Page 62 of Filthy Devil

But if I did that, I wouldn’t be the man I am.

“Tell me what the fuck is goin’ on that you couldn’t spare a man to protect your president’s woman.”

Bugsy clears his throat, his gaze flicking to James before it returns to mine. “What I told you was the truth, Nash. The men are all busy. And the ones who aren’t searching for these fucks, they’re trying to figure out how to house the whores. That doesn’t include the fact all of our shit was burned to the fucking ground.”

Instead of arguing with him, I decide to let it go for now. I can’t do a hell of a lot being laid up in bed. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with any part of this situation. In fact, I have a feeling that Bugsy is going to find himself in deep shit here shortly, along with any other man who has decided not to protect my woman.

Because I have made it perfectly clear, more than once, that James is mine. That statement alone makes it fucking assumed that she would have complete protection. I can’t wait to get the hell out of this bed. The hospital has about ten more hours before I bust myself out and take care of my own shit. I am fucking done.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

JAMES

After Bugsy leaves,and I’m left alone with Nash, he calls me over to his bedside again. I’m not sure how I went from walking away forever to refusing to leave his side, but here I am. I sink down beside him again as he takes his hand in mine and his eyes connect to my own. Focusing on me, staring at me like there is nobody else in this whole world.

“I know you’re on the edge. On the verge of running away.”

“Nash—” I begin, but he shakes his head once, and I snap my lips closed. Clearly, he wishes to speak. So I let him. And honestly, what would I say? That it’s a lie? It’s not. I was and am on the brink of trying to get the hell away from everything.

“You are. I can see it in your eyes. I’m asking you this, James. If you want to run because you don’t really want to be with me, then I’ll get you all set up somewhere safe. But if you are ready to run over some fucked-up sense of protection, then you can just let all that shit go. Because you aren’t protecting a damn person if you walk away.”

I flick my gaze down to my lap before I slowly lift it again, my eyes meeting his. “Nash, seeing you like that…”

He raises his arm, and his fingers curl around the side of my neck and firmly hold me there. When his fingers flex, I suck in a breath. My tongue slips out to wet my dry bottom lip.

“Fuck seeing me like that, sweetheart. Fuck it. Because it won’t ever happen again. I stupidly let my guard down. And that is on me.”

“But this,” I whisper, gently reaching out and placing my hand on his injury, “this is on me. I was the idiot who agreed to their terms. I should just go with them, and this can be done and over with.”

Wrong.

Thing.

To.

Say.

“No,” Nash growls. “Just fucking no.”

I open my mouth to argue some more because, apparently, I cannot understand these textual clues, so I just keep going and pissing him off more and more. His angry blue eyes darken right in front of me.

“You should absolutely not go with them, James. You want to be raped in every orifice until you die? Maybe add in some torture on the side? Because that is what will happen to you. Not sure what they had planned before, but that is definitely on the table now.”

I gulp, a knot in my throat, my eyes wide as my imagination takes over and I think about the scene he’s just laid out for me. He didn’t even have to go into detail, because I am seeing it in my mind, and my whole body trembles just thinking about it.

“Don’t think you want that,” he grunts, his anger still apparent. “Besides, when we’re finished with these fucks, therewon’t be anyone to take you anywhere because they’ll all be dead.”

Before I can respond, he roughly pulls me forward, his face just centimeters from mine. His lips are almost touching my own. I’ve almost forgotten about the anger, about running, about the argument.

I’ve almost forgotten because I want him to kiss me that damn badly.

“If you want to leave, James, then go. I won’t make you stay. But you walk away. You’re not coming back.”

He releases me, and the suddenness of it causes my body to physically jerk backward as if he hit me. And he did, just not with his hands. He hit me with his words. I instantly feel sick to my stomach.

“Nash,” I whisper.

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