Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 34

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FOUR

JAMES

Maybe for the second time in my life, I haven’t completely fucked everything up. But only maybe, because I’m not sure. Gil drives toward a hotel, a really nice one. Like, so nice it’s got valet.

A few moments later, I’m out of the car, barefooted and all as I walk through the lobby. I can see the looks of the other guests out of the corners of my eyes.

I almost laugh, because I think I’ve seen this movie before. I’m not a hooker, but this short dress and no shoes makes me look like I could be one.

We make our way up to the penthouse. This doesn’t surprise me. Gil doesn’t seem like someone who would have a double queen room. Of course, he’s got the penthouse. It’s really nice, too, but it’s sterile and cold. It’s nothing like Nash’s house.

I already miss it.

“You want some dinner?” he asks as soon as we walk into the living area.

“I’m not hungry,” I whisper as I move toward the window.

I hear Gil murmuring in the background. I ignore him, staring out at the darkness. A few moments later, I hear him approach, but he doesn’t get close enough to touch me. I can’t even feel his heat.

“It’s the ocean,” he rasps. “It’s pretty in the daylight.”

“I haven’t been to the ocean yet,” I whisper.

There’s a moment of silence. I don’t know if he’s looking at me or just standing behind me. I don’t care either. I want Nash to be here. Gil clears his throat, and that’s when I turn around to face him.

“As much as I want to keep you here in an effort to make Nash sweat, I don’t think it’s something he would appreciate.”

“And you want him to appreciate you?” I ask.

He chuckles, lifting his head as he slides his fingers through his hair. “Yes, I do,” he murmurs. “I want this deal to go through. It’s mutually beneficial, and I have my own woman. So taking you wasn’t ever my endgame anyway.”

“What’s your endgame, Gil?” I ask.

He shakes his head, then clears his throat. “I could tell you, but I’m not going to.”

Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times before taking a step backward. My back touches the window as I wait for him to continue. He claims he’s not going to tell me anything, but I can tell he wants to.

This is a man who does not keep things close to the vest. He is, without a doubt, dying to say something. There is a moment of silence as he takes me in, then he lets out a heavy sigh.

“There’s nothing about my business that you need to know. Just understand that this is less about you and Nash and more about the Southern Mafia’s future.”

Well, that’s a load of horseshit, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I give him a small smile. I honestly don’t care about his business. My focus is on Nash and only Nash. I don’t even care what happens to me.

“Have a seat. I ordered some food and wine.” Chewing on my bottom lip, I nod once. “Nash will be here before the food probably,” he says with a chuckle. “He seemed really fucking interested in the fact that I had you here with me.”

Shit.

Nash is going to be so pissed.

So beyond pissed.

Walking over to the sofa, I sink down on the cushion, cursing myself for being such a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have run. I shouldn’t have freaked out. I should have gone to the bathroom and then returned to the table.

I think I might have really screwed up.

I should have trusted him.

I take a deep breath. “You look like you’re about to be sick,” Gil mutters.

“I think I might be,” I whisper.

He snorts. “You’re just now realizing that you fucked up big time?” he asks.

“Huge.”

Gil chuckles as he walks over to the refrigerator that’s in the kitchen area. I watch as he opens it, then grabs hold of a bottle of water before he turns to face me. His eyes meet mine as he twists the top off the water.

“Nash loves you. He’ll forgive you.”

Honestly, as much as I’ve tried to push him away, I’m surprised he would still love me. If he even takes me back home with him, I might actually die of shock. I’ve fucked up so big. Every single turn, I mess up more. I hate myself for it. I’m self-sabotaging, and I don’t know why.

“I don’t think he’ll forgive me,” I whisper.

Gil brings the bottle of water to his lips, taking a pull before he levels me with a gaze. “He’ll forgive you. He might be pissed at you. He might angry fuck you, but he will forgive you. If you’re worth forgiving.”

I want to laugh in his face, but I don’t. Instead, I bring my feet up to the sofa and wrap my arms around my shins. Resting my chin against the tops of my knees, I stare straight ahead. He watches me, and then his brows snap together, and an expression of concern crosses his face.

“He’ll forgive you because you’re his pretty young thing in his bed.”

His words aren’t meant to cut me, but they do. They slice me in half. I don’t want to be just his pretty young thing. I want to be his woman, his everything. Because that’s who Nashville is to me—everything.

“Nash doesn’t care if I’m twenty or sixty,” I murmur. “I betrayed him by running away, and that’s all he is going to focus on.”

Gil lets out a hearty laugh, then he clears his throat and opens his mouth to speak. But before he can get even a single word out, there is a loud, booming knock on the door. His gaze flicks to the closed door, then back to meet mine.

“Seems like we’re going to find out, but you’re wrong, James. So fucking wrong. That man is fucking thrilled to have a pretty young thing by his side. And even more so that he’s fallen in love with you. You, James, are not just an ornament. You’re his woman.”

God.

Gil’s words make me hate myself even more.

This man, who has only met Nash a couple of times, can see more about our relationship than I can. I want to curl into a ball and die right this second. I want this shit to end because I screwed up big time.

So big that I don’t think there is any way out of this.

NASH

I could fucking kill her. Although, if I kill her, then I can’t punish her. So that wouldn’t work. And even though I’m pissed as fuck, I still love her, another reason why I wouldn’t want to kill her.

But Gil.

Gil, I can kill—and I would do so happily, too.

Riding my bike toward the hotel where he said they were staying, my breathing becomes labored, and my heart slams against my chest. My chest fucking hurts, and I wonder offhandedly if I’m going to have a heart attack. But then my side begins to ache, and I forget all about my chest.

The hotel comes into view, and I pull my bike up to the front. A man rushes toward me as soon as I throw my leg over my machine. He crowds me. Tipping my chin down slightly, I look into his eyes.

“Keys?” he asks, extending his palm.

Flicking my gaze to his hand, I slowly lift it to meet his eyes and shake my head once. “No,” I state. “Absolutely fucking not,” I clarify.

“For valet,” he murmurs.

“Don’t give a fuck what it’s for. You can’t have my fuckin’ keys.”

Without another word, I walk past him and head straight for the elevator banks. The valet calls out for me, but I ignore the fuck out of him because I have somewhere more important to be rather than standing around outside of a hotel bitching about valet.

The elevator doors ding, then slide open, and I step inside, placing one foot in front of the other, trying to breathe. I’m so fucking pissed off, so ready for this shit to be done. I’m not sure what I’m going to walk into, but I’m sick to fucking death of the Southern Mafia. I’m sick of the wars, of it all.

Maybe it’s my age. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been dealing with these fucks for too many decades to count. Maybe it’s because I’ve finally found a woman who I want to share my life with, and she won’t fucking stay put.

When the elevator doors open, I move forward into what I assumed would be a hallway. But instead, I’m met with a door. Just one. There is nothing else here. So this is what it is to stay in the penthouse. It must be a sweet deal.

Lifting my hand, I ball my fingers into a fist and pound on the door twice. Straining, I try to hear something on the other side of the door, but there is nothing. It’s completely fucking silent.

Frowning, I take a step back and wonder if I’m in the right place or maybe I need to figure out my own way inside.

The door flies open, and I’m met with Gil. He’s still in a suit, his eyes are narrowed, and he grunts, taking a step backward. Once I’m inside the room, I see her sitting on the sofa. James lifts her head, her eyes find mine, and I can’t help but notice the way she flinches at the sight of me.

“Now,” Gil calls out, “before you lose your shit, I didn’t take her. I just happened to find James walking around in the dark.”

“Just happened to find her?” I ask, shifting my attention from him to James.

I could fucking strangle her right now—especially while I was fucking her. I’m pissed off, but seeing how nervous she seems, unsure, and completely uneasy makes me pause, for a moment at least.

“James?” I ask. “He just happened to find you?”

Her tongue peeks out, sliding across her bottom lip before she dips her chin in a single nod. I watch as she slowly stands on trembling legs. She looks terrified, though I’m not sure why she’d be scared of me even though I’m seconds away from throttling her in more ways than one.

James slowly approaches me, standing just a few feet away before she speaks. “I got scared. I didn’t know what was going to happen. I knew it would be easier if I was out of the equation. Your family, your grandkids, that’s who matters. Not me.”

“Bullshit,” I snap.

Her eyes widen, her lips part, and she clears her throat. She opens her mouth to speak, but I don’t let her because I don’t want to hear another goddamn word of her bullshit. I’m done. And if she’s going to walk away after this, I won’t be chasing her—at least that’s what I tell myself.

The reality is that I’ll probably always chase James Bishop.

“I fucking told you that I got you, James. You don’t fuckin’ trust me. You’re so goddamn scared of everything,” I hiss. “When I tell you that I got this, I fuckin’ got this.”

Instead of waiting for her to respond, I shift my attention to Gil. He’s watching us but standing far enough away that he likely didn’t hear me.

“Finalize the deal,” I demand.

“What about the rest of your club?” he asks.

This is a man who understands the importance of a chain of command, and I can appreciate that. But I don’t give a fuck right now. My woman needs this deal done, and I’m going to give her what she needs.

“Let me handle that part. Finalize it.”

He dips his chin in a single nod, his gaze searching mine. “The ceasefire?” Gil asks.

“Cancel the hit on my woman,” I demand.

Gil’s lips curve up into a smile. “In a show of good faith, I’ll cancel that right now.”

Without me having to ask him, he takes his phone out of his pocket and places the call on speakerphone. The hit is canceled. And I do the same. Although Atomic sounds pissed, I tell him the situation or what he needs to know about it, promising a meet to explain it all in detail soon. I ask him to trust me, and thankfully, he does.”

“Any men I have in the South will be gone within the week,” Gil states.

I reach for James’s hand but don’t take her palm in mine until she places it there herself. Only then do I curl my fingers around her palm and turn toward the door. I take one step, then another, then stop and look back over my shoulder.

“Your men don’t pull out, I’ll call off the ceasefire. And we will not stop until you’re dead.”

Gil dips his chin, his eyes focused on mine, and I can see understanding behind his gaze. “I’m not Conrad or anyone in that fucking family. This is a new Southern Mafia. I’m done with this little shit.”

“I don’t want to be included in the big shit,” I point out.

He chuckles. “I’m going international, Nashville. You’re no longer on my radar. Enjoy your life with your woman there,” he says, dipping his chin to James.

Without another word, I guide her out of the room, head straight for the elevator, and then we’re inside the car and heading straight down. We need to have a discussion, she and I, but it’s not going to happen here.

In fact, it’s going to wait until we are at home—alone.