Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I don’t bother getting on my bike. I just jog over to the mill and go straight to my room. I don’t know that I need privacy, but I’d like to talk to Ford about my plans with Shelby. He needs to know that I’m going to be leaving the club.
Most of the men here are staying in the open basement. For whatever reason, Hangman gave some of us our own rooms. They’re tiny—barely enough room for a full-size bed and a television with a small stand under it. The room where Ford stayed had a bathroom. I don’t have that luxury, but I don’t really care. I’ve slept in much worse. Flopping down on the bed, I dial Ford’s private number. I’m dreading this conversation because I know he won’t like my decision. I don’t really like it myself but feel like I don’t have a choice. I need to make this work with Shelby. I made promises and I’m not going to turn my back on them. If I do that, I’m no better than Dragon.
I frown at that thought. I’m confused. I’m still not sure the man my mother portrayed is who Dragon is. I saw the pictures and things he had his club send. There was a video clip that showed my mother slipping something into Dragon’s drink. Another one showed him talking to a man in a Saint’s Outlaw’s cut and kicking him out of the clubhouse with his old lady—who was apparently my mother. I had no idea that my mother ever belonged to any club. I need to talk to Hangman about it, but I haven’t found my nerve just yet. I’m almost afraid of what I will find.
Could it be possible that Dragon was telling the truth and he didn’t know about me?
“King, I was just getting ready to call you,” Ford says when he answers, thankfully pulling my attention away from my mother and the clusterfuck of secrets that surround me.
“Sorry, it has been busy here. We’re getting ready to ride to Rutledge. By calculations, we’ll be there sometime around midnight. I think the plan is to attack around one in the morning.”
“You guys sure you got all the firepower you need?”
“Oh yeah. There are a couple branches of the Savage Brothers still here and the same with Devil’s Blaze. Some guy named Beast showed up with his crew this morning. We’re good.”
“You need to be careful out there.”
“Always am. Is there anything going on down that way I need to know about?” I don’t think anything about it when I ask, but as Ford goes silent, I worry. “Ford? Do I need to come back?” I press when he remains quiet.
“No. The club is fine. It’s not that, brother.”
“Then, what is it? I can tell something is going on.”
“Yeah. Shit, man—”
“Just spit it out,” I grumble, needing to know what is going on.
“Shelby came by today.”
“Fuck, I missed her. I needed to talk with—”
“She wasn’t alone, King.”
“Huh?” I prompt, not sure what he’s getting at.
“She filed for divorce, King. There was a state police with her. He was serving papers. They could only serve them to you, but I know the guy. I agreed to take them and told him he could always tell them I lied and said I was you if there were issues.”
“I’ll head back the minute this is done. I think I know how to get her to drop it all. I’ll have to—”
“King, I think you should know she moved in with the cop. They’ve been living together for almost a month.”
“A month? How is that possible? We’re still together. I mean, she’s been away with her grandmother—”
“Her grandmother decided to move into a retirement village very close to where this cop lives. Shane—that’s the cop’s name—told me himself.” I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve been a fool. “King?”
“I’m fine. I may stay down this way a little longer. Ship me the papers to the SOMC’s clubhouse. I’ll sign them and send them back.”
“Brother—”
“It’s fine, Ford. Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to you once we get finished in Rutledge.”
“Watch your back, King. You hear me?”
“I hear you. Don’t forget to mail those papers.”
“I won’t. I’m damn sorry, brother.”
“Yeah, me too,” I answer, hanging up.
I stare at my phone and throw it against the wall.
“Motherfucker!” I yell.
I stand up and punch the fucking wall, my fist going through the cheap ass paneling that’s been painted over with some shitty yellow color. The destruction does nothing to make me feel better. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the picture of Shelby that I snapped on our wedding day. I look at the purple dress she was wearing. It’s one I bought her a couple of weeks before our wedding. Her favorite color is purple and when I saw it hanging in the window, I knew she would love it. Right now, I’d love to burn the damn thing. I don’t have it, so I do the next best thing. I pull out my lighter and light the corner of the photo. I throw it in a glass ashtray that is sitting on the TV stand and watch the flames eat up the photo until finally I can’t see Shelby’s face anymore. It doesn’t help my pain, but it allows me to contain some of my anger.