Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“So what the fuck?” Chain raises his eyebrows. He and Bulldog are sitting opposite me at the table, and they’ve said our club lawyer is on his way.
“I don’t know, man. The cops reckon they have a witness that saw me tampering with the wiring. That and the fact I was there at the time are apparently enough to bring me in.”
“That’s bullshit. Who is this witness? We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
I shrug. “It’s not like they tell you that sort of thing. But I have an idea. Pastor Junior.”
“Pastor who?”
“Junior. I don’t know, man, William something. He works with Kristina’s father at the church and the religious college.”
Chain shrugs. “Why does he have it in for you? And enough to burn down the church? Guy must be a psycho.”
“Don’t fucking touch him. He’s mine. I mean it, Chain, nobody lays a finger on any of them. I’ve got some info coming in from some of the girls that used to work for us before we cut ties with that end of the business. I’ve got this, I’m not turning shit into the fucking Sheriff though. I’m going to take care of this my own way first. Then let our attorney deal with the rest.”
Chain and Bulldog nod in unison, and Bulldog sets his jaw. “Don’t sweat it, dude, I’ve got your back. Anyone touches your girl or her family, I’ll tear them a new one.”
I nod as the guard comes over. Even in here, Heartlands members are usually given a modicum of respect, and so far the guards I’ve met have been decent enough. But I know that if this turns into a full sentence, I’ll have to keep up my end of the bargain for that to continue.
That thought makes me shudder.
It’s not that I can’t do the time. Fuck, I’m no pushover. If I have to, I’ll survive in here same as I have before. But now, there’s more at stake, because of her. The thought of losing Kristina is more than I can take. If I can’t go back to her, I think I might just end it.
“Mr. Phillips.”
“Yeah, what is it?”
“Just had word, your lawyer has arrived and you’re being called for a video arraignment in fifteen.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I meet Chain’s eyes and he nods. “We’ve got your back, Wrath.”
THREE HOURS LATER, we’re all at the Ride or Die bar, and there’s a beer in my hand, but I haven’t touched a drop of it. Instead, I’m just staring out the window, watching her place. It’s quiet, and I’m pretty sure nobody’s home, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep my eyes on the place while she’s gone.
The arraignment went well, and ironically my previous convictions kind of helped. My lawyer was able to show a pattern of Wrath doesn’t give a fuck and prove I wasn’t a flight risk. I’ve never run from anything in my life, and that made for a pretty convincing argument.
The judge was convinced, anyway, and that’s all that really matters. Despite the prosecution’s complaints, he agreed to bail. Chain posted it, I walked, and we went back to my place to get my bike.
That’s when I lost it.
It was the last place I saw her, wrapped in nothing but my bed sheet, and the knowledge that she wasn’t there anymore hit me hard. I started tearing into my own things, toppling my kitchen table and throwing anything I could lay my hands on: saucepans, mugs, cutlery. I went into the bedroom, and seeing my own clothes strewn across the floor, with hers missing, broke me.
Chain and Bulldog had to drag me out of there, kicking and screaming, then Bulldog went back inside while Chain held me down and before I knew it we were all on the road again, heading over here. I’ve got a bag with essentials, I’ve got my vest with my patches, and apparently I’m going to be sleeping at the bar for the next few days.
Probably for the best.
Except being so close to where she sleeps, and not being there next to her, is killing me.
“Wrath, man, drink your beer. Numb the pain.” Saint taps the table in front of me. “Trust me, dude, it’ll be better that way.”
I grunt, pushing my chair back. “Taking a piss.”
Turning, I ignore them all as I stomp out to the back of the bar where the toilets are located near the half-blocked fire escape. I don’t even need to take a leak, I just need to clear my head away from everyone else. Crates are piled high by the metal door, no doubt filled with contraband of some sort, and somehow it makes me think of her. Kristina is my contraband. It shouldn’t work between us, it shouldn’t be allowed. I’m way too bad and she’s way too good. But somehow I’m addicted, and the idea of walking the straight and narrow path without her just doesn’t sit with me.