Page 54 of Filthy Devil

But this Pencil Dick? This motherfucker?

I don’t fucking think so.

I’m going to beat him into the fucking ground and show him just how fucking old I am. Then I’m going to kill him and ruin the entire Southern Mafia. I’ve had enough of these assholes.

“When and where?” Bugsy grunts.

“That easy?” Pencil Dick asks.

Bugsy snorts, then clears his throat, and I hear his voice deepen as if he’s trying to keep from being heard.

“You think any of us down here give a fuck about some chick who came from a whore’s cunt? Man, she isn’t claimed. She’s no fuckin’ old lady, and if I could have sold her, I would have already done it by now. She is worthless to us. But Nash is our president, and he’s our family.”

Pencil Dick’s smile curves up, and I know he thinks this is hilarious. I try to look pissed off at hearing those words, but when his gaze flicks to mine, his smile grows. Good. He’s bought it.

The address is given. I’m surprised we are in Brownsville, Texas. Right on the fucking Mexican border. I thought for sure we would be closer to Louisiana. But only because I know they have a house in Shreveport. But I guess trafficking women and shit in Mexico makes more sense.

“Be here in three hours, or he’s dead.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

JAMES

Listeningto the man on the other end of the phone rattle off an address, I make a decision. One that I absolutely should not make, but I do it anyway, because I’m desperate as hell. There is no way I’m going to let anything happen to Nash or anyone in this building.

Especially not Nash’s son, daughter-in-law, or grandsons.

Tommy G leaves his phone on the corner of the bar at all times, and I know it’s not passcode protected because he went on a ten-minute rant about that not long ago. He didn’t want the government to have an image of his face, and he didn’t want them to know any numbers he would use.

It was a hilarious rant, but now it’s a helpful one. Moving swiftly through the bar, I walk by Tommy G and slide my hand across the edge, taking his phone with me and shoving it in my pocket. I also know from watching these guys get in and out of the vehicles around here that they just leave the keys in the visor.

I walk out of the back of the clubhouse bar and head straight for the SUV Bugsy and Rev drove to the strip club. Climbinginside, I tip the visor down and smile at the sight of the keys that land in my lap.

It’s at this exact moment that I realize I’m missing something. A weapon. There is no way I can walk into that room with nothing and expect to free Nash. I don’t believe he’s just going to let Nash walk out of there if I hand myself over to him.

Reaching for the center console, I lift the lid and move some papers around, then find exactly what I am looking for. Not only is there a knife in a sheath, but there is also a handgun.

I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m going to figure it out on the way. There is no way I’m just going to let something happen to Nash or anyone else who he loves.

This shit is my fault, and I’m going to fix it.

Starting the SUV, I shift it intoReverse,immediately pressing my foot against the gas pedal, and then slam the shift intoDriveand go. Opening up the maps app on Tommy G’s phone while driving too fucking fast with my knees, I type in the address.

I’m only about forty-five minutes away. I don’t even know if I have enough gas to make it there, and I don’t care. I’m going to go for it and get to Nash before they get him. And before they get to anyone he loves.

Hopefully, before anyone at the clubhouse realizes I’m gone, I’ll already be in Brownsville and have this situation handled. So I drive, my hands shaking, my body trembling, and my foot firmly pressed on the gas, going as fast as I possibly can without getting noticed by the police.

When I hit the city limit sign, I let out a heavy sigh. I’m relieved, but only because it doesn’t seem like they’re following me yet. I will have at least a little bit of a head start before they arrive, and hopefully, by then, I’ll be gone, and Nash will be safe.

The GPS takes me to the outskirts of town, where it is mostly commercial buildings. Then it tells me to turn right and that I’vearrived at my destination. Parking the SUV in front of a metal warehouse, I stare at the small door to the right.

I’m not sure what I’m going to find inside, how many people, or what kind of hell awaits me, but I don’t care. What I care about is Nash, and I choose to keep him at the forefront of my thoughts.

Grabbing the gun from the center console, I shove it in the back of my pants and hope on all things holy that I don’t shoot myself. Leaving Tommy G’s phone and the keys in the SUV, just in case Nash can get out and run like hell, I climb out of the car and head for that small door.

It feels like I’m on my way to my own death, and in a way, I am. But I’m not going to go down without a damn fight. And fight I will—for Nash. I will fight to my death so that he can live. I don’t care how dramatic that is because life and death are dramatic as hell.

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