Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 83872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
"Okay? I didn't ask you to be concerned about me, Cole. So fuck off," I snapped.
He stood up and leaned over me. His face was unreadable, as usual, but his eyes had a million different emotions running through them. "No, you didn't ask me to be concerned," he said quietly. "However, that doesn't fucking change the fact that I am. So, what in the hell exactly happened last night? My mom told me she sent you out to bomb the warehouse, but I want to hear it from you. What happened?"
I snorted. "I'm not telling you shit. Thank you, however, for bringing your mother up. I need to talk to her."
He grabbed my chin in his hand, forcing me to meet his eyes. I hated it when he did this. "You're not talking to my mother until you talk to me, understand? Now, what in the hell did you do last night? I want all the details."
I sighed. I knew Cole was going to be like this. He probably was only trying to make me feel like he cared so that he could get the information he needed. Obviously, his mother wasn't going to tell him. Well, hell, she had nothing much to tell him anyway considering I hadn't yet told her anything either. Might as well tell Cole considering he'll probably be going on the run with his mom to ship the guns.
"Alright. Give me room to breathe, and I'll fucking tell you," I spat at him.
He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. I ran a hand down my face. "I rode out to the warehouse last night, dragged your guns into the woods where they wouldn’t be found, and lit the warehouse on fire. I was trying to get back to my bike when I was knocked to the ground by the explosion and a board fell on top of my leg." I looked up and let my eyes meet his, sighing. "I don't think we're the only people the ATL are stealing from, and if that's true, then I just brought a lot of clubs on our asses, especially if those drugs came from other clubs."
Cole cursed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "That's fucking great. Didn't you think of that before you decided to blow the warehouse to fucking smithereens?"
I rolled my eyes. Hello, I was only following orders! "Cole, I was only doing what your mother told me to do. There's not much more I can do about that."
He glared at me. "Right now, we're still split charters, Amelia. You only follow my dad's orders; you're under no obligation to follow my mother's."
Did he really think it was that easy? Things didn't work like that with his mom; he knew that as well as I did. So, why in the hell was he trying to make it sound that easy?
"Cole, you know as well as I do that when it comes to your mother, nothing is ever simple. It was easier for me to just do what she asked than to go against her. And who's to say that she wouldn't have just had someone else do it besides me if I turned her down?"
Cole rubbed his temples. “At least it wouldn’t have been you.” Then, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
I frowned at him. What was that supposed to mean?
Cole
I walked into the chapel and took my seat beside my mom. I was absolutely livid about what Amelia had done. I was pissed at my mother and Amelia, and they both knew it. I sure as hell didn't make it a secret. I had yelled at my mother over the phone and then at Amelia once I got off of the phone with my mom. When we got back to the club house, I proceeded to yell at them again. It had done nothing to calm me down.
"Alright, let's start with the biggest problem we've got at hand right now," Mom began. "Amelia bombed the ATL's warehouse under my orders. She suspects that the ATL have been stealing guns and drugs from other clubs. If they find out we were the ones to blow up that warehouse, shit’s going to go downhill—fast."
I glared at her. "Which is exactly why you don't fucking act on your own," I harshly reminded her. "Decisions like you decided to make are supposed to be club decisions."
Dad slammed his hand flat on the table. "Cole, that's enough. Keep your personal problems away from the table."
I glared at him. Personal problems? My mother—his wife—just fucking decided to jeopardize both fucking clubs because she was more worried about her fucking shipment of guns than doing things the fucking smart way! Because of her idiotic actions, a club member was injured. How in the hell was that personal?