Page 44 of Filthy Liar

“They can’t get ahold of Dillion. She hasn’t been to work, she hasn’t been at her place?—”

“Work?” I ask, interrupting him.

“Work,” he says with a single nod.

I’m not sure what the fuck he’s talking about. When I left Pineville, Dillion didn’t have a job, but now she’s working? I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I’m so goddamn confused. I need him to clarify this shit and do it now.

“Where?” I demand.

He shifts his gaze to the side, then slowly lifts his eyes to meet mine. “Sal’s.”

I can’t control the way my body starts to tremble. I can’t control myself because the thought of my woman working at Sal’s sends me into an absolute fucking rage. Kyle runs the bar, and that’s fine, but I highly doubt Sal needs another waitress in that section.

The only thing I can imagine she’s doing is stripping. And I will be goddamned if my woman takes off her clothes for money.

God. Fucking. Damned.

Not my woman.

I didn’t have the time to tell her what it meant to be mine, to talk to her about the rules, mine and the club’s because as much as we live in a free-flowing type of society within the MC, we also have basic rules.

As much as I can’t blame her for getting a job to pay her bills, at the same time, I want to wring her fucking neck. I’d pay her bills, but I didn’t have the time. So basically, that’s what the issue is here. I haven’t had the time to tell her what is expected. I was too fucking busy playing games and having fun with her.

It bit me right in the ass.

Right in the goddamn ass.

Fuck.

“We need to get the fuck home,” I grind out. “Where the fuck is she? Has anyone looked?”

Guts and Piston share a glance, but I don’t like the look they share one little fucking bit. My body is vibrating with anger. There’s nothing I can do about it, either. It does not instill confidence in this situation at all whatsoever. I open my mouth to ask what the fuck, when Piston chimes in.

My body is vibrating, on edge. As the adrenaline fills me, I can’t help but wonder if I could make it back to Pineville. The pain is ebbing, and now I’m just anxious to get home to my woman—to find her.

“Me and Guts were thinking about heading home and grabbing an SUV along with a trailer to haul your shit back and transport you all. There’s no way you can fucking ride back to Pineville, none of you.”

He’s right. As much as I would hope that my adrenaline could carry me home, I have a feeling I would fall off my bike in pain before I even reached the Tennessee border.

The conversation shifts. They start to discuss the Demon Guns, Vixen leaving, and the Southern Mafia, but all I can do is think about Dillion and the fact that she’s been working at Sal’s and can’t be found. There’s something really fucking wrong with this.

Taking my phone from my pocket, I send her a text to check on her. I stare at the phone, waiting for a response as the men chat around me, but there is nothing. It doesn’t even sayDeliveredat the bottom.

What the actual fuck?

“I need to get home,” I announce. Slowly, I lift my head, my gaze searching around the room.

“Right fucking now.”

DILLION

I’ve never really thoughtabout hurting someone, but I do now. I want to hurt Conrad. I want him to go away and never come back. I won’t go as far as to say that I want to see the life drain from his eyes, but I’m almost there.

He walks over to me, no, he slithers. His body moving like the snake he his. Then his knees bend, and he slowly crouches down in front of me. He reaches out. His fingertips lightly slide across my cheek.

He’s treating me like a wild animal he wishes to tame.

I’m not his to touch.

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