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)
No matter how much I wanted to be with him, Cole’s controlling nature would have to change.
"You better fucking answer me right now, Amelia," he growled.
I shoved him back and yanked on my shirt and buttoned my jeans. "It's none of your damn concern, Cole. Now like I said, fuck off. I don't have time for your shit," I repeated.
"Answer me!" he roared, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
I slapped him, rage consuming my body. I would be damned if I fucking allowed him to talk to me that way. I wasn’t one of his whores. We were not in a relationship. I ran by my own fucking agenda, and I didn't answer to any fucking body. He had better learn that real fucking quick.
I wasn't prepared for his next reaction at all. He roughly pinned me there with his arm at my neck. He was breathing harshly, trying to reign in his temper. His muscles bunched in his arms as he squeezed his eyes closed. After a few moments, he stepped back and pointed at the door. "Get the fuck out of my goddamn room before I do something I'll regret," he snapped.
I grabbed my boots, and just to piss him off more, I knocked everything off of the top of his dresser. As I closed the door to his room, I heard him roaring in anger. I chuckled, smirking to myself.
Let that be a lesson to you, Cole.
I put my boots on, pulling my motorcycle keys out of my pocket. When I got to my bike, I strapped my helmet to my head and settled my ass on the seat, letting the beast rumble to life beneath me.
It was time to blow some shit up.
I walked around to the front of the warehouse, being extremely careful to not make any noise. Two men were standing in front of the warehouse doors talking. The back of their cuts read prospects. Man, the ATL was a fucking stupid ass club. You didn’t put prospects on watch duty at nighttime. Prospects didn’t know what in the hell they were watching for, and they weren’t properly trained for this kind of shit.
Making sure I had the silencer on my gun, I raised it and shot them both in the chest. It never shocked me that I didn’t feel shit when I killed someone. I had way too much bad shit happen to me in the past that I had to keep bottled up inside for me to even be considered somewhat normal. I was a fucked-up woman. Normal people didn’t kill people and not feel anything. Probably why everyone thought I was so fucking dangerous.
I slipped my gun into the waistband of my jeans and walked over to the doors of the warehouse, stepping over one of the prospect’s bodies. I pulled my bobby pin out of my hair and picked the lock. Pushing the doors open, I walked inside, my eyes widening at the ammo, guns, and drugs.
Son of a bitch, I knew that the ATL didn't have many connections, so they were stealing a lot of shit from a lot of different clubs. This place was going to explode extremely fast judging by the amount of ammo, and when I blew this place to smithereens, it was going to bring a lot of clubs onto the Black Skulls’s and the Bloody Royal’s backs.
But I had orders to follow.
I grabbed the guns that belonged to Katie and dragged them far into the woods where no one would look to find them. I rolled my shoulder afterward, ignoring the urge to rub it to ease the pain. I swear, it always hurt at the worst fucking possible times.
Checking over the guns to make sure they were all there, I decided I would ride out here tomorrow with someone and load the guns up.
I searched around the warehouse until I found something in a gas can. I didn't know what it was, but I was going to use it. I poured it on top of everything and tossed it aside. When I got to the doors of the warehouse, I bent down and lit the fluid. It smelt like gasoline, but something else was mixed with it. They obviously used this shit for the same reason that I was using it; to set shit on fire. Smelled like it had a hint of oil.
I took off running for my bike as soon as the fire started licking its way up the side of the building. I was almost there when everything started exploding. I flew to the ground with the force of the explosion. Something hot landed on my leg, setting my pant leg on fire, and I cursed, patting it until it was out.
Fuck, it burnt like a bitch.
Forcing the tears back, smelling my burnt flesh in the air, I got up and limped to my bike. I had to get back to the club house. This burn was really fucking bad, and I needed real medical attention.