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“Obviously, since I'm still sitting here,” I retorted. “You don't want to spend more time with your mom?”
He rolled his eyes and knocked back both shots when they were set in front of him. “I'm trying to postpone the inevitable while I still can, so want to go find a room?”
I set my beer down, getting ready to take him up on his offer when a hand clamped over my wrist. “Clayton, she's not going anywhere with you.”
I glanced up at Cole’s face and snatched my wrist away from him. I wasn't too keen on being held in a compromising position like that—not after being put in thousands of compromising positions for five months in jail. “I'll catch up with you later, Clay,” I quietly told his brother, my body very aware of how close Cole was to me and the desire curling in my stomach at his close proximity.
Clay nodded and walked off. Cole took the seat Clay had been sitting in just moments before. “I should have known you were in jail, Amelia,” Cole snapped, cutting straight to what was bothering him. I sighed, not wanting to have this conversation. “That's business both clubs should have known about. I had a right to know considering I'm in line to become the president of the Black Skulls and the Bloody Royals.”
I rolled my eyes, picking my beer back up and taking a sip. “You guys would have done something stupid to the person who ratted me out,” I told him bluntly. He clenched his jaw. “I talked to Travis as soon as I was able to get my hands on a phone, and we decided that keeping my time in jail a secret was the best decision for everyone. If you guys had retaliated, the whole club would have gone down, and that's just what the sheriff wanted.”Not to mention, the bitch inside who made my life hell and the ATL fuckers who wanted a war.
This was the thing with the clubs. If there was a rat anywhere—in or out of the club—the rat would no longer live. Sometimes, the members of the club tended to do stupid shit when they were angry. I wouldn't let the club go down for this. I had a job; I did it, and there happened to be a witness who ratted me out. My problem—not the Black Skulls’ or the Bloody Royals’. I would take any beating any day to protect this club, this family.
“Amelia, you’re family,” Cole said. “We wouldn't have done anything to put the club in any kind of situation we couldn't handle, and you know that.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Right, because everyone wasn't still all wound up about Katie being gone.” I told him. Nine years later, and the club was still pissed about her being locked up. “You sons of bitches went after the cop who fucking put her in cuffs and killed him. You almost ruined the clubs then, and it was hell. I wasn't willing to risk that again. It was only five months inside anyway. It wasn't a big deal.”
Well, it was, but I wouldn't let him know that.
He clenched his jaw. I knew from experience that he was working hard to control his anger. Since Katie had gone inside, Cole’s temper had escalated. He liked to break things, beat the hell out of people, things like that. He wasn't one to make angry, but I never learned my lesson. We all knew that if he put a hand on a woman, he’d pay the price. But Cole had enough respect for women to never put his hands on them; that much, I did know.
Besides, I could never picture Cole hurting me anyway. Despite us butting heads more often than not, I knew he had a soft spot for me.
“Who stabbed you?” he asked after a moment, nodding toward my shoulder that was hidden under my cut.
I smirked at him, loving the fact I could still make him worry about me. I knew he tried so hard to hide what he felt for me, but it was there. He just had to give in to it.
“Cole, give up. I'm not telling you anything. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find Clay or someone. I'm in need of a good lay.”
Tonight, I just wanted to get shit-faced and get laid. Dwelling on and reminiscing on the past would only ruin my mood, and then my plans were going to go down the drain like water. I wasn't planning on sitting at this bar all night drinking away my problems.
I slid off of the stool, and Cole grabbed my wrist, pulling me to him and wrapping an arm around me. “Why don't we go find a room?” he huskily prompted.
I leaned up on my toes and kissed him, ignoring the pool of desire in my belly that was practically demanding me to take him to a bedroom instead of someone else. Kissing Cole made my head spin. It made me want to give him anything he wanted.
I smirked when I pulled back from his lips and patted his cheek. “Maybe some other time, Cole.”
I walked away and went to go find Clay.
* * *
Cole
I stormedinto the chapel the next morning, shoving the doors open with so much force that they crashed loudly against the walls. I was pissed. I hadn't gotten any sleep last night because of what I had found out about Amelia.
For fuck’s sake, she had spent five months inside, and only three—well four fucking people—knew about it before last night. She had been stabbed, and who the fuck else knew what had happened to her in there.
Amelia was club family, and we took care of what was ours. Were we fucking losing sight of that all of a damn sudden? This wasn't Dad and Amelia's call. The club should have known. We should have retaliated, and we would if it was the last fucking thing we did.
Amelia was the only goddamn woman that wasn't blood that I actually cared about—besides my Aunt Amy, of course. I knew I had feelings for Amelia, but I wasn't willing to let any feelings for her grow any stronger. If I did, I'd want to be closer to her, and being closer to her meant putting her in a lot of danger considering all of the people that wanted me dead. I had a pretty bad past, and Amelia wouldn't be able to handle it.
Though that didn't mean that I wouldn't do everything in my fucking power to hurt whoever hurt her and to protect her to the best of my ability.
My dad and mom looked up, as did all the other members at my loud entrance. “You're a few minutes late, aren't you, Cole?” my dad asked.
I glared at him, my temper only flaring more at his audacity to lecture me on time. “Don't you fucking lecture me on time,” I snarled. He clenched his jaw. “You're five months and three weeks too late to be lecturing someone on fucking time. Why in the hell wasn't the club informed about Amelia being locked up?!” I roared.
My mom glared at my dad. Good—at least someone fucking agreed with me. “Travis, are you fucking kidding me?!” she yelled, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. “You kept this a secret from the club?! The club should have fucking known!”
