Page 33 of Filthy Devil

He watches me for a moment, and I get the feeling he’s not going to tell me anything, or if he does, it’s not going to be everything, but then he surprises me and begins to speak. If this story isn’t everything, I’m not sure I want to know the parts he left out.

“I shot him in the head.”

I blink, frozen, unsure what to say or do. I am completely and totally motionless in shock. My lips are parted, my eyes wide. The only thing that’s moving are my eyelids that keep blinking.

Thankfully, he doesn’t leave me in this state for long. “I gave him plenty of opportunities to deliver the information I requested. When it became clear to me that he not only wasn’t going to deliver that information but that he was also going to be a danger to you, I had no other choice.”

“A danger to me?” I ask in a whisper.

I can’t help thinking about that man at the convenience store and the way Nash shot him in the forehead like he was nothing more than a nuisance. A bug he needed to squish beneath his boot heel.

“A danger to you. He clearly thought you were his possession, and he wasn’t going to walk away.”

My tongue peeks out before I slide it across my bottom lip to wet it. Suddenly, every part of my insides feels dry. Then I start to feel like I’m heating up from the inside out. I know that if I touch my hands to my face, it would be hot.

“What do you mean he thought that I was his possession?” I ask, although I do so hesitantly.

Nash tosses the remote control onto the coffee table a foot away and turns to face me. He cups my cheek, then his other hand that is resting against the back of the sofa lifts, and I feel his fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck—which I freaking love.

With both of his hands on me like this, I feel cocooned. With his blue eyes connected to my own, I feel safe. This is a man who will never let anything happen to me. He is, without a doubt, going to protect the hell out of me. He’s already proven himself—twice.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I’m pretty sure he was the man who was going to take you when you were delivered. When you weren’t on the truck, he came looking.”

I didn’t consider they would already have had someone for me. Originally, I assumed it was going to be some fancy businessman somewhere who wanted arm candy. I pretty much figured out that it wasn’t going to be that before I climbed into that truck, but still.

“Does this mean it’s done, then?” My heart slams against my chest at the thought of this being finished. I don’t want this to be done. I don’t want him to let me go. Even if I had somewheretogo, I’d want to be with him.

“No, it doesn’t. If he knows where you are, then others do, too.”

Oh god.

“Does that mean you’re sending me away?” I ask in horror.

“Yeah,” he grunts, and I know that I look as terrified as I immediately feel because he shakes his head and starts talking a little faster. “But not away from me, just away from here. You’re better protected at the clubhouse.”

My nose wrinkles.

I may not know all the terms and lingo here inBikerland, USA, but I remember where my bio mom lived and visiting her at the clubhouse a few times. It’s still weird thinking of her as my mother and not my sister. I’m not sure I’ll ever be comfortable with any of that, even inside of my own head.

“The only other place I could put you aside from here or there is my personal home, but there isn’t security there. You wouldn’t be as protected.”

I want to go to his house for the sole purpose of seeing his space, of becoming part of it in a way where he can’t imagine me not being there. I’m seriously obsessed with this man, and I don’t completely understand why.

Sure, he saved me, but he’s never made any grandiose promises to me or any promises at all. He’s hot as hell, and I’m pretty sure he could make me come with just the right look. But those qualities don’t equate to obsession. There’s more to it than climaxes and safety. I just don’t know what yet. But I want to find out.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

JAMES

Packingmy new things back in the same bags I brought them here in, I look around the small space and feel a bit… sad. I don’t know what the future holds in store for me, but this little place isn’t so bad. At least here, I’m alone. Even if the kitchen and food situation is a bit strained, I could make that work.

The door opens just as I’m stuffing my last T-shirt in a bag. Turning my attention toward the doorway, I watch as Nash saunters inside, carrying two cups with a bag dangling from two of his fingers.

“What’s this?” I ask.

His lips twitch into a smirk. “Muffins and coffee. They aren’t as good as my daughter-in-law’s, but I found a decent baker here.”

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