Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 29

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

NASH

James holds on around my waist as I guide the bike toward the clubhouse. I’m not even sure I can call it a clubhouse any longer. It’s a pile of burned shit and crumbled concrete bricks.

Today, I’m meeting with a contractor to find out just how much this is going to cost. We didn’t have insurance. You can’t have insurance when you’re doing illegal shit. Too many things could go wrong, and the last thing we need are adjusters or anyone else poking around.

Now we have to pay for a whole new fucking building ourselves, which is the goddamn downfall. Thankfully, the strip club makes more than enough that we can afford to build a new clubhouse and do it better than before.

Pulling up to the rubble, I kill the engine and stare straight ahead. James climbs off my bike and moves toward the wreckage. Watching her for a moment, I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking.

Throwing my leg over my bike, I disengage and make my way toward her. Placing my hand on the small of her back, I bend slightly and touch my lips to her temple before I speak. “You good, sweetheart?” I keep my voice soft.

She hums, turning her head slightly as she looks up at me. “I still can’t believe this happened.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “It was bad. But we’ll be good, sweetheart.”

She gives me a sad smile and opens her mouth but shuts it as another bike pulls up. It’s the contractor, a brother from the chapter in Houston. He builds and remodels clubhouses exclusively, and he makes fucking plenty of money, especially since we’ve been adding all these new clubs to our fold.

I watch as he parks his bike and then disengages before he makes his way over to us. He jerks his chin, his lips curving up into a smile as his eyes slide over James and back to me. He doesn’t say anything to me, but he is staring a little harder than I fucking appreciate. Clearing my throat, I watch as he jerks his head back slightly and shifts his attention back to me.

“What you got for me?” I ask.

He nods a couple of times before he holds up his finger, spins around on his heels, and jogs toward the bike. I watch as he digs around in his saddle bags, then brings out some papers. He makes his way back to us, crouches down to the ground, and lays out the papers.

They’re plans.

“You already have plans drawn up?” I ask.

He turns his head slightly to look back at me. “Yeah, it wasn’t hard. Took the typical clubhouse format but made it fuckin’ better because you’re all the OGs, and you deserve fuckin’ better.”

I snort. OGs is right, heavy on the old part, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I listen to him, my eyes scanning the plans as he speaks. “I put in five bedrooms with en suites on the top floor. The second floor is set up in a dorm room style with two bathrooms. Each bathroom will have three shower stalls and three bathroom stalls.

“The first floor will, of course, be the bar and the clubwhores’ quarters. Then, below, you’ll have the holding cells. Four of them, with two-way mirrors and a room to watch from the other side.”

“Holy shit, this is fuckin’ amazing. You’re a genius,” I mutter as I take in the use of the space. We won’t be cramped, every fucking body will have a place, and there will be room to grow.

“It’s a larger version of a plan I’ve built a few times. I think it’s the dream vision for a clubhouse. Perfect for you.”

It is perfect for me. Even though I don’t plan on staying here forever, it’s the perfect fucking clubhouse. “How much is this gonna cost me?” I ask.

That’s when his lips curve up into a grin. “A hell of a lot.”

Laughing, I shake my head a few times before I speak. “It’ll be worth it.”

I know it will, too. Even if I never spend one night there, I know it will be exactly what it needs to be for this club. “How long will it take?” I ask.

“Six months, start to finish if we get started right away.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

I don’t need the club to approve this. No vote fucking necessary. As president, I am making this shit fucking happen.

Then, once they’re set up, I’m out.

James doesn’t want to be here, she doesn’t want to be the queen of this club, and I don’t fucking blame her. I don’t think I want her to be queen, either. She’d be too much of a goddamn target.

“I’ll get my crews started,” he says as he stands.

“Thanks, brother,” I murmur, shoving my hand out to shake his.

He smiles, dipping his chin as he shakes my hand. “Keep those plans. Show the guys. I’ll have a crew come out next week and get started clearing this shit out.”

Without another word, he turns and walks over to his bike. I watch him for a moment until the bike disappears, then I turn to James. She’s watching me but appears confused. I start to ask her what’s wrong, but she speaks.

“When are you going to tell me?” she asks.

“Tell you?”

She nods her head once. “Tell me,” she whispers.

I watch James for a moment and wonder how in the absolute fuck she’s got me figured out when I’m not even sure if I have my shit figured out yet. “I haven’t made a decision yet,” I rasp.

“But you’re thinking about it.”

Dipping my chin in a single nod, I clear my throat before I speak. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m thinking about it.”

“And you’re thinking about what exactly?” she demands.

I grin. Goddamn, I love this woman. Twenty years old, but she doesn’t act like it. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman like her in my whole fucking life, and I know without a doubt that I never will again.

Which is why I can’t lose her. Not to this life, not to enemies, and I sure as fuck can’t lose her by making fucked-up mistakes. So, I’m going to make a decision that will hopefully keep us together for-fucking-ever.

And happy.

Call me crazy, but I want to have peaceful happiness.

JAMES

Nomad.

I don’t know what that word means, but I can tell it’s a big decision, and it’s a big damn deal. Chewing my bottom lip, I watch him before I turn away. I don’t know what the hell to say to him because I feel like this is a monumental thing.

“Nashville?” I call out, my back to him, my focus on the pile of rubble.

He doesn’t say anything, but I hear his approach, and then I feel his hands wrap around the sides of my waist. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You built this, all of it, and you’re going to walk away?” I ask.

He shakes his head once, then clears his throat. “I did build it, but I’m not walking away from anything.”

“You aren’t?” I ask.

Watching him for a moment, I frown. I’m not sure what to say exactly. He’s talking about living on the road. I mean, I assume that’s what he’s saying, being nomadic. I’m not sure I want to live like that.

But then again, I’m not sure I want to live here. I take a deep breath. “I’m not walking away from anything. This club is still mine. I started it, and it will always be part of me.”

“Nash, I don’t want you to think that you have to do this for me. This is your world, and you just did someone a favor by taking me off that truck.”

His brows snap together, his eyes focused on mine before he speaks. “I didn’t do a favor for anyone, James. I protected someone who was part of the club, and then I fell in love with her.”

“Okay,” I exhale. “But you don’t have to leave here. I know you love it and these men. You love your club.”

My breath hitches as his palm cups my cheek and his eyes search mine. He slides his thumb across my bottom lip. My tongue sneaks out, and I touch it to the pad of his thumb.

“I love my club. And this way, I get to continue to be part of it. But I don’t have to do that here.”

Shaking my head, I wrap my fingers around his wrist. I’m not sure how to respond, so I stay silent. Nash doesn’t, though. He presses his lips together for a moment. Then he releases them.

“You are a target not just because of the Southern Mafia but because of me. Because of who I am and what I stand for. The strip club also takes a lot of my time, and I’m not sure I need to devote my life to it any longer.”

Tears fill my eyes, and I blink them away. This man. I know without a doubt that I did absolutely nothing in this life to deserve it, to deserve him, but he’s mine. And as selfish as it is, I know I’m keeping him. I’m keeping all of him. Nobody else can have him. Not ever again. He’s mine, and I’m his, and that’s just the way it’s going to be until we stop breathing.

“I don’t want you to give up something you love,” I whisper.

He shifts closer to me, his lips almost touching my own before he whispers. I can feel his breath wash over my face and his words… They make my heart beat faster and harder with each word spoken.

“I love you, James,” he rasps. “I love my club, and I love you. I can love separately, but I’ve spent the past thirty-five years devoted to this club. It took a front seat when it shouldn’t have. I missed out on a lot of shit because of it, and I’m not willing to do that one minute longer.”

My body trembles at his words. I don’t know what to say or what to do, so I continue to stare at him as he continues to speak. He goes on to tell me just how he wants his future to look, and I have to admit that it sounds really damn good.

I want that—the life he describes. I want his world, I want his love, and I want his future—our future.

“I don’t want you to miss out on anything, but I also don’t want you to regret anything, either.”

He shakes his head once, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do you know that I have regrets?” he asks. I open my mouth to tell him no but snap my lips shut when he continues. “And not a single one of my regrets is because I missed a day at the club. My regrets center around Elvis and his childhood, nothing else.

“Going nomad will give me the flexibility I want. I’m not ready to move back to Pineville, and I don’t feel as devoted as I should to this club down here. I need a break, and I want to start my life with you.”

I don’t ask him how we can start a life on the move. It doesn’t seem like the right time. I have a feeling that he might get angry if I say something. I need to stay quiet and let him have his moment.

He dips his chin, his lips touch mine, and as soon as his tongue slips inside of my mouth, all thoughts of nomadic living, strip clubs, and motorcycle clubs vanish because I want him to rip my clothes off and fuck me right here on this burned rubble.