Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

JAMES

I’m not sure what it is, but something wakes me up. Sitting straight up in bed, my heart races against my chest, my eyes wild as I look around the dark room, trying to get my bearings. It takes me a moment to fully comprehend where I am.

Then I realize that I’m in bed, in Nash’s bed. Frowning, I look around and try to find the culprit or whatever woke me up, but I’m met with silence. I stay still, waiting for any sign of whatever it was to happen again, but it doesn’t.

Lying back down, I let out a sigh as Nash rolls over, slinging his arm across my stomach. “You good, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

I hum, tracing a tattoo on his shoulder. I don’t even know what it is, but there is just enough moonlight seeping in, and my eyes have adjusted so that I can make out the black lines on his skin.

“Something startled me, but I think it was just a dream or something,” I whisper.

He hums and pulls me closer, then touches his mouth to my collarbone before settling back down on the pillow. Closing my eyes, I will myself to fall back asleep. It really doesn’t matter if I sleep, though.

It’s not like I have anything pressing to do tomorrow. I can always take a nap in the middle of the day between my intense schedule of doing nothing and then doing more nothing.

“Nash,” I whisper into the darkness.

He grunts, his hand sliding up my side and curling around the top of my ribcage with a gentle squeeze to show me that he’s awake.

“I need something to do while I’m here.”

There is a long moment of silence. For a moment, I think he’s drifted off to sleep, but then he clears his throat and his lips touch my shoulder again.

“I’d say you have plenty to do, especially when it comes to me,” he murmurs with a chuckle.

I smile at his words. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” he states, then lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what to tell you. Until I know that you are safe, I’m not willing to just let you do whatever,” he says.

I don’t blame him for being cautious. I’m sure those guys are seriously bad news, and they think I belong to them.

“My mother is dead, right?” I ask into the darkness.

He clears his throat, his arms flexing around me. “Both of them are gone, sweetheart.”

I knew it. I had that feeling, and it’s been a thought in the back of my mind. “She was one of the women, like the ones I see downstairs, right?”

He hums. “A clubwhore, yeah. But you were born before she came to us.”

Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I inhale deeply, holding my breath for a moment, then let it out slowly. “I’m not sure how that feels,” I confess. “I asked you a while ago, and you didn’t tell me.”

His arms squeeze again. “It wasn’t my place, and it still isn’t, but you deserve to know.”

“And my father?” I ask.

“I don’t know him well. He’s in a rival club and tried to fuck the Dark Horse over. The Pineville chapter was involved in all of that. I was tasked with you and your protection as the last wish of your mother. And while Vixen, in the end, fucked up, we did it because we all knew deep down she was scared shitless, and that’s why she did what she did.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I don’t know if I should be pissed off or not. Maybe I should be angry or hurt. But Andrea has always been some phantom sister. She was spoken about more like a warning.

Don’t be like your sister.

Andrea has ruined her entire life.

If you continue doing what you’re doing, you’re going to end up just like your sister.

The warnings from my parents have been clearer than the actual person. If I wasn’t perfect, I was going to throw my entire life away just like Andrea.

“Did Andrea throw her life away?” I ask in a whisper.

He lifts his hand and slides his fingers through my hair, his eyes searching mine in the dark for a moment. When he answers me, his voice is throaty, as if he is convinced of his words, and that sends something warm blossoming throughout my whole body.

“Vixen lived her life the way she wanted. Maybe some people looking in from the outside would say that she threw it away because she didn’t have a house or any worldly possessions.”

Cuddling closer to him, I can’t help but think about my mother, my sister. It’s still hard to think of Andrea as my mother, but that’s who she was. She tried to give me a good life by giving me to my grandparents, but I’m not so sure it worked out.

But she tried, and that makes her motherly.

My grandparents, the people who raised me, were trying to control every aspect of my life. They tried so hard to keep me from turning into Andrea, except I ended up being worse. She sold herself to the men at the clubhouse, but it seems like they treated her well. I was willing to sell myself into the unknown.

“My grandparents were so worried I would turn out like her, and now look at me. They were right to worry.”

Nash’s hand slides up my spine, his fingers curling around the back of my neck and squeezing. “Don’t say that,” he barks.

“The Southern Mafia made me a minimal promise, and I signed it because I didn’t want to do what they demanded. Which only hurt me. I’m not sure if they even care.”

Nash dips his chin and touches his lips to mine. “You’re safe, sweetheart. You’re safe, and you’re mine. You aren’t a clubwhore or a whore of any kind. You’re the woman of the president of the Dark Horse MC.”

Letting out a long exhale, I slide my tongue along the seam of his lips. He lets out a moan, and that’s when I shift backward slightly. “Nash?” I call out softly.

He grunts. “I’m glad to be yours.” And that’s the truth. “Thank you for listening to Andrea, to my mother. I was stubborn, and she told me not to do it, but I did it anyway, and it was a mistake. But I’m not sorry I did it. Because I got you in the deal.”

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he rasps.

Closing my eyes, I do just that. Sleep immediately consumes all of me.

NASH

At what point do you tell your new girlfriend that you fucked her mom off and on for twenty years? I’m not quite sure how to broach the subject, and honest to fuck, I was hoping that I would never have to. But as I lie in bed and think about that, with James in my arms, I wonder if I should tell her.

Full disclosure and all that shit.

Mistake or not, I decide against it.

Closing my eyes, I force myself to fall asleep, and eventually, I do just that. I’m not sure how long I sleep, but when I wake up, it’s still dark outside. Reaching for my phone, I glance at the time and groan. It’s five minutes past six in the morning.

Normally, this would be an optimal time to wake up James with my mouth. But when I look at her, I can tell she’s fast asleep, and after being woken up by whatever the fuck woke her up, I let her sleep.

Slipping out of bed, I make my way to the bathroom and take a quick shower before I dress for the day and head out into the bar of the clubhouse. It’s empty, which isn’t surprising since it’s just past six. Moving toward the door, I step outside.

The morning air is calm, but it’s foggy outside, which isn’t surprising given that we’re coastal. I should probably avoid climbing on my bike and riding away with the fog, but I do it anyway.

I’m going to the club to make sure everything has been closed down properly. I’m going to go through the tapes from last night and do some accounting. If I don’t do those things, it doesn’t get done. While the other guys work with the girls and make sure that everything is running smoothly, I take care of the paperwork and finances.

Honest to fuck, it sounded a hell of a lot more fun when it was just a concept. Now it’s a fuckton of work. I’m supposed to be retired, but at the same time, I am enjoying doing something.

I didn’t think I could ever be the kind of man who could get bored. I’ve always been hustling, working for the Dark Horse, doing something, and then, when we came out here, leaving the original charter to the young guns, I felt as if I’d made a huge fucking mistake.

Moving through town without a single detour, not even for coffee, I head straight for the strip club. Maybe if I can get it done early enough, I can take James out for a ride.

She’s right.

She’s been cooped up way too fucking long in there. She’s also had to deal with some hard truths, like the fact that Vixen is dead, along with Blur. I didn’t want to tell her. I was hoping she wouldn’t ask too many questions, but it’s clear my girl is curious.

Pulling into my parking spot, I park my bike and disengage, making a mental note to text King to see if he and Shawn want a couple of visitors for a few days. I could use a dose of my grandchildren, and James could experience a whole new atmosphere, albeit a still very safe one.

Maybe if she met some old ladies, she would feel better about her situation, too. It’s hard here because there just aren’t any old ladies around. Most of the men in my club aren’t just retired. They’re also single men who, like me, were never married or men who are divorced, most multiple times.

Swiping my keycard, I hear the door unclick before I reach to tug it open. The moment I take a step inside, I can’t help but feel like something is off. Locking the door behind me, I begin to move through the dark building.

Typically, I would just go straight upstairs to my room, but I need to check the entire building. I just feel it. There is something that is just plain off. I move into the reception area. All is well. As I walk into the dance area, that’s where I see it.

There is a woman tied to a chair in the middle of the stage. I recognize her. She’s one of the dancers, but I don’t even know her name. She’s fully clothed, which kind of surprises me because if this was a sexual thing, I know, without a doubt, she would be naked.

Moving farther into the room, I stop when I am a few feet from the stage, and that’s when I notice that she’s got a gag wrapped around her mouth, keeping her from speaking. Turning my head, I look behind me and watch as a man stands from a darkened corner in the audience.

“The fuck is all of this?” I ask.

“Tell us where James Bishop is, and the girl won’t get hurt.”

Facing him fully, I place my hands on my hips and plant my legs wide as I watch this pencil-dicked fucker walk toward me in his skinny pants. What a fucking joke. What a douchebag.

“She’s not yours to have, and I’m guessing you people have bigger fish to fry right now. So I’m wondering why you’ve sent someone else here who will undoubtedly not return back home.”

A veiled threat that is really a promise. This asshole will not walk out of here, not without a damn good fight. And he doesn’t look like he’s been in many of those, if any. This is someone who orders thugs to do his dirty work.

His hands remain clean.

My hands are forever fucking dirty and stained.

Then something happens. I feel something sharp at my neck, and as if it happens in slow motion, my body begins to fall. I can’t stop myself. I can’t even catch myself. I go down, but I don’t feel myself hit the floor—everything goes dark.