Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
“You can’t make sense out of hate, Shelby. People who harbor it inside of them may pick different ways for it to come out and have different targets, but in the end, it’s only hate. I’ve dealt with it my whole life and the best you can do is realize it for what it is and refuse to let it change you. You have to try not to let it affect the man—” I glance at her giving her a wink, “or woman you are.”
“Realize it for what it is?” she asks, she repeats.
“Yeah babe. Hate is a twisted, dangerous disease coming from weak minds.”
Shelby leans over kissing me on the cheek. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that.”
For a moment all I can do is take in her words and touch. She’s a beautiful woman inside and out. I glance at her again as she settles back into her seat, drinking her in. Her presence and kindness bring me a sense of calm when everything else is chaotic.
I click the call button and holding my phone to my left ear, listening to it ring until Ford answers. I’m not sure what Ford will say so I don’t put it on speaker.
“Man, please tell me you’re calling to put an end to this shit. I’m not you and I can’t even stand the bitter taste this is leaving in my damn mouth. We will blow those fuckers right off the map and just let the chips fall. We’ve weathered worse and we did that without having the allies we do now.”
The fact that I’m not the only one suffering through this plan is a little bit of a relief, but that’s not why I’m calling him.
“It’s already done. We will see what shakes out,” I tell him, glancing at Shelby, who’s still lost in thought.
“Fuck,” Ford cusses. “Then why are you calling?”
“Remember when I told you I was claiming Shelby and may need the club to protect her and her grandmother?”
“Yeah,” Ford responds.
“Someone struck out at the grandmother and trashed her diner. I know most of the guys hate me right now, but I could use at least some prospects to help get it boarded up and picked up until insurance springs for repairs.”
Ford is quiet for a minute. “Think this has to do with you and the club?”
“No, but I have a good idea what’s going on. We can discuss it later.”
“Fair enough. I’ll get guys over there.”
“Bring cages. Its close enough to the end of our territory line that we don’t want to bring unwarranted attention.”
“Fuck,” Ford curses under his breath before hanging up.
Pulling up to the diner, its worse than I imagined. All the big windows are shattered, the glass door too. “No!” Shelby cries out, nearly jumping from the car before it’s fully stopped, slamming her door behind her as she goes.
I throw the SUV in park, chasing her up to the building that’s taped off. “Shelby!” I can tell she doesn’t even hear me as she sprints into the building.
I stop in the doorway just behind her. Her body is trembling as she cries. She stands there looking around at the mess. The leather on all the booths and chairs are sliced open, chairs are turned over and smashed, walls are vandalized with spray paint. One wall stands out more than the others.
You’re mine, Bitch. The red paint dripping from the words make it look eerily like blood.
I pull Shelby into my arms, trying to hide her from the mess. She’s trembling in my arms. “It’s him. It’s him.” She keeps repeating it over and over, each time sounding more broken.
I barely contain my anger, trying to keep a cap on it while Shelby cries. I didn’t want to be right.
I’m going to kill this motherfucker.
Chapter 21
King
I pick her up, letting her cling to me as I make my way to the SUV. I set her on the hood of the SUV, before opening her door and setting her on the passenger seat with her feet dangling out. I leave her sitting there a moment while I fish out napkins from the glove box for to her to dry her eyes.
“Breathe, beautiful,” I whisper softly, dabbing her cheeks. “It’s going to be okay. Billie is good. This place can be rebuilt. It will all be okay.”
Tears are still streaming down her face as sobs wrack through her body. Her breath is ragged as it hitches in her throat when she tries to talk.
“It-Its Mason,” she says. “I know it is. He’s mad. He called me. That’s why I broke my phone. I told him to leave me alone and that it’s over. I hung up on him and now he’s sending a message.”
“You could be wrong. If it is him, why would he attack Billie? Why not come after you and your house?” I think she’s right, but I don’t want her to carry the blame. This is all that asshole’s fault.