Coal (Regulators MC 3)

Prologue

~Coal~

The pounding in my head continues to assault my ears. Chad’s party last night was epic, and my head is making sure to remind me of the good time I had.

Bang.

Bang.

Thump.

Thump. Bang. Thump. Bang.

The rhythm is now unsteady.

“Trevor, wake your ass up right the fuck now!” my dad yells in his Army Ranger voice that has me immediately up and at attention by my bed.

Shit, why is my dad yelling? This tone is reserved for the major fuck-ups.

Making my way toward the door, I don’t even bother to put on clothes. I exit in my boxers and am immediately met with the brick wall that is my dad.

We are about the same height and of similar build. Only, my dad has seen war, has the scars, and quite honestly, he scares the shit out of me.

“Turn around and put some clothes on. Then you get downstairs and face the shitstorm you’ve caused. Two minutes, or I’ll drag you down and let them see you in your naked glory. I don’t give a damn.”

He gives me a slight shove back into my room while my vision blurs and the chalky taste in my mouth makes me wish I had time to grab a glass of water. His instructions were clear and precise. I won’t press my luck with the Ranger.

Quickly tossing on my sweats and a T-shirt, I then rush downstairs. There is no way I’m going to be any longer than necessary, not with the mood he is in this morning. No, sir.

Halfway down the stairs, I stop in my tracks. The sight in front of me is like a punch to my hangover. I already want to puke my guts out.

My girlfriend Amber stands at the bottom of the staircase with tears in her eyes and her parents flanking her. The girl I have spent every spare moment with for the last few months doesn’t look like the lively, beautiful young woman I’m used to seeing. No, she looks a mess, hurt, broken, and … Could it possibly be she’s ashamed?

Her mother’s eyes are swollen from crying, and her father … his face is murderous.

What the hell is going on?

I shake my head, trying to sort out why they are here. Why my girlfriend looks like the world has crumbled at her feet. More so, why she’s brought this to my doorstep.

“Trevor,” my father barks harshly, making me jump while I complete my descent and hit the bottom step. “Ass. Couch. Now,” he commands before looking at Amber’s family. “Mr. and Mrs. Bridges, Amber, please head into the living room so we can address this matter.”

Matter? What could be wrong? I haven’t seen Amber in three days. She said she had the flu.

I sit while my mind races. We have been dating for six months. Three weeks ago, she finally gave it up at a party at her best friend, Kiki’s, house. Nothing has seemed out of the ordinary. We haven’t had much time together. I know I was drunk, she was drunk, so it wasn’t some romantic thing. In fact, once I got inside her tight pussy, I had to fight not to blow my load with the first thrust. I didn’t last long, but I told her next time would be better. I tried to make it good. I even held her afterward, knowing it was her first time.

“Trevor,” my mom says gently, and I look up into her dark eyes and see pain. “Amber’s family tells us that something occurred a couple of weeks ago,” she starts, only to be interrupted.

“You fucking piece of shit got my daughter drunk and raped her!” Mr. Bridges roars, lunging at me, but my dad, who easily towers a good six inches over the man, holds him back.

My mother rushes to my side, her long, black hair hitting me in the arm. She’s Native American, and I get my dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin from her. My height of six-feet-seven comes from my beast of a father.

“We need to discuss this,” my mother says to the Bridges.

“Nothing to discuss,” Mrs. Bridges replies. “Graduation is in two weeks; we want to see Trevor gone. Amber will have enough of a reminder for the next nine months of what’s happened to her. After the kids graduate, Trevor gets out of town for school or the military, or we go to the police and press charges.”

“Press charges?” I scream, running my hands through my hair as sharp pain assaults my head. “For what?”

“Rape!” Mr. Bridges yells back.

Tears hit me. I’m seventeen years old. One night at a party where I swear she said yes leaves me in this kind of mess.

“I didn’t,” I gasp, trying to get out the words. Then I make the mistake of looking into Amber’s eyes. The fear, the pain, the sadness, and the desolation are all written on her features as she shakes her head at me. “I didn’t do that.” I can’t even say the word.