Page 22 of Filthy Devil

My spine straightens.

What the fuck?

There is a hot-pink pole on a stage to one side of the room, much like the one downstairs, except on a much smaller scale than the whole floor. Then, there is a bed angled in the corner to face the pole—a bed with no sheets or pillows, just what looks like a rubber, fitted sheet.

There is also a leather loveseat pushed against the wall that faces the pole. And in the center of the room is what I can only describe as a sex swing. It’s hanging by ropes from the ceiling and looks like a seat with cushions, except it’s clearly a showpiece facing the couch and bed. This is for sex.

Jesus.

I open my mouth to tell him that I need to leave, that I need to get the fuck out of here, but Bugsy begins speaking before I can hightail it out of there.

“This was the only unoccupied room other than your apartment.”

I almost ask him if he really thinks this space is less awkward than my own room, but I decide against it. Instead, I stay ready to run. He takes a step toward me but, thankfully, doesn’t reach out to touch me. I’m not sure how I would react if he did.

“It’s easier to call down to the kitchen if they have a place to deliver the food. And this is a normal delivery place for food.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nod once. “Okay,” I whisper.

I’m in so much trouble. I can feel it bubbling up from deep within my belly.

NASH

Leaning back in my chair,I lift my legs and slam my boots down on my desktop. I’m not sure how to navigate this shit. I am in charge of this club, and yet I’m not. It’s an odd place to be, especially since I’m supposed to be fucking retired. I’m clearly not retired, though, and the original chapter has been in over its head for a while.

Lifting my phone to my ear, I wait for King to pick up. I could call the president of the club, Atomic, but I’d rather call and talk to my own son. It only rings twice before he picks up. I have more than one reason for calling, but I’m going to handle business first.

“Hey,” he mutters into the phone.

“How is the war going?”

He lets out a chuckle. “It’s just been discovered that there are some serious issues. Southern Mafia is fucking pissed. They also said that one of their trucks was vandalized, but only a single piece of merchandise was compromised.”

I snort. “It was compromised to the goddamn fullest, too.”

“That was something I didn’t need to know,” he says with a grunt.

Laughing, I shake my head, although I know he can’t see me. “But you wanted to know if I tasted that, and I did. I liked what I tasted, too, so not sure what’s going to happen there.”

“Again, not something I need details on. You know both of her bio parents are gone, yeah?”

I could lie and tell him that shit doesn’t matter. That she won’t give a fuck, but I don’t know if she will or not. She’s young, she’s made a whole mess for herself, and it’s not something she’s going to be able to walk away from easily, even with my protection.

“And how does the Southern Mafia feel about their merchandise being missing?” I ask, shifting the conversation.

There is a moment of silence. Then he clears his throat. “The driver claimed he had no clue who or what ambushed him. But I don’t know how long that story is going to hold up. They are busy right now at war with the Demon Guns. If they’re all still breathing after the smoke settles there, we may have a problem.”

“And what do you want me to do with her until we know?” I ask.

He lets out a groan. Then, his voice is low as he speaks. “Do what you want, but don’t give her the life that Vixen was trying to save her from. Even if she did it the wrong way, that woman was trying to save her daughter.”

He’s right.

And Vixen did do it the wrong way, but she was desperate, and I understand that. As a parent, there is no amount of betrayal that I wouldn’t commit to save my son. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect Elvis and my grandchildren. Nothing.

“James is safe with me. There’s nothing to worry about there,” I say.

“Except maybe me getting a little brother or sister?” he asks, barely able to contain his laughter.

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