Page 52 of Filthy Liar

“So where the fuck is my woman?” I ask.

My contact lets out a sigh. He obviously thinks I’m exhausting. I am fucking exhausting, but I don’t give a fuck right now. I need to know where my woman is. And I’m going to burn the world down to find her.

“Just give me a goddamn minute,” he says with a grunt.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I worry the skin there and wait for him to tell me who the fuck has my woman. Inhaling and exhaling through my nose, I’m seconds away from telling this motherfucker to hurry the fuck up, but I know he likes the flair for dramatics.

So I wait.

Pressing my lips together, I fucking wait, and then I wait some more.

“It’s a guy who goes by the name of Blur. I mean, I could tell you his real name, but that would be pointless. You know who he is. He’s from Tennessee. Knoxville, to be exact.”

“Do you know where he’s staying here in town?” I ask.

“I do. And I would tell you if you’d shut the fuck up.”

Rolling my eyes, I almost tell him he’s pissing me off and that he better hurry the fuck up, but I decide against it. King, Atomic, and Guts exit the SUV, but I stay where I am on this fucking phone call.

“He’s not staying at a hotel. I found his info, and then I traced him to a coffee shop that just happens to be across the street from a neighborhood. And in that neighborhood, there is an Airbnb. That Airbnb has been booked for the next three months.”

“So they’re at the Airbnb?” I ask, interrupting him.

“They’re at the Airbnb,” he confirms.

He clears his throat in the silence that follows, and I wonder what the fuck is happening. Because it’s clear he’s not telling me everything.

More silence.

This motherfucker is all about the control, but so am I. I’m ready to beat the absolute shit out of him over the phone. I wish it were fucking possible. Jesus Christ, I wish he were in front of me right now. Pain or not, I would fucking obliterate his ass.

“I’ll text you the address,” he murmurs.

“Anything else you’re not telling me?” I ask.

He chuckles but doesn’t answer me right away. Then he clears his throat before he speaks. “Yeah, one more thing,” he says. Sucking in a breath, I wait for him to continue. “Conrad is here from the Southern Mafia. He’s also got some kind of obsession with your woman. I hacked into his computer and found not only a whole file on your girl but pictures as well.”

Fucking great.

“Send me the goddamn address,” I say, gnashing my teeth together.

He agrees and ends the call but tells me to call him back, and we’ll do lunch. I’ll do lunch with him when pigs fucking fly. Thanking him for everything, I end the call, and by the time Imake it out of the SUV, I have the pinned location sent to my phone.

As I stumble toward the clubhouse door, I’m surprised to see that King and Atomic aren’t in the conference room holding church. Atomic isn’t in his office. Instead, they are watching me walk into the room.

“I think I know where Dillion is,” I announce.

Rim takes a step forward, then another. “I got her,” he announces. “Stay here.”

“Fuck that,” I snap.

He arches a brow, then his lips curve up into a smirk. “You need rest. Let us get her and bring her home.”

“Rim,” I grind out. “They die. They all fucking die.”

He jerks his chin, his eyes finding mine. “They all fucking die.”

I don’t know how I got into the clubhouse or how I find myself in bed, but my mind repeats those words on a loop.

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