Page 45 of Filthy Devil

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he rasps.

Closing my eyes, I do just that. Sleep immediately consumes all of me.

NASH

At what pointdo you tell your new girlfriend that you fucked her mom off and on for twenty years? I’m not quite sure how to broach the subject, and honest to fuck, I was hoping that I would never have to. But as I lie in bed and think about that, with James in my arms, I wonder if I should tell her.

Full disclosure and all that shit.

Mistake or not, I decide against it.

Closing my eyes, I force myself to fall asleep, and eventually, I do just that. I’m not sure how long I sleep, but when I wake up, it’s still dark outside. Reaching for my phone, I glance at the time and groan. It’s five minutes past six in the morning.

Normally, this would be an optimal time to wake up James with my mouth. But when I look at her, I can tell she’s fast asleep, and after being woken up by whatever the fuck woke her up, I let her sleep.

Slipping out of bed, I make my way to the bathroom and take a quick shower before I dress for the day and head out into the bar of the clubhouse. It’s empty, which isn’t surprising since it’s just past six. Moving toward the door, I step outside.

The morning air is calm, but it’s foggy outside, which isn’t surprising given that we’re coastal. I should probably avoid climbing on my bike and riding away with the fog, but I do it anyway.

I’m going to the club to make sure everything has been closed down properly. I’m going to go through the tapes from last night and do some accounting. If I don’t do those things, it doesn’t get done. While the other guys work with the girls and make sure that everything is running smoothly, I take care of the paperwork and finances.

Honest to fuck, it sounded a hell of a lot more fun when it was just a concept. Now it’s a fuckton of work. I’m supposed to be retired, but at the same time, I am enjoying doing something.

I didn’t think I could ever be the kind of man who could get bored. I’ve always been hustling, working for the Dark Horse, doing something, and then, when we came out here, leaving the original charter to the young guns, I felt as if I’d made a huge fucking mistake.

Moving through town without a single detour, not even for coffee, I head straight for the strip club. Maybe if I can get it done early enough, I can take James out for a ride.

She’s right.

She’s been cooped up way too fucking long in there. She’s also had to deal with some hard truths, like the fact that Vixen is dead, along with Blur. I didn’t want to tell her. I was hoping she wouldn’t ask too many questions, but it’s clear my girl is curious.

Pulling into my parking spot, I park my bike and disengage, making a mental note to text King to see if he and Shawn want a couple of visitors for a few days. I could use a dose of my grandchildren, and James could experience a whole new atmosphere, albeit a still very safe one.

Maybe if she met some old ladies, she would feel better about her situation, too. It’s hard here because there just aren’t any old ladies around. Most of the men in my club aren’t just retired. They’re also single men who, like me, were never married or men who are divorced, most multiple times.

Swiping my keycard, I hear the door unclick before I reach to tug it open. The moment I take a step inside, I can’t help but feel like something is off. Locking the door behind me, I begin to move through the dark building.

Typically, I would just go straight upstairs to my room, but I need to check the entire building. I just feel it. There issomething that is just plain off. I move into the reception area. All is well. As I walk into the dance area, that’s where I see it.

There is a woman tied to a chair in the middle of the stage. I recognize her. She’s one of the dancers, but I don’t even know her name. She’s fully clothed, which kind of surprises me because if this was a sexual thing, I know, without a doubt, she would be naked.

Moving farther into the room, I stop when I am a few feet from the stage, and that’s when I notice that she’s got a gag wrapped around her mouth, keeping her from speaking. Turning my head, I look behind me and watch as a man stands from a darkened corner in the audience.

“The fuck is all of this?” I ask.

“Tell us where James Bishop is, and the girl won’t get hurt.”

Facing him fully, I place my hands on my hips and plant my legs wide as I watch this pencil-dicked fucker walk toward me in his skinny pants. What a fucking joke. What a douchebag.

“She’s not yours to have, and I’m guessing you people have bigger fish to fry right now. So I’m wondering why you’ve sent someone else here who will undoubtedly not return back home.”

A veiled threat that is really a promise. This asshole will not walk out of here, not without a damn good fight. And he doesn’t look like he’s been in many of those, if any. This is someone who orders thugs to do his dirty work.

His hands remain clean.

My hands are forever fucking dirty and stained.

Then something happens. I feel something sharp at my neck, and as if it happens in slow motion, my body begins to fall. I can’t stop myself. I can’t even catch myself. I go down, but I don’t feel myself hit the floor—everything goes dark.

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