Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER

TWO

JAMES

The air blows my hair everywhere, but I don’t care. I’ve got bigger fish to fry than my hair at the moment. Like the fact that I just climbed on the back of this man’s bike and I have no idea who he even is.

This man, this stranger who plucked me from my future nightmare, is riding somewhere. Possibly an even bigger one. I don’t even care where I’m headed right now. All I know is that I made a stupid mistake by signing that contract, and now I’m free… well, sort of. I’ll take whatever this is over whatever that was about to be.

I’m not sure what is about to come for me, but I’m also not sure that I give a shit. I’ll figure out a way out of it if I need to. Wrapping my arms around his waist tighter, I rest my cheek against the warm leather of his vest.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I close my eyes as the bike effortlessly moves down the street, hugging every curve as if it were one with the road. I’m not sure how long we ride, but I almost fall asleep, I’m so relaxed.

When the bike stops, I almost fall off, my entire body jerking up in surprise. I feel as if I’m in a daze. Like there is a haze around me and I’m moving in slow motion. Almost as if I’m moving through honey or something.

Looking around, I realize that we’re at a gas station. I have no idea where we are or where we’re going. Nothing looks familiar. I don’t even know if we’re still in Texas. Before I can ask any questions, several more bikes roll up behind us.

I take in the men on those bikes and notice they appear to be in at least their fifties. Some of them are a little rougher around the edges than the others. But they’re all wearing matching vests and clearly belong together.

“You need to use the bathroom, babe?” my biker asks, taking me out of my thoughts and observations.

My neck twists to look at him. He is staring at me, his blue eyes almost boring into my soul. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I blink a few times as my gaze searches his. I don’t know who this man is, but the way he’s looking at me makes me squirm in my seat.

Wordlessly, I climb off the bike. I start to walk past him into the convenience store, but he reaches out his hand and wraps his fingers around my wrist, stopping me from going farther.

My feet stop moving, and I slowly lift my gaze to meet his. He dips his chin slightly so that he can look into my eyes. His lips lift at the corner, but it’s hard to tell beneath his thick beard.

In the light, I can see that he’s got some gray in his beard and more salt than pepper in his hair, but it looks good on him. He’s probably in his late forties. A silver fox. It looks really good on him. He’s got some lines at the sides of his eyes and a few deep ones on his forehead, but again, it looks amazing on him.

God. This man is sexy.

Then I watch as he reaches into his pocket and takes out a small wad of cash, placing it in my hand. I flick my gaze down at the money in my hand, then shift my attention back up to meet his.

“Grab me some peanuts when you’re in there. Get yourself something, too. Not sure when you ate last, but we got a few more hours on the road.”

“Okay,” I exhale.

He doesn’t release me, though. Instead, he keeps his grip firm on my wrist and his other hand still pressing money in mine. He watches me for a moment, then takes a single step toward me.

He’s so close that I can smell him.

Leather, oil, and cedarwood— my god .

“You good, babe?”

“I’m good,” I exhale shakily.

His lips twitch into a smirk as he shakes his head once. “You ain’t good at all,” he murmurs. His voice is rich and deep, like smooth, rich coffee or chocolate. I don’t know what, but it makes my knees weak. “But you will be. Don’t take too long, or I’ll come looking for you.”

And with that, he releases his grasp on me. Curling my fingers around the money, I walk toward the store. With each step I take, I can feel his gaze focused on my ass, and I can’t tamp down the thrill of excitement at that. I even sway my hips a little more than I should.

The store is bright the moment I pass the threshold. Wincing, I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust before I look around for the bathroom. Immediately, I notice that there isn’t anyone behind the counter. Frowning, I scan the tops of the walls, looking for the restroom sign.

Of course, it’s all the way in the back. I’m not sure what time it is, but I know it’s late at night, and I also know I’m getting creepy vibes in this place. Quickly, I move toward the back of the building and slip into the bathroom.

After taking care of business as fast as humanly possible, I tug my jeans back up and move to the sink. There isn’t even a mirror, and I wonder what the hell I look like because I know it can’t be good.

No doubt I look as terrified as I feel.

I’m confused and don’t know what to expect. I am also certain that I’ve made a serious mistake. I should have dealt with my shit like a normal person because it is not normal to essentially sell myself into an unknown life just to get away from my parents’ controlling grasp on me.

But I did it. And now I have to suffer the consequences of that. All of it. I’m on the back of some random guy’s bike, without any clue of where I am or where I’m going, and I’m walking down the snack aisle of a gas station store to grab him some peanuts.

What a wild turn this night has taken so far.

I’m kind of excited to see what happens next.

Gathering the peanuts, a bag of peanut butter M&Ms, and a bottle of water, I make my way toward the counter. There still isn’t anyone there. I haven’t even heard any noises from someone else anywhere in the building, let alone seen anyone around.

Looking over my shoulder, my gaze shifts to the gas pumps. The bikes are there, and so are the men. They’re all standing around bullshitting, and I use the moment to not just look at them but to see them for the first time.

They’re older and rough, but they are also tall and strong, and I would venture to guess that they could hold their own any time of the day or night. A noise to my left causes me to jump and takes me out of my ogling.

Turning, I watch as a man walks through a door, his eyes finding mine. Instantly, something ugly slithers over my skin at his gaze. I’ve already placed my items on the counter, and my leg begins to shake with nervousness at this man’s sheer demeanor.

“Hey there, little lady. It’s awful late for you to be out here. Ain’t it past your curfew?”

Forcing a smile, I shake my head once but don’t say anything. I just want to pay for this stuff, run out of here, and never look back. He doesn’t scan my items or give me a total, though. Instead, he just watches me.

Shifting my attention to the gas pumps, I check to see if my biker or any of the others notice me standing here silently, freaking out.

They don’t notice a damn thing.

Then I feel cold, clammy hands wrap around my forearm. He roughly tugs me forward, half of my body sliding across the countertop. Before I realize what’s happening, his face is just inches from mine. I let out a sharp cry from the mixture of surprise and pain.

“Listen, bitch,” he hisses. “You’re going to come around the counter and suck my dick, or I’m going to let those guys outside fuck you until you’re bleeding from every orifice. Do you know who they are?”

I’m too stunned to answer him. So, instead, I just stare wide-eyed at this crazy crackhead as he continues to explain to me who these men outside are. Men who haven’t done anything to me at all—yet, and haven’t given off even half of the creep-fest vibes this asshole has.

“They are the…”

What happens next is so fast that I still don’t realize what’s really happening until it’s already happened.

A loud pop sounds from somewhere behind me.

The man’s lips part, and he makes a gurgling sound in the back of his throat before he drops to the floor, his hands releasing my arm when he does. Thank god.

“We’re the fucking Dark Horse MC,” a deep voice rumbles behind me.

Spinning around, I see my biker in front of me. He’s holding a gun in one hand and wearing a fury-filled expression.

It’s hot as shit.

Damn.

I’m in so much trouble. I’m not even fazed that there is a dead man behind me. No, not me. James Bishop doesn’t care about that. Instead, I’m turned on that this old badass shot him right in the freaking head for touching me.

Shit.

This is bad.

So damn bad.

And so fucking good.

NASH

“You good, babe?”

James’s eyes are wide, her lips parted, and her nostrils flared, but I’m not sure it’s in fear. She inhales a deep breath then moves toward me, her tits almost pressing against my chest. Instead of pulling her against my body, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and take a step backward.

“You need to get out of here, and we have some cleanup to do,” I grunt.

“What?” she breathes.

Leaning forward, I lift my hand, cupping her cheek before my thumb slides across her bottom lip. Fuck me, but I want to do absolutely goddamn filthy things to her right now. My blood is pumping, and adrenaline is flowing at the thought of it.

When I saw that piece of shit’s hand on her, pulling her over the counter, my vision filled with nothing but the color red. He was holding her too fucking close, and I didn’t even need to see her face to know that she did not want to be there.

He had to die.

There was no way around it. That man could not take one more breath. I couldn’t allow it. He had to go.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t have anyone that would give much a fuck if he’s alive or dead. But the local cops might have an issue with it. So, we gotta clean up this mess I made.”

Her eyes widen, and just when I expect her to freak the fuck out, she doesn’t. Instead, she rises to her toes and touches her lips to my cheek before she scoots past me and walks out of the door and straight for my bike.

As soon as she’s out there, all my brothers, except one, make their way toward the store. Once they’re inside, they don’t even have to ask me what the hell is going on because there is blood, brains, and hair splattered all over the cigarette case.

A few minutes later, the surveillance tapes are wiped and the system is completely destroyed. Blood is cleaned up, and the body is gone. A couple of the guys carry it away and dispose of it. I don’t give much of a fuck about this piece of shit who, without a doubt, was going to do something to James. So I don’t care how his body was disposed of.

We pick these gas stations that are isolated for a reason.

We don’t need witnesses to our every move, and this is the prime example of why.

The body is disposed of and will never be discovered. Once we’re finished, I head back toward our bikes. We’re definitely ready to go fucking home at this point. I am without a doubt. I could use my own bed, a good blow job, and half a bottle of Crown.

I’m surprised to see James leaning against the seat of my bike, popping an M&M into her mouth from the bag in her hand. She appears completely and totally unfazed by anything that’s happened tonight.

Interesting.

“Fuck me, but she gives no shits about watching a man die in front of her,” Bugsy says beside me.

Clearing my throat, I continue to move forward, stopping as I take her in again. She lifts her head, her eyes finding mine from across the parking lot. Her lips curve up into a grin the moment our gazes connect.

“Fuck,” Bugsy hisses beside me.

“What?” I ask, not looking away.

I can’t look away.

This woman is mine.

Fuck me, I’m old enough to be her father. Hell, I’m older than her father. But looking at her right now, I want to keep her. Shaking my head, I clear my throat a couple of times, then I open my mouth to say something, but I’m not sure what, so I snap my lips closed.

Bugsy speaks before I can say anything. He answers my question, but what he says isn’t something I expect.

“That bitch is old lady material. You better put your stamp on her ass before someone else does.”

With a snort, I shake my head, but he’s right. If tonight is anything to go by, she was born to be an old lady. Even if she wasn’t raised in the life, you can’t deny biology. Her bio father was a piece of shit, but he was president of an MC. Her mother a clubwhore. But James, she’s destined to be bigger, better than they ever were.

She should be a goddamn queen.

“She’s going to be a stripper at the club.”

Bugsy barks out a laugh. “Keep telling yourself that,” he murmurs before he walks away from me.

Picking up my feet, I make my way toward her and stop when I’m standing just a few feet in front of her. James’s gaze is still focused on me as I approach. She tilts her head backward, her eyes still connected with mine.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft and sweet. “Can we leave now?”

I hum, balling my hand into a fist, trying to keep from touching her. “We can leave now,” I murmur. “Let’s go home.”

Home

I really fucking said that, and I know I shouldn’t have. We’re not going to be living in the same house, let alone sleeping in the same place. But I’m still taking her home. Her new home. Where she’ll be living in her own space, and I’ll be in mine—at least, that’s what I tell myself.