Page 1 of Filthiest Of Them All

Tatum

Silence.

For some it can be daunting and drive you mad but for others, there is solace to be found, you can revel in it.

Fear.

It can have you looking over your shoulder and making you see things in the shadows that aren’t there.

Caged.

That’s the feeling that consumes you, makes you feel trapped with no escape and has your fight or flight instincts kicking in.

For the past six months I have been living in silence, keeping everyone at arm's length and never allowing them close enough to see through the mask I wear. Every corner I turn fear grips me, thinking he’s waiting in the shadows to finally make his move. I’m living like a caged animal. I’ve tried to regain control of my life and live normally but I fail daily. I change my plans at the last minute, never sticking to the same schedule, wanting to keep them on their toes if they are tracking me.

I still work for Vivian Tempest or should I say Ezy A. I expected to be fired after she learned my true age and my brother rescued me, leaving her behind to face the wrath of the previous Lord of the Saints—better known as my sperm donor—Thomas Valerian. A month after I escaped, her husband reached out and offered me my old job back. Given I was living on ramen and sleeping in a car with my brother, I didn’t have any choice. I haven’t seen my brother in person since I accepted the offer. I limit my calls and texts with him and always change phones. I never call him on my personal cell, only on the burners I have stocked in my suitcase.

I don’t even have a home, I live out of hotels, always traveling to oversee the builds of the new hotels and running Lividica when I return to Hollow Hills. That place still gives me the creeps, I hate going back there. My skin crawls and I always feel like I’m being watched. It’s the waiting that is killing me. I know I’m not free of the Denver Kings and that they will come for me. It’s the fact I have no idea what they look like or who they are that worries me the most.

Alexander ‘The Butcher’ Denver. His name alone has people pissing themselves in fear and hiding out of worry he will suddenly appear like the fucking boogeyman.

I grew up in foster homes where men thought they could take from me. I have looked the devil in the eyes and survived. Alexander doesn’t scare me but the unknown does. The phone ringing pulls me out of my thoughts. I sit forward in my chair and push the stack of papers scattered around my desk to try and locate my cell. When I find it I see it’s an unknown number. A pit forms in my gut and I know it's irrational to worry over a strange number but every day I always think ‘is today the day he makes his move’?

I answer the call and place it on speaker as I finish typing out my email. “Hello?”

“Miss Lawson.” The husky voice reverberates through my office. I still have my hands hovering above my keyboard.

I can feel it, this is him.

“Who is this?” I keep my tone calm and my breathing even, not giving away how terrified I am.

“Introductions aren’t necessary. You know who this is.” I suck in a sharp inhale, my eyes dart around the room as if waiting for him to jump out of a dark corner and finally kill me.

“What do you want?” The tremble in my voice pisses me off, I’m trying to appear unaffected but failing.

“I’ve given you space and kept my distance, not using you as bait to lure out that piece of shit. I expect the same courtesy in return.” His voice is raspy and sends a shiver down my spine, how a voice can do that is beyond my knowledge but just the sound alone, I could listen to it for days on end and never tire of hearing it.

“I haven’t done anything and I don't know what you’re talking about,” I fire back, grateful that my outrage is beginning to spur me to life. I focus on that instead of the reaction I’m having to his voice.

“Don’t play stupid, it’s not a good look on you, Tatum.” Hearing him say my name has my flight instinct kicking in. I slam the lid of my laptop and begin gathering everything I need and shoving it in my bag.

“You don’t know what looks good on me, Butcher,” I grit out through clenched teeth.

“The mismatched teal bra and black lace thong wouldn’t have been something I chose for you.” I freeze, my jaw unhinges as I stare down at the phone while terror roars to life inside me. “How’s that for not knowing what looks good on you?” I swallow a couple of times trying to regain my composure. He’s here. How do I know? Because I’m wearing the teal bra and black thong right fucking now.

“You stay the fuck away from me. I’m not like the girls you’re used to dealing with. Unlike those hussies, I fight back and my bark matches my bite, asshole.”

“Stop looking into me and the Denver Kings and we won’t have an issue. Keep digging and next time we’ll be having this conversation face to face.” He ends the call but his warning hangs heavy in the air. My breathing is rapid and my heart is working double time to try and keep up with the panic flaring inside me. I debate my options—which aren’t many. All I can do is get out of here, grab my shit from the hotel and get on the next plane to head to Miami.

No!

If he is watching then I need to switch it up. I’ll head to Chicago. It may raise questions with Vivian since the construction on that one is taking longer than my grandmother to orgasm. It’s bullshit the amount of permits you need there just to open a hotel with a sex club. Lividica is in high demand and I have numerous people reaching out to me to get them in contact with Vivian so they can buy the clubs. She of course shoots down every offer, she’ll never sell Lividica, that place is her baby.

I tear out of there without so much as a goodbye to anyone. My driver is out front waiting. When he sees me running toward him, he drops his cigarette and then climbs inside the vehicle, clearly surprised to see me so early—normally I am the last one here.

“Where to, Miss?”

“My hotel, wait for me out front. I'm grabbing my things then we’re heading straight for the airport,” I say breathlessly. He doesn’t comment which I’m grateful for. I make it a rule now to never befriend any of my drivers because for all I know they could be a plant from The Butcher. I can’t stop looking out the back window and all around to make sure we aren’t being followed.

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