Page 100 of Filthy Love

He didn’t give her an answer when he walked her to her car and made sure she got away safely. Because he had other ideas of dating and he couldn’t be seen to be fucking anything in a tight mini dress, now could he?

Tag strolled over to his bike, but before he could climb on and head back to the compound to sink a few beers and consume an egg sandwich as big as Preacher’s head, he caught a movement from the corner of his vision.

If you walked main street, it looked like any other city. Bustling traders, clean streets the shady fucker mayor paid to keep them that way. But around back, it was a whole other story. It was where the impoverish came to bed down for the night in hopes the local delis would throw out some good garbage, so they could eat that night.

Tag had experience with the down and outs since he’d spent most of his youth looking for his dad, making sure he wasn’t passed out wasted in a doorway or worse, face down in his own vomit. So, if he saw some poor guy down on his luck he made sure to stop, to ask if he was okay and to slip them some cash for food. He wasn’t dumb, he knew nine times out of ten it would go on liquor or hard drugs. Can’t save ‘em all.

He jogged over to the dude sitting on cardboard. “Yo, Mike. You okay man?”

The old man lifted his drunk-soaked head and grinned with two teeth in his mouth. At his side a young mutt lay snoring out the zeds.

“Hey, kid. Yeah, yeah, all good. You fight tonight?”

“Nah. Soon though.” He leaned down and handed the old guy some money. “You need a ride to the shelter? Gonna rain tonight.”

“Me and Shep here are just fine. Thanks, kid.”

He shrugged and left the guy in his makeshift bed.

The ride back to the compound didn’t take long since it was early hours of the morning. It was a surprise to find Rider in the main room sitting at the bar alone. Usually the prez was at home tucked up with his queen.

Dumping the holdall at his feet he straddled a stool. “You’ll be pleased to know I come bearing glad tidings, Prez.” He announced with a smirk and Rider cocked a brow. Seeing how he didn’t laugh, Tag reckoned something was up.

“You have any trouble down there tonight?”

“Not a thing.” The Russians had been trying to get in on the action and so far, they’d managed to keep them out. “What’s going on here? You’re not usually around this time of night.”

“Still my club last time I checked, don’t need to clock in and out, brother.”

Tag laughed. “Man, did Z-girl kick your ass out of bed?” Rider oozed authority, he wasn’t the biggest guy nor the scariest but if crossed he’d break your back, didn’t matter the situation and every brother was loyal to him to a fault, but if his old lady was pissed then Tag was laying money on that tiny blondie winning the war.

“No, she was driving me crazy with this party she wants to throw for Gia. For fucks sake,” he took a gulp of amber liquid, “what do I know about napkins?”

Tag suppressed a laugh, only ‘cause that was a nice segue into what he’d been wanting to talk to Rider about for the past few weeks ever since he’d heard his sister was on her way back to town.

Only Rider’s phone rang then, and he answered it with a silkyhey, Icy.So, he knew it was his old lady and Tag didn’t wanna be around if they were gonna phone sex. He slid off the stool, grabbed the bag and headed to the kitchen to fix some grub before he crashed out.

Plenty of time he reckoned to make sure it was good with Rider if he asked Gia out on a proper date.

Every time that pretty chick came to town for a visit he always wanted to, since he had feelings for her, but he never got around to it, for want of a better word he’d always been pussy-deep somewhere else. Bad timing.

Now she was home for good, there was no time like the present to stake a claim and take himself off the meat market.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“He danced me into my new chapter.” - Gia

So, this was it.

She was leaving. It was really happening today.

Emotion stung Gia’s throat.

Standing in the middle of the living room, she looked to the wall she’d hammered a nail to hang the very first picture years ago when she’d moved in. She’d been so proud to be a homeowner. She’d gotten white-girl wasted that night on cheap boxed red wine.

Now the wall was ready for the next people to make their own memories, to listen to their happy times, the sad times, to keep all their secrets.

Oh, wow. She didn’t think she’d feel this sensitive.

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