Chapter 18

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

JAMES

My back straightens as a shiver of dread slides down my spine. Turning my head, I look over my shoulder at the door to the bar, waiting for it to fly open. It doesn't. The eggs in front of me suddenly don't seem appealing at all. Something is wrong. Very wrong. I just don't know what it is.

I suck in and hold my breath for a moment, closing my eyes as I let that breath out slowly. So damn slowly. When I reopen them, I expect something to be different, but it's not. Standing from the table, I abandon my eggs and walk over to the small window that looks out over the parking lot.

Nash has been gone since I woke up this morning, and while it's not odd for him to be gone all day long lately, something feels… unsettling. I'm not sure how long I stand at the little window, but it's long enough that someone notices.

A warm hand wraps around my shoulder and gently tugs. Whipping around, I tilt my head back to look up into the face of the man behind me. It's Bugsy.

"You good, babe?" he asks.

Shaking my head a couple of times, I don't look away from him. I can't. Instead, I focus on his gaze and try to find anything that is amiss behind his eyes, but there is nothing.

"Have you heard from Nash today?" I ask.

His lips twitch into a smirk. "Is that what this is?" he asks. "You worried about him."

I can't explain it without sounding like a fucking psycho. So I don't. Instead, I shrug my shoulder and bite the inside of my cheek as I try to keep from telling him that I've had a bad feeling for a while, and I'm pretty sure something happened.

Because why would I have a bad feeling? There's no reason to. This is a day just like any other day. Bugsy's eyes search mine. Then he clears his throat.

"Okay, I'll call him," he announces with a nod.

I'm not sure if he sees something in my eyes, but whatever the reason, I'm glad. I watch as he tugs his phone out of his pocket and slides his thumb across a few times, then holds the device to his ear.

I hold my breath.

He doesn't speak.

Then, he pulls his phone away from his ear and looks down at the device. His brows snap together. I can tell he is concerned, but he doesn't say that to me. Instead, he clears his throat, his gaze still focused on his phone.

"Bugsy?" I ask softly.

"He didn't answer, but that doesn't mean anything. I'll call his office at the club. Far as I know, that's where he is today."

I watch as he stabs his finger against the screen of his phone a few times, then the sound of it ringing fills my ears. I hold my breath, waiting for Nash to pick up the other end of the line, but he doesn't.

Bugsy clears his throat, then looks behind him and jerks his chin toward someone. I don't watch, my gaze transfixed on that phone, the one in his hand, knowing that Nash didn't pick up two different phones.

"Rev?" Bugsy calls out. "You got a location on Nash?" he asks.

Rev jerks his chin but doesn't call out across the bar. Instead, he moves toward us. I still get the heebie-jeebies from Rev, but if he can find Nash and assure me that my bad feelings are invalid, then I'll give him a whole second chance to prove he's not a dickhead.

If he can prove it.

I doubt this because I think that's just who he is as a person.

But when he approaches us, his phone in hand and his brows furrowed, I know something is wrong.

"Cell says he's at the club," Rev murmurs, almost as if he's talking to himself.

"He's not," I snap.

Both men's eyes snap to meet mine, but it's Rev who speaks first. "What the fuck do you know, bitch?" he growls. He lifts his hand, his arm outstretched and his fingers curling into a C shape as he reaches out for my throat. Bugsy knocks his arm away before he can choke me.

"I don't know anything," I hiss. "Except I've had a bad feeling all day, and now I'm really starting to worry."

Bugsy and Rev share a glance between one another and then nod simultaneously as if making some sort of major decision. I open my mouth to ask them what is happening, but I don't get the chance. Before I can say even a single word, both men begin marching away from me and head toward the front door.

Instead of watching them walk away, I follow behind them. My feet move as quickly as possible as I try to catch up to them. They open the door and head into the parking lot. I don't think I'm supposed to be outside, but right now, I don't care. They seem worried, which means this cannot be good.

They arrive at an SUV. I watch as they both jump into the front seats while I reach for the handle of the back. Diving into the back, I slam my seat belt in place and then jerk the door closed.

Bugsy turns his head to look at me as he starts the car. "You comin' with us?" he asks.

I snort. "I've been worried about Nash all damn day. There is no way I'm going to sit around chewing my nails and wondering."

Rev chuckles. "Let's go, brother. Let Nash ream her ass. It's not our place, and judging by the determination in her eyes, good fucking luck getting her out of this truck."

He's right.

Good fucking luck.

NASH

The noises in the background are what I hear first. Then, slowly, I open my eyes to find myself alone in a room. It's a space much like my hidden room at the club. Concrete floors and walls, and no fucking windows.

There is a single door, which is open, and there are three men standing in front of it talking. I don't try to move yet. My body feels lethargic. I'm not sure I could defend myself if something were to happen right now. So I stay still and quiet.

"What do we do now?" one of the men asks.

The one who was at the club, the one who appeared in front of me. That pencil-dicked motherfucker who hasn't done a hard day's work in his whole goddamn life, I would take bets on that.

"We just have to wait. She'll come looking for him, and then we can get this over with and head home."

This cannot be all about James. I can't fathom that she is this valuable to them. There must be more to it than this. In all honesty, I don't give a fuck if there is more to it. They cannot have her. She's mine. Now more than ever, I would fucking keep her just to spite them.

A feminine voice fills my ears. I don't recognize it off hand, but when I take in her words, I realize I know exactly who she is. "So what do I get for luring that old fuck to the club?"

Old fuck ?

I'll show her old fuck. I'm two fucking seconds from seeing if I can get up, and if I can, I'm one second away from choking that cunt out. Because when I open my eyes, I recognize her. And her face. And I know exactly who this bitch is.

Not only one of my dancers. But the bitch tied and gagged to a chair on my stage.

What the absolute fuck ?

"Go with Rob, and he'll get you your reward."

I chuckle to myself at the idea of this bitch getting her just desserts for setting me up. I can, without a doubt, be assured that wherever they're taking her is not to a bank to cash a check because, in the Southern Mafia's world, the only currency worth a damn is flesh.

After she's gone, and I'm left with just two men standing outside of my door, I decide that there's no better time than this to try and sit up. Wiggling my hands and my feet, I'm surprised that I'm not restrained.

They either know that whatever they gave me left me too weak to defend myself, or they have no idea what I'm capable of and are underestimating me. Either way, I will walk out of this alive, and they will not walk out of this at all because I will kill them.

Pushing myself up to sitting, I bite back the groan. Maybe I am an old fuck. But I'm not going to give up and let them do whatever the fuck they want to, either. I am not giving up without a goddamn fight.

And I've never lost a fight that I was in. I'm not about to start now.

"You're up," a voice purrs.

I don't bother asking his name. I honestly don't care. To me, he is Pencil Dick, and that's what he'll continue to be. Pencil Dick waltzes into the room as if he is floating on clouds, another fucking reason that I couldn't give a fuck less about this asshole. Again, he hasn't worked a fucking day in his life.

I watch as he crouches down in front of me. He tilts his head to the side and smiles. "Good morning, Nashville."

I almost growl.

But showing this man any fucking reaction to anything is something that I will not do. So I don't show him a damn thing. Instead, I incline my head and look down my nose at him. His lips turn up into a smirk.

"You brought me here to lure James," I recap.

He hums. "Yes, I did. But why?"

I almost laugh, because he thinks I'm going to play games with him. And playing a game is not something I intend on doing, ever. Not fucking ever. Clearing my throat, I bite the inside of my cheek in an effort not to actually have any kind of response.

That shit is hard with what an idiot this fucker is.

"I don't give a fuck," I state. "You kidnapped me for some fucked-up shit, and I don't want to be involved with your fucked-up shit."

He laughs, though it's not a genuine laugh. It lacks emotion of any kind. I already knew he was psychotic before, and this moment confirms it.

"You'll probably walk out of this intact as long as James comes with me."

"I wouldn't let her even if you killed me."

His smile grows wider, consuming his whole face, and then he stands up, straightening his knees before he takes a step backward. He dips his chin slightly, his eyes find mine, and he holds my gaze.

"That can be fucking arranged."

Then, without another word, he spins on his heel and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I hear the lock click into place. There's no way out of here, no other rooms, and only this door.

I'm fucking held captive, which is kind of comical because, in my forty years of being in an MC, living a life on the edge of society, it took a little twenty-year-old to get me kidnapped by some dumbass fucker.

If this pencil dick thinks he's going to kidnap me and manipulate my woman into doing whatever the fuck, he's wrong. He can't have her, and he's not going to have me either. My men will come, they will always have my back, and I'm going to end the lives of every motherfucker involved in this.

If they thought they were balls deep in a war with the Demon Guns MC, they haven't even seen the beginning of war. I'm going to decimate the whole fucking group. By the end of this ordeal, the Southern Mafia will cease to exist.

I will ensure that shit.

My son and his charter want to play games and have the Demon Guns and the Southern Mafia go to war with one another, that's fine, but I'm not sitting around and waiting for that shit to happen.

I'm going to kill them all one by one as soon as humanly possible.

Because I will be damned if someone kidnaps me, threatens me, threatens my woman, and then attempts to blackmail me.

Fuck that and fuck them.

All of them.