vanishes from this bed. From this moment. From this world.

“Why?” he asks. “That is simple. The Dark Horse MC needs to be taken down a peg or two. They think they’re hot shit. They aren’t. And I’m fucking done playing. See, if I took one of the other women, they would kill me. But you? You aren’t worth shit. You ain’t claimed.”

I don’t know what that means. What does any of it mean? Instead of telling him that, I don’t say a single word. I stare at him, unsure of what the hell I have done to deserve any of this. And then my mind fills with a million different scenarios, and none of them are good—at all.

“There are half a dozen ways I could think of to violate you in that position. I wouldn’t even have to untie you. But I haven’t done that. Have you asked yourself why?”

All I’ve asked myself is why the fuck I’m here. But I don’t say that. Because at the end of the day, that doesn’t matter. I’m here, tied up and at his mercy. The tears don’t stop flowing. I can’t even try to make them stop, even if I want to.

I’m helpless. Hopeless and pathetic. I can’t take care of myself. That much is clear. But at the same time, it’s not my fault. Even if I’m here as collateral damage, that’s all it is. I understand this lifestyle to a degree, and I know this isn’t personal.

My grandfather, uncles, brother, and even father did unspeakable things to people and felt nothing when they did. It’s one of the reasons I left that life behind. I hated it then. I can confirm that I still hate it now.

“But I’m not ready to play with you yet,” he murmurs. “Can you tell me anything about Atomic and the club?”

I almost snort but decide that this isn’t the time to be an asshole. This is the time for truths. And this guy holds my life in his hands. But I have nothing to offer him. Not a damn thing.

“I don’t know anything. I have only spent the night with Clink once.”

Silence consumes me for a long moment. It’s almost palpable. I stare at him, wondering if he’s going to say something or do something, but he doesn’t immediately. Instead, I hear his laughter fill the room. Then he bends at the knees slightly, his eyes finding mine and holding my watery gaze.

“You are an idiot.”

My eyes widen, I blink a few times, and then he laughs again. He thinks this is hilarious, and I feel stupid. I don’t even know why. I open my mouth to ask him, but he snaps his lips closed and continues talking, telling me all the ways of which I am indeed stupid, and when he finishes, I have to admit that I feel really damn idiotic.

“You’ve been fucking him for months. Sneaks into your house in the middle of the night, but is he really sneaking if he has a key?” he asks.

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