Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

JAMES

“ Get the fuck in the truck .” The voice is deep, guttural, and scary as hell.

My natural instinct is to turn tail and run. This is not what I signed up for. Walking up the plank-like ramp, one foot in front of the other, I really feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I am.

And I signed on the dotted line.

I did this to myself.

Once we’re loaded, the door is closed and locked—I actually hear the handle lock into place. It’s like the final nail in the coffin. I’m left in a dark trailer, surrounded by women just like me—stupid, stupid women like me.

I’m not sure how long we’re on the road when the truck comes to a stop. The girls around me are all trembling, shaking more than anything. Their backs are pressed against the sides of the truck walls.

Their eyes are wide, and their cheeks are tearstained.

They look terrified.

But not me, and it’s not because I’m not horrified. I am. I’m scared to freaking death. But it’s because I knew this was a raw deal when I signed it. I did it anyway, and I’ve been mentally preparing myself for it for days.

I should have run far away when these people asked me if I wanted to get out of town. They offered me a deal—an arranged marriage kind of thing. It was like they knew I was vulnerable when they asked me to.

Vulnerable and panicked.

It’s like they knew I was in a bad place and took advantage. I’m not sure if it’s possible for them to have known, but in this world, anything is possible. I’ve been so lost since I found out the truth. Since my world was turned upside down.

I needed to get away from my entire life, and this seemed like the best way to do it. Now that the time is here, I’m wishing I had just packed my shit and walked out of town. I should have thrown caution to the wind and figured out something different for myself.

Hell, I could have worked at a bar or as a waitress, stayed in a hotel, something—anything. But I chose this? How freaking stupid am I? Maybe I deserve whatever is going to happen to me if I made this dumb of a choice. I think I just might.

My parents would have helped me, as long as I was willing to do whatever they wanted if I had asked them to. All three of us are stubborn as hell, though, and when I found out who they really were to me, the knock-down, drag-out fight we had was something we couldn’t just forget about.

Then, they tried to make demands about what I was going to do with my life and my future. They didn’t ask, they didn’t guide, they were demanding—authoritarian. My stubborn ass cut my nose off to spite my face, and here I am.

As I sit in this stupid truck, being transported somewhere unknown like cattle, I realize that my parents care about me. But at the same time, they lied to me. They kept an entire part of my life from me. I knew something had been missing, yet I couldn’t put my finger on it. Now that I know what it is, I can’t trust them, and I’m not sure I can forget that.

They also insisted that I enroll in college or get the hell out of their home. That was the final straw. College isn’t for me. It never was. School has always been something that I did because it was a law, but the reality is that I’ve struggled since day one.

Now that I’m an adult, It’s not a law anymore. And now that I know who and what my biological parents are, it all makes a lot more sense. I’m an idiot who comes from idiotic assholes.

“I’m scared,” the girl next to me whimpers.

With a snort, I shake my head. “No shit, babe.”

“You don’t have to be a bitch,” she snaps.

Instead of snapping back at her, I roll my eyes and let my head fall back against the metal truck wall with a thud. She’s scared, everyone is, and everyone’s emotions are heightened. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but this is fucking scary, and I can’t hold her hand when I’m freaking out, too.

After inhaling through my nose, I slowly let the air out of my mouth. I’m not sure I’m going to find my way out of this situation. I’m pretty fucking certain I’m not going to have any kind of arranged marriage. I’m pretty sure I just sold myself into the sex trade.

When I least expect it, the back doors of the truck open. One of the girls cries out. However, I’m not sure why because it’s pitch black, so it’s not like she or anyone else can see anything.

Then I hear some men’s grunting and heavy footfalls right before three flashlights begin moving around the truck trailer. All the girls try to become one with the wall in an effort to get away from these men, but when I catch a glimpse of them, my chest squeezes. They look like the men who my sister hangs out with.

They are wearing leather vests, tight T-shirts, jeans that are worn and fit their bodies to perfection, and boots. Big black boots. They walk heavily, too. These men don’t sneak around anywhere. They don’t have to. They are to be heard and seen and don’t give a shit about any of it.

When I was a little girl, I remember visiting my sister once at her place. It must have been a hangout for these bikers, maybe even a party because they were everywhere. It was the one and only time I went to see her.

Something happened between her and my parents because I never really saw her much after that unless she came home, which was extremely rare. She and my parents didn’t get along, which, now that I know she is actually my mother and not my sister makes a whole lot more sense.

They were embarrassed by her. Having a baby at fifteen with a biker was not on their bingo card of life. She wasn’t ready to be an adult. I don’t know if she ever was. She left home when I was two and never lived there again.

Andrea Bishop was wild. She lived life by her own rules and didn’t give a single fuck about my parents. Which is why she left me with them and ran off to live her life her own way. I don’t blame her for that. Hell, minus the baby part, I did the same thing.

So my grandparents raised me as their child, and now that I look back, now that I know the truth, everything makes perfect sense. They were extremely strict with me, so much so that it was stifling.

I’ve never felt free in my life. And I stupidly thought that this decision would make me feel that way. But I was just trading one prison for another. And I think that this one is going to be a torturous prison.

“You,” a voice growls right before a flashlight is shining directly in my eyes.

I blink but can’t see a damn thing. Squinting, I try to make out his face, but I’m met with a dark shadow and a gravelly voice, nothing else.

“Me?” I say back when he doesn’t continue.

“Name?” he demands.

I almost say your mom, but decide against it. Again, being a smart-ass isn’t going to help me in this or any other situation from here on forward. I’m going to have to force myself to shut the fuck up on a regular basis and bite my tongue. Also, on a regular basis.

“James,” I reply.

My voice comes out as a pathetic murmur. I’m not sure why I sound like such a weakling, but here I am, sounding weak as hell. Inhaling through my nose, I hold my breath for a moment, then let it out of my mouth slowly as he crouches down in front of me.

When I see his face, my breath hitches. It’s not just any face. He’s stunning. Gorgeous even. He has a thick beard, his hair is combed back, and his blue eyes are focused on me as if I’m the only person in the whole world.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I wonder why I’m turned on in this moment. This literal stranger should not make me feel these things. He should also not be this sexy, but that’s a whole other can of worms.

“You’re who I was looking for.”

And with that, he bends a little more, shoves his shoulder into my stomach, and stands up. My body is completely draped over him. I grab hold of his belt at his back, my hair hanging down almost to the backs of his knees.

He walks out of the trailer with me, down that same ramp I made my way up just hours ago. Before I realize what’s happening, my body slides down the front of his, my feet planted firmly on the ground as I look up and catch his gaze again.

“Climb on my bike,” he grunts.

Standing frozen in front of him, I blink as I look over to the bike and then shift my attention to the truck. He’s staring at me, watching me as if he’s trying to read me… or maybe he already knows everything, and he’s trying to figure out why my ass isn’t moving at his command.

“On your bike?” I ask.

He grunts again. This time, he moves a little closer to me. I can feel his body heat and his face just inches from mine, and my suspicions are confirmed. He is trying to figure out why my ass isn’t moving.

“On. The. Bike.”

Okay.

On the bike it is.

NASH

Fuck.

Me.

Pulling the truck over is the easy part. Riding up beside it, I make it look like I’m just one of the boys here to have a chat. The driver stops, dipping his chin to look down at me. He smirks, seeing my cut as I stand beside the big rig.

“Hey, brother, need to talk to you.”

Lifting my hand, I motion with two fingers for him to come down from the truck. He does, his gaze scanning my cut, and then he clears his throat. I watch as he shoves his hands in his back pockets and rocks back on his heels.

Fuck this fucker.

Reaching behind my back, I grab hold of my gun and press the barrel against his forehead. “You’re going to pretend you have fucking amnesia. You don’t know what the fuck happened. You were ambushed, no clue by whom. Fuckers in masks and shit. Yeah?”

He flicks his gaze behind my shoulder, and I watch as his spine straightens. His lazy smile is no more, and his eyes widen. He’s a stupid fuck, but he’s not a dumb fuck because he nods a couple of times in agreement.

I don’t know who this guy is, and I don’t care. He takes a step backward, his body colliding with the side of the truck. I watch as he turns around, shoves his hands in his pockets, and begins to whistle.

Lifting my hand, I point at him and watch as one of my men posts up in front of him, ready for anything. And he is ready for anything. The other two men behind me follow as I make my way toward the back of the trailer.

Tugging the doors open, I pull the ramp out and walk up to the cargo area. It’s dark, not a single fucking light in the trailer, not even a goddamn flashlight for these women, but my eyes adjust easily, and what I see turns my stomach.

It’s been a long time since my gaze has landed on terrified-looking women gathered in a truck on their way to be sold into a life of sexual slavery. Because let’s be honest, that’s exactly what will be happening with them.

They will be sold to the highest bidder. They will be used, abused, and thrown away like trash. And that will be fucking that. Then, they’ll be replaced, and the cycle will continue.

But as much as it pains me, I can’t worry about any of them. There is only one woman in here who I’m concerned with, and that’s James. Lifting my flashlight, I click it on as I move through the trailer. It doesn’t take me long to find her.

I don’t know how I know it’s her. I’m not sure if it’s because her father is Blur or her mother is Vixen. They didn’t raise her, but they are part of her—it oozes from her. She sits with her back against the metal wall, her gaze focused straight ahead.

Nothing, not a goddamn thing, is going to touch this woman, and if it does, she’s not going to let that shit show.

“Name?” I demand.

She lifts her head, her eyes finding mine. “James.”

I fucking knew it.

Crouching down in front of her, I really take her in, search her gaze with mine. Fuck me, she’s pretty. I’m way too fucking old for her, but she’s pretty as shit. I like looking at beautiful women, so that’s what I’ll do and nothing more.

No matter what my dick wants.

“You’re who I was looking for.”

She blinks at me. Moving forward, I shove my shoulder into her belly and stand up, bringing her with me. Her torso is draped over my back, and I feel her fingers grip my belt. Walking her down the ramp, I make my way over to my bike and slowly release her body.

Feeling her tits slide down my chest, I try to keep my dick from twitching, but it doesn’t work. I want to be inside of her. I don’t know why I want it so badly, but I fucking do. I haven’t wanted to fuck someone like this in years.

Clenching my teeth together, I grunt, not wanting to admit that I am turned the fuck on right now. This is really neither the time nor the place for this shit.

“Climb on my bike,” I grind out.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide and her lips parted in awe. “On your bike?” she asks.

Grunting again, I lean forward, my gaze focused on hers before I speak. “On. The. Bike.”

I hold her gaze, watching as she does what I demand. She climbs on the back of my bike. Fuck me, but she’s sexy. Especially perched on my bike. Her eyes find mine, and she stares at me, waiting for what’s next.

Climbing on in front of her, I start the engine. My bike roars to life as my men follow suit. A few moments later, we’re off and heading straight for Corpus Christi. I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen next, but I want to find out.

I can’t fucking wait.