Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
I nodded. “I’m always careful,” I promised him. “We done here?”
Arlo nodded. “Yeah, we’re done here.”
We stood from the table, and I finished my drink before carrying the glass out of the room and heading for the kitchen. Konrad walked in as I was rinsing the glass out to put in the dishwasher so Blakely wouldn’t have to clean up after me. She did enough around here for all of us as it was. I knew she was getting paid, but still. She was Jax’s woman—not our maid.
“Fuck off,” I told him, my tone bitter.
He sighed. “I, uh… Christ, I feel like I’m losing my shit more often than not these days,” he confessed. I glanced at him, watching as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. Ace had no right to pry into your personal shit like that, and Shaw and I had no right to come at you like we did. Arlo explained it to us. I…” He sighed heavily, his broad shoulders rising and falling. “I don’t like it. I won’t lie. The cops here are slimy, and it makes me worry about you. But I trust you to know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not fucking stupid,” I reminded him.
He nodded. “Yeah… I know. But still, be careful, yeah? Visiting people in prison gives me the creeps.”
I snorted before nodding once at him. He left the kitchen, and I reached for a dish towel to dry my hands on before I headed out of the kitchen. When I got to my room, Shaw was sitting on the chair in the corner.
“Christ—first my date and now my room,” I muttered, shutting my door behind me hard enough to make it slam.
“I made a mistake,” he told me. “Not my most shining moment, for sure.” I only arched a brow at him. “I’m sorry. Arlo is handling Ace. I doubt he’ll apologize to you—” Yeah, I doubted that, too— “but maybe this will teach him a lesson. I know it certainly taught me one. Tensions are high, and I have to protect Amaliyah, but that’s no excuse. I should have trusted you.”
“Yeah, you should have,” I quietly said. “Don’t make this shit a habit.”
He shook his head. “I won’t. You have my word.” He glanced up at me. “Is there any chance of feelings becoming real between you and this cop?”
Scoffing, I shook my head. “Nah.” Even if they did, I wouldn’t act on them. Outlaws and cops didn’t mix.
He hummed and stood from the chair. “And if feelings do become a thing?”
I shrugged. “Won’t matter. Family first. Always.”
He sighed and clapped a hand to my shoulder as he passed me. “Yeah… we’ll just re-evaluate that if we need to.”
I frowned at his back as he opened my door. “The fuck is that supposed to mean, Shaw?”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Look at Jax and Konrad, Cameron. Their priorities, their lives, their goddamn personalities have done one-eighties since they met their significant others. I want you to know if you get attached to her… we’ll support you. So long as she never hurts this family.”
With that, he left my room, quietly shutting the door behind him. I continued to stand there and stare at the plain, wooden door, a frown on my face.
What the hell had he meant by that?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cameron
Iglanced up into my rearview mirror, snarling when I saw blue lights flashing behind me. It was pouring down rain—so much so that my windshield wipers were on full blast—and lightning was streaking across the sky, the thunder that followed loud enough to shake my fucking truck.
I wasn’t even going over the speed limit because I could barely see out of my damn windshield. These fuckers had to be petty as fuck and on a mission to get on my bad side to pull me over in this weather.
Muttering a curse beneath my breath, I hit the button for my hazards and then pulled onto the side of the road, throwing my truck in park. I grabbed my driver’s license out of my wallet and then snatched my insurance card and my truck registration out of the glove compartment before settling in to wait for these dumb fucks to make the walk to my truck to take my shit.
A few minutes later—damn near ten minutes—the driver stepped out of the car and made the walk to my truck, rain pounding down on him. Through my passenger-side rearview mirror, I saw the other patrolman get out of the passenger side, and I sighed.
Here we fucking went.
I rolled my window down, the rain lashing into my truck, when the officer knocked on the window. I arched a brow at him. “How can I help you?” I drawled, trying to hide my annoyance. I didn’t need to get hauled in, and one thing to know about cops—they could take someone in for whatever they wanted. It wasn’t their job to decide if I was actually in the wrong. That was for a judge and jury to decide.