and leaned down resting on his knuckles, his face just inches from hers. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to piss me off?”
“You can’t make me sign those,” she said nervously.
“What’s it gonna take to get you to sign them?”
“What do you mean?”
He blew out a breath, loosing patience. “How much?”
“You mean money?”
She’d never been the sharpest knife in the drawer. “Yeah. Money.”
She thought a moment.
Cole could see the wheels turning. He was sure she’d try to take him for all she thought she could get.
“Ten grand. And the house.”
“I don’t own the house, Mandy. It’s a rental. You’d know that, if you had half a brain.”
“You think I’m stupid? Well, I’m not stupid enough to sign those papers you want so bad!” she smirked back at him.
Cole smiled, and shook his head. Did she really think he’d walk in here without an ace up his sleeve? He pulled out a fat envelope, and tossed it on the table. He nodded to it. “Two grand. It’s yours if you sign right now.”
She looked at the envelope, debating.
Cole smiled. Who was she kidding? He knew she was desperate for money. And he knew why. He leaned down, and whispered in her face. “I found out your other dirty, little secret, wife. While I was in Arizona, and you were here, supposedly pregnant, you ran up quite a coke debt with Skeeter. A debt that totals over a grand, babe.”
“That’s…that’s a lie,” she denied weakly.
“Is it? What’s he gonna do to you when I’m not around to protect you from him?” He watched the fear wash over her face. “I’m not paying it off for you, Mandy. So, what are you gonna do?”
She looked down at the papers, and he saw the realization hit her that she had no choice.
He held the pen out to her.
She looked up at him, and slowly took it out of his hand, and signed.
Chapter Eighteen
Cole snapped his cell phone shut, and threw it across the room. It hit the wall, and fell on the floor. He lay on his bed, in his room at the clubhouse. He’d been staying here ever since he’d walked out on Mandy.
He stared up at the ceiling. Why wouldn’t Angel talk to him? He’d called her every day for six weeks, and she’d refused to come to the phone every time. Natalie kept telling him not to give up, but how much crawling was a man supposed to do? Six weeks ago, when he’d first called, he’d told Natalie that Mandy had signed the papers, and that they’d been filed. He told her that the pregnancy had all been a fake. And still, Angel wouldn’t talk to him.
Now, he had the final papers in hand, and still she wouldn’t talk to him. Crash had asked him how he’d managed to get the divorce finalized so quickly. Cole had smiled. Money talks, he’d told him. You just have to know the right people to pay off.
It was early September now. Cole supposed it was still damn near a hundred degrees in Arizona. He thought about making the drive out there. Seven hundred miles was a long way to ride, just to have a door slammed in your face. But he didn’t see any other way. She wouldn’t take his calls. He was going to have to go out there, and talk to her face-to-face.
Hell, he’d tried everything else. He’d sent her flowers. They’d been refused. He’d written her letters. She’d returned them, unopened. He now had them hidden away in a box in the bottom drawer of his desk. Him? Writing a Goddamn love letter. The guys would die laughing if they knew.
He sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees, trying to get a plan together in his head. He had some stuff he needed to do for Mack, but he could probably leave next week. He felt better already. At least he had a plan of action. It was better than sitting around here hoping, day after day, that she’d take his call.
He got up, and walked out of his room, and went downstairs.
Crash and Cajun were sitting at the bar.
He joined them. “What’s up, guys?”
Crash looked over at him. “Just thinking about makin’ a run down to Lucky’s.”
Cajun smiled at him. “Wet T-shirt night, tonight.”
Cole grinned back at him. “Ain’t you a little old for those college girls, Cajun?”
“Hey, dey better lookin’ than those girls down at da strip club. Guaranteed.”