Page 2 of Filthy Devil

When I was a little girl, I remember visiting mysisteronce at her place. It must have been a hangout for these bikers, maybe even a party because they were everywhere. It was the one and only time I went to see her.

Something happened between her and my parents because I never really saw her much after that unless she came home, which was extremely rare. She and my parents didn’t get along, which, now that I know she is actually my mother and not my sister makes a whole lot more sense.

They were embarrassed by her. Having a baby at fifteen with a biker was not on their bingo card of life. She wasn’t ready to be an adult. I don’t know if she ever was. She left home when I was two and never lived there again.

Andrea Bishop was wild. She lived life by her own rules and didn’t give a single fuck about my parents. Which is why she left me with them and ran off to live her life her own way. I don’t blame her for that. Hell, minus the baby part, I did the same thing.

So my grandparents raised me as their child, and now that I look back, now that I know the truth, everything makes perfect sense. They were extremely strict with me, so much so that it was stifling.

I’ve never felt free in my life. And I stupidly thought that this decision would make me feel that way. But I was just trading one prison for another. And I think that this one is going to be a torturous prison.

“You,” a voice growls right before a flashlight is shining directly in my eyes.

I blink but can’t see a damn thing. Squinting, I try to make out his face, but I’m met with a dark shadow and a gravelly voice, nothing else.

“Me?” I say back when he doesn’t continue.

“Name?” he demands.

I almost sayyour mom,but decide against it. Again, being a smart-ass isn’t going to help me in this or any other situation from here on forward. I’m going to have to force myself to shut the fuck up on a regular basis and bite my tongue. Also, on a regular basis.

“James,” I reply.

My voice comes out as a pathetic murmur. I’m not sure why I sound like such a weakling, but here I am, sounding weak as hell. Inhaling through my nose, I hold my breath for a moment, then let it out of my mouth slowly as he crouches down in front of me.

When I see his face, my breath hitches. It’s not just any face. He’s stunning. Gorgeous even. He has a thick beard, his hair is combed back, and his blue eyes are focused on me as if I’m the only person in the whole world.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I wonder why I’m turned on in this moment. This literal stranger should not make me feel these things. He should also not be this sexy, but that’s a whole other can of worms.

“You’re who I was looking for.”

And with that, he bends a little more, shoves his shoulder into my stomach, and stands up. My body is completely draped over him. I grab hold of his belt at his back, my hair hanging down almost to the backs of his knees.

He walks out of the trailer with me, down that same ramp I made my way up just hours ago. Before I realize what’s happening, my body slides down the front of his, my feet planted firmly on the ground as I look up and catch his gaze again.

“Climb on my bike,” he grunts.

Standing frozen in front of him, I blink as I look over to the bike and then shift my attention to the truck. He’s staring at me, watching me as if he’s trying to read me… or maybe he already knows everything, and he’s trying to figure out why my ass isn’t moving at his command.

“On your bike?” I ask.

He grunts again. This time, he moves a little closer to me. I can feel his body heat and his face just inches from mine, and my suspicions are confirmed. He is trying to figure out why my ass isn’t moving.

“On. The. Bike.”

Okay.

On the bike it is.

NASH

Fuck.

Me.

Pulling the truck over is the easy part. Riding up beside it, I make it look like I’m just one of the boys here to have a chat. The driver stops, dipping his chin to look down at me. He smirks, seeing my cut as I stand beside the big rig.

“Hey, brother, need to talk to you.”

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