Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“What’s up?” I asked.
“The waitress is waiting to take your menu. Your female friend ordered for you,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes and looked up at the waitress. “What did she order for me?”
She read off the order, and I shook my head. “Please make sure it’s exactly like the menu says they make it. I want my meat.”
It just pissed me off that Devney continuously tried to order me the vegetarian option.
I had absolutely no issues with other people eating like they wanted to eat. I just didn’t want them to force-feed their ideals down my throat.
“Oh, okay.” The waitress nodded.
I handed her my menu and ordered another beer.
The waitress smiled, though it was a nervous one.
I wasn’t surprised by her reaction.
This table was filled with Truth Tellers, and you had to live under a rock not to know who we were and what we represented.
Hell, at any given time, we had at least one law enforcement agency tailing our every move—that was why we had to be so careful.
Since we were considered a one percenter club, we were categorized as a gang. And the government didn’t take lightly to gangs.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Devney said under her breath so that only I could hear. “It’s embarrassing for me when you correct me in public.”
“Then don’t be fucking stupid,” I snarled. “You know damn well that I don’t like vegetarian options. Not to fucking mention, I don’t like the fact that you continuously try to do that and force your bullshit choices on me. I eat fucking meat, Devney.”
Devney paled, but I didn’t care.
She turned her face away, causing her hair to cover her cheeks.
I turned away and once again caught Copper’s eyes.
His were saying, “You should break up with her.”
Hell, he was right.
The only reason I’d gotten with her in the first place was because it was driving me insane to see Silver looking at me at every club party.
At least with Devney on my arm, she wouldn’t look at me.
Which fucking sucked.
I hadn’t realized how much I liked Silver’s gaze staying on mine until she did her best not to do it.
And hell, I was being stupid.
I’d known it for a while, but I was a stubborn motherfucker.
I didn’t like who her fucking father was, but even I should know better than to judge someone by their parentage.
I mean, I had a shit dad myself.
At sixteen, I’d known how to fight because my dad had done his level best to kill me any time he saw me.
A punch here. A kick there.
All the while, it was because my mother wouldn’t protect herself.
Well, I’d gotten over it rather quickly, and when I finally could fight back, I did.
Eventually, my dad left, and my mom was forced to acknowledge for the first time that we’d been living in such a toxic environment that it’d been slowly killing us.
My mom had been forced to get a job and go to work. Meanwhile, I’d started my own mechanic shop out of the garage of our place, fixing anything anyone needed. Bicycles. Motorcycles. Lawn mowers. Weed eaters. Cars.
You name it, I learned to fix it, until I had my own genuine business out of my mom’s garage when I was eighteen.
By the time I graduated high school I had enough money to rent my own shop.
Life just continued to work out well from there.
Now I had five shops in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, and all of them were doing fuckin’ awesome.
My mom ran the shop at the first business, though, which was by far my busiest.
“Are you even listening to me?”
I turned, having been engrossed in listening to Dima’s conversation about a new car he’d bought, and said, “What?”
“I asked if you were even listening to me,” she repeated.
“Well, considering I was listening to Dima talk about his new Cadi, no. I didn’t hear what you had to say.” I didn’t apologize.
I didn’t see a point in apologizing for something I wasn’t sorry about.
Hell, even if I was sorry about it, I didn’t apologize.
That wasn’t who I was.
She muttered something under her breath and got up to head to the bathroom.
I turned back to Dima and asked, “Is it a V6 or a V8?”
Eight
You go ahead. I’m going to dilly dally.
—Text from Silver to Aella
SILVER
He was there, with her, again.
I hated her.
I wanted her to swallow a three-pointed tortilla chip and have it slit her throat open from the inside.
I wanted to watch her bleed out and do nothing.
Hell, my luck, Webber would just give her the Heimlich and save her life and she’d be so grateful that she’d drop down to her knees and offer him the world.
He’d probably take it, too, because he was a jerk face.
A sexy jerk face.
He was wearing his standard lineup today, though he was in a cutoff shirt this time and jeans that were so damn dirty that it showed he was working right up until he came here.