Page 32 of Filthy Devil

My lip twitches, not because he called Vixen a whore, but because he thinks that some underworld contract is going to hold up, especially since the Southern Mafia is known for breaking every goddamn contract they have signed with us.

“If I were you, and thank fuck I’m not because I wouldn’t be walking out of this room today, I would think about my words carefully.”

He grunts. “You want me to think about my words, but you’re telling me that I’m not walking out of here?”

“You’re not, but those words could save a family member or a friend, so I would think about them before I speak them.”

“She is not your bitch,” he barks. “Not. Yours.”

It’s cute that he’s emphasizing words, but at the same time, I don’t give a fuck. Not a single one.

“Who sent you?” I demand, knowing that his leader, the big man in charge, is dead. He may not know it yet, but I sure as shit do.

He looks down at his lap, then slowly lifts his gaze to meet mine. “She wasn’t on that truck,” he grinds out.

And it hits me. I should have realized when he said she was his that this is the fucker who bought her or she was given to. Nonetheless, he’s here to collect who he thinks of as his woman.

I got goddamn news for him.

“No, she wasn’t. You’re never going to see her. James didn’t know what she was signing. You took advantage, which I’m going to assume is part of the Southern Mafia’s MO. How many other girls didn’t realize what they were getting into before it was too late?” I ask.

He narrows his eyes on me, pressing his lips together, and refuses to answer. That’s fine. I don’t need his verbal response. I already know what they were doing. Sure, it was slightly better than what I did back in the day, which was actually kidnapping women. At least this way, they felt as if it was their choice.

But wrong is wrong, and this shit is wrong.

I breathe in deeply and hold it for a moment as I try to maintain my composure. He jerks his chin, his eyes narrowed on me and unwavering. He thinks he’s in the right, which makes this just as fucked up as what we did when the club was just getting started.

“Who sent you?” I demand.

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll give you one more shot, but I’m tired of this, and I have a warm, wet woman waiting for me upstairs. She’s a helluva lot more interesting than your ass.”

If fire could escape this man’s eyes, I know it would. Reaching behind me, I wrap my fingers around the handle of my gun and tug it out of my waistband. Holding it out, I aim it directly at his chest.

“Want to tell me?” I ask.

“Fuck you,” he repeats.

“No, fuck you and anyone you’re remotely associated with because they’re all going to die.”

I raise the gun from his chest, aim the barrel at his forehead, and pull the trigger.

JAMES

I’m not quitesure how long he was gone, but what feels like hours later, I hear the lock on the apartment door slowly unlatch, and then the door opens and he’s there. After he left earlier, I took a shower, got dressed in one of my new short pajama sets, sat down on the little mini couch, and flipped on the television.

There isn’t much to watch, and I make a mental note to ask Nash if he has a streaming service I can log into because if I have to be stuck here, then I’m at least going to need some background noise in the form of trashy television shows.

Turning my head, I watch as the door opens. I’m not sure how I expect him to look, but when Nash walks through the door, he appears no worse for wear. His gaze immediately swings to mine, and without a word, he closes and locks the door behind him, and then he sinks down on the couch next to me.

He doesn’t say anything before he reaches for the remote control and plucks it out of my hand. Then he stretches his arm across the back of the couch as he starts flicking the stations on the TV. This is some normal weeknight.

“Nash?” I hesitantly call out.

Slowly, he shifts his attention to me, his eyes connecting with mine. He arches a brow, waiting for me to continue, which I didn’t think I had to, but apparently, he wants me to say the words.

“What happened?” I ask.

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