Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Ford forget to tell you that you’re supposed to ask permission when you come into another club’s territory when you’re not allies?”
The fucker laughs. “You seem to be behind on the times, D.”
“It’s Dom,” I correct.
“Or Ice, right? I mean, the club thought enough of you to actually give you a club name. Too bad they didn’t bother with your brother.”
“Is there a point to this shit?” I growl.
“Just pointing out that in my eyes, you aren’t worth shit. You’re just an asshole who thought nothing of betraying his brother and didn’t bother looking out for him.”
King’s words burn in my stomach. Partly because some of it is true. I didn’t think about T not having a club name. In my defense, we all grew up together and his name was shortened to T. That’s just who everyone recognized him as. It’s much the same with me. Sure, they gave me the club name Ice. I got the nickname because Breaker used to say I had ice water running through my veins because I’d wait until the last minute to react, even when my life was on the line. I laughed and told him we called him Breaker because he was like a bull in a china shop and would break anything he came in contact with because he was so damn huge and bulky.
“You know jack-shit about anything to do with my brother.”
“Maybe you’re right. Although, I do know something you don’t.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Go ask your dear old dad why I’m in your neighborhood, kid. Better yet, ask him why he didn’t feel it necessary to tell you,” King taunts. Then, the bastard starts his bike and peels out. I’m left standing here knowing that my father is keeping shit from me—important shit.
I pull out my phone as I go to where I have my bike parked. Texting Thea, I let her know I’m fine with a promise I’ll see her at Breaker’s when she gets home. Then I call my asshole father and tell him I need to speak to him. I’ve had enough of this bullshit.
More than enough.
Chapter 30
Dom
“Didn’t you have shit to do for the club today, Dom? Weren’t you and Thea just telling me how you’re always there for the club and I was being unfair?” Dad snaps as soon as I walk into his office. I kick the door shut behind me. The echoing sound of it slamming closed surrounds me.
“Why the fuck wasn’t I told that King was in the territory?”
“He saved your brother. He can come here anytime he wants. You should be damn grateful to him, too—all things considered.”
“All things considered? What are you saying, Dad? Why do you think I should kiss King’s ass?”
“Dom, you’re walking a dangerous line,” Dad growls, but I just laugh.
“You think T getting shot was my fault. Just admit it, old man!”
“Damn it, son!”
“Admit it!” I scream.
“It’s rule number one! Club first! You put everything before your own brother! He worshipped you!” Dad yells back, and finally it’s all out in the open.
“I fucked up. I freely admit it. Gabby lied to me, and I let myself believe it because I didn’t want to confront T myself. He’d been through so much and I found it easier to believe what Gabby was telling me over telling him myself.”
“You took the coward’s way out. I taught you better than that. You owed your brother your loyalty, not some piece of ass.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I’ve beaten myself up over that since it all blew up? Jesus, I know Dad. Every day, I go without my brother at my side. I fucking know.”
“How am I supposed to trust you to take over this damn club, when you couldn’t even man-up with your own flesh and blood?”
“Gee, Dad, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just a chip off the old block.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Letting out a growl, I want to confront him over everything. I want to tell him what I know. I’m on the verge, but I stop myself. The past is best left dead and buried. I don’t know anything for certain. There’s no point in resurrecting the past.
“It doesn’t matter. Just tell me why King said I should ask you what he’s doing in Kentucky—not to mention our territory.”
Dad sits down in his chair with a sigh. I don’t need to be a fucking mind reader to know I will not like what he’s about to say. “For fuck’s sake, Dom, sit down.”
I sit down, still staring at him and refusing to back down.
“Ford discovered the traitors inside his organization, as well as the rival club, were being bankrolled by our biggest threat here in Kentucky.”
“The Kings?” I ask, knowing this is bad news. The Feral Kings MC is in Western Kentucky, with the main chapter in Bowling Green. They’re a garbage group full of assholes that make the rest of us look bad, having no rhyme or reason when it comes to killing. They don’t have a code. We may be a one percent club when necessary, but the Kings? They kill for sport. They get off on that shit.