Page 51 of Filthy Devil

He’s no Conrad, that’s for sure, and I inwardly chuckle at the thought of the former leader of the Southern Mafia because that fucker is dead. It makes me wonder if he knows this little factoid or not.

“It doesn’t matter if the person she was promised to is dead or alive. James is the property of the Southern Mafia, and she has been promised to the Southern Mafia, no matter what man uses her at the time.”

“So you have her as a Southern Mafia whore?” I ask.

This doesn’t surprise me. James is fucking gorgeous, but also, they know who her biological mother is, and it wouldn’t shock me that they would assume her to have the same fate.

Vixen was a whore, there is no way around that, but she was a Dark Horse whore, and that is not the same as being a Southern Mafia one. Years ago, when we worked with the Southern Mafia, I partook in their whores. But they were not treated the same asours, not even back then. I can’t imagine how they are treated these days.

“It doesn’t matter what we do with her because she’s ours to do with as we please.”

Arching a brow, I clear my throat and shake my head. “That doesn’t work for me. How about you get your boss here and let the men have a conversation.”

Without a doubt, that pisses him off. I watch as his eyes twitch before he jerks his chin. “I am the boss,” he growls.

It’s funny because this little prick is younger than King by about a decade, so I have a feeling he’s about as low on the food chain as one can get without being a gopher. He takes a step backward, holding his hands out around him.

“I am the fucking boss,” he barks a bit louder.

I don’t laugh, even though that’s exactly what I want to do. Instead, I stare at him impassively.

Then, I tilt my head to the side before I speak. “Well, if you’re the boss, then get moving on your plan,” I state. “I’m hungry and need my own fucking bed tonight.”

Pencil Dick jerks his chin toward a banquet table with a couple of chairs. “Sit the fuck down, then,” he demands.

Big man.

I do as he says because I’m ready to get this done and go home to my woman. I am absolutely not intimidated by him in any way whatsoever. I also know that I don’t have any kind of weapon or means to protect myself and end this shit right this second. So, I’m playing his game until I don’t have to any longer.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

JAMES

Pacing the bar,I look back at the room that I was banned from. They’re having some kind of supersecret meeting, and no girls are allowed. At least, I assume it’s no girls, because only men walked in there.

It’s been hours.

Too many hours since we’ve discovered that Nash is nowhere to be found. I don’t know what to do or how to feel. I am completely and totally lost. I feel nauseous, too. I should be worried about myself, about my future, but I’m not. I’m too consumed with thoughts of Nash being in danger and it being all my fault.

I’m physically ill with guilt and worry.

“Sit down, girl, and have a shot to calm your nerves,” Tommy G calls out from his place at the bar.

I don’t sit down, and I don’t stop pacing. Because fuck all of this shit. I can’t sit still, and I can’t have a drink when Nash is out there… somewhere. What he isn’t is here with me, and that makes me sick.

I open my mouth to respond to Tommy G, but I’m not able to because the door flies open, and in walk five men, a woman, and two kids. I know exactly who they are without even having to give them a second glance.

It’s Nash’s son, his men, and his daughter-in-law and grandkids. I’m positive this is not how he wanted us to meet. But it doesn’t matter, because this is how we’re meeting. There is a moment of silence, and then the man who looks like a younger version of Nash’s gaze meets mine.

“Where is my father?” he asks.

Blinking, I swallow the lump in my throat. “If I knew, I would tell you,” I whisper. “I wish I knew.”

Tears well in my eyes.

Because I wish I did know.

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