Page 59 of Filthy Liar

Not one single person raises their hand. “Then war it is,” Atomic states. “And Vixen is out.”

“Out,” Piston growls.

“No time for a betraying cunt,” I grind out.

“Exactly,” Piston agrees.

Atomic looks over to Brew and jerks his chin. “Let’s start bringing them in one at a time. See if we can get anything.”

“Sure you want to torture people in here?” Brew asks.

Atomic chuckles. “You’re right,” he says. “Take Conrad to the warehouse. Let’s get this shit rolling,” he murmurs.

I have to admit that I’m glad we, as a club, are taking action. I feel like we’ve spent far too fucking long trying to make deals and keep the peace. Fuck peace. We only live once, and I’m tired of these bullshit contracts.

I know that Atomic was just trying to make shit easy and diversify, but I think working with Sal, the keg deliveries, and loan-sharking are the way to go. That’s enough shit on our plates.

“Not to add more shit to your plate,” I call out, thinking out loud.

Atomic stops, arching a brow as his gaze focuses and trains on mine. “We need to think about maybe being more active with Sal’s,” I offer.

Atomic jerks his chin. “When this shit is done, I think we as a club need to sit down and hash out a full plan of diversification.”

I like the sound of that.

A hell of a lot.

Together, all of us head to the metal shop that’s on the property. The prospect, Zombie, is dragging Conrad into the building just as we arrive. I watch as he lifts his arms to attach the rope to the hook that hangs from the ceiling. There is a drain below him that will catch all the blood once we get to work.

It’s now time to find out everything he knows.

Expertly.

DILLION

Checking my email,I sign the disclosure agreements and the rest of the documents my real estate agent sent me a couple of weeks ago. She probably thinks I’ve changed my mind, but I haven’t. I’m ready to sell this house and move on.

It’s also time for me to get back to work. I spent one day feeling sorry for myself, crying, and being scared. Now it’s time for me to put my big-girl panties on and earn some money. Because as soon as I can, I’m getting out of here—maybe even sooner than that.

When I open my front door, the first time I’ve emerged from my house since Rim dropped me off, I’m surprised to find a man standing on my front porch. He’s wearing a Dark Horse MC vest, but instead of his position on the chest, it readsPROSPECT.

“Name’s Wackie. I’m in charge of your person.”

I stare at him for a moment, blinking, unsure I’ve heard what I have. In charge of my person? What the hell does that mean? I start to ask him, then I decide that I don’t care. He can do whatever he wants.

“Okay,” I murmur, turning my back to him before I walk to my car.

I sink down into the front seat before I start the engine. I have to adjust the seat. No doubt a man drove the car from Sal’s Bar because my legs aren’t short, but I can’t even reach the pedals.

Without waiting for him, without giving a shit, I back down my driveway and head toward the bar. I haven’t talked to Sal since being taken, so hopefully I still have a job waiting for me. Although I can’t imagine he would fire me for being kidnapped.He seems like a guy who has gone through this kind of stuff before.

The moment I pull into the parking lot, my breathing starts coming out in quick pants. I didn’t think this would bother me. But it does. The parking spot comes into view. The one my car was parked in when that asshole took me.

I don’t park there. Instead, I pull into a spot as far away from that one as possible. The sound of a motorcycle rumbles behind me somewhere, but I can’t even look behind me. I’m too busy attempting to breathe so that I don’t pass out.

Forcing myself out of the car, I move. One foot in front of the other. One, two, three. I count my steps in an effort to focus on anything other than the fact that I was taken from here and I want to freak out right now.

I can’t do that, though.

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