Page 45 of Filthy Liar

I’m not his to tame.

I’m simply not his.

And if Humble showed up right this second, I would tell him I’m not his either. As much as I wanted to be yesterday, I do not feel that way any longer. He lied to me. Lied about who he was, and not just the fact that he’s my secret lover, but everything else.

He doesn’t like me for me. He isn’t falling for me. He isn’t worshiping my body, my mind, or feeding my soul.

I’m just a thing to him.

A possession.

I’m not even a person.

“But that’s where you’re wrong, Dillion. I took your innocence, you bled for me, so you will always be mine.”

His words cause me to gag. The bile rises in my throat, and I’m seconds away from spewing all over him. I probably would, too, if I had any food in my body to actually throw up.

“That doesn’t make me yours. All that means is that I made a huge mistake when I was a teenager. I would have fucked anyone. You just happened to be around.”

And that is no lie. None at all. Because I would have had sex with just about anyone. I was desperate, and he gave me some attention. I planned to never see him again, and it would have come true had he not taken me—the ass.

Conrad rips his gentle hand from mine, and before I realize what’s happening, I feel hot pain radiate against my cheek, then a sting. He slapped me. Lifting my hand to cover my cheek, I can feel the heat of my skin almost instantly.

I’m not surprised that he hit me. These are the kind of men I grew up with, and he’s part of them. I’m more surprised at the fact that it took him this long to do it. My gaze finds his, and I arch a brow, giving him nothing, even though my eyes are burning with unshed tears.

I don’t care.

I would never give this man the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

“You are mine, Dillion. It’s not love because I don’t even fucking like you. It’s the simple fact that he cannot have you. I won’t allow it. I’d rather kill you.”

Biting the corner of my bottom lip, I decide not to say anything to him in response. There’s a lot I could tell him about his little speech, like the fact that I would rather kill myself than allow him anywhere near me again, but I doubt it will get to that.

“What are you trying to accomplish here?” I ask. “Because this isn’t really about me.”

I’m trying my hardest to ignore the pain in my cheek. It throbs, though, as I attempt to focus on Conrad. “It comes down to this, and I’ll tell you because you’ll never have the opportunity to repeat it to another soul.”

Closing my eyes, I roll them to the back of my head before I open them and refocus on him. I push the pain, the aches, andthe fear out of me and focus on this situation. There is a lot more going on than what he’s saying.

“The Demon Guns came to me with an offer I couldn’t resist. They want the Dark Horse MC gone, and before I realized they had you, I didn’t care either way. Now, I won’t be sad to see them go.”

“What’s the offer you can’t refuse?” I ask. He’s talking, so I’m going to keep that going for as long as possible.

He arches a brow, and if he’s on to me, he doesn’t say anything. Conrad isn’t dumb, though. He knows I’m getting information out of him, and if he didn’t want to tell me, he wouldn’t. He’s indulging me in an effort for me to drop my walls.

I won’t.

Not ever.

I will always hate this man.

“They will not only transport women for sale. They’ll also procure them, and they are willing to take a lot less. Like nothing, as long as I supply them with drugs and women.”

“Wouldn’t that be taking profit away from you?” I ask.

I’m completely disgusted by this whole conversation. I do not understand what’s happening here. I mean, I do because I know what the Southern Mafia is, but I had always thought they only accepted willing women.

Now I’m wondering if that’s not quite the case, and my skin feels itchy at the thought. I want to claw myself. I want to scream. Cry. Throw up. Everything. My stomach twists at the thought of what his words mean.

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