Alaric (Golden Glades Henchmen MC #8) Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors: Series: Golden Glades Henchmen MC Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
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But the pills took away my choice within an hour.

The next thing I was aware of was a body curling around mine, warm and familiar, but with a different scent clinging to him than I was used to.

Something sulfuric, but just a hint of it.

I knew that smell.

It’s what the air had smelled like at the clubhouse.

At the range.

When Alaric had been teaching me to shoot.

He’d shot a gun recently.

I didn’t have to give it much thought to know who he’d shot.

And knowing what I knew about his gun skills, I very much doubted the bald guy with the red and black ink was still living and breathing.

I expected to feel horrified by that thought.

Yet all I felt was a sort of deep comfort.

Alaric’s lips pressed a kiss to my neck as he snuggled in closer.

“Fucking love you, baby,” he whispered, clearly thinking I was asleep.

So I didn’t say it back.

Not yet.

But, God, I loved him right back.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Alaric

It all came together relatively quickly.

Once word got back to the club about the attack, about what Kylo had told me about the guys and their possible connections, Seeley was already out on the streets, hitting up contacts, running down leads.

Before we’d even left the hospital, he had names and addresses for me.

I knew there’d been three of them who’d gone after Kylo, who’d wrecked Siana’s place.

They all needed to pay.

But my big concern was about getting the bald guy, the one who dared to hurt Siana, who’d been willing to do infinitely worse than he’d already done to her.

He was going to suffer for the fear and pain he’d inflicted on her.

We’d gotten home, and I’d settled Siana in bed, curling into her for a moment, just saying a silent prayer of gratitude that she was okay, that she wasn’t hurt too badly, that she would be able to bounce back from this.

Then I’d slid out of bed, grabbed my phone, and started to make my calls.

To my sister, who would bring some of the others over, to sit with Siana for me.

Then to Huck, knowing I had to get permission to do what I was about to do.

“Just don’t fuck with the Greeks,” was all Huck said. “I don’t want smoke with them right now. But otherwise, do what you gotta do.”

Once the girls and Eddie showed up to do the caretaking, I brought Frida on a walk, wanting to try to calm her frazzled nerves, then made my way to the clubhouse.

“What are you doing?” I asked when I came back outside and found Coast standing near his bike that was conveniently parked next to mine.

“Coming to have some fun,” he said, flicking his cigarette, then stomping it out. “Gotta have back up,” he added, shrugging.

He wasn’t wrong.

Even if, technically, it wasn’t his place to tag along on jobs until he was patched.

Then again, this wasn’t actually club business, was it? This was personal.

“You got a gun?” I asked, watching him slide his cut to the side to reveal one in a shoulder holster. Then, for good measure, he reached to flick open a pocket knife. A karambit style one with the curved blade. The way he effortlessly twisted that thing around on his finger had me thinking that knives, not guns, were how he’d managed to rack up that body count he had inked into his skin.

“Alright. Let’s go,” I said, hopping on my bike, and heading in the direction Seeley sent me in.

“No wonder he’s willing to kill for half a mill,” Coast said, nose curling up at the sight of where the guy, Robbie, lived.

It was a rough area full of abandoned buildings and a large homeless population.

Robbie’s home was situated behind an apartment building. It was really barely more than a stucco shed with two windows covered in bars and a front door that was propped open with a milk crate.

“Doesn’t even have air,” Coast added, sounding horrified. “Gonna smell rank as fuck in there,” he added.

“You gonna talk through the whole murdering process?” I asked, glancing over at him.

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “We going in, or we just sitting here all day?”

Then, before I could even answer, the crazy fuck was just… walking up. Not even walking. Sauntering. The fucker was sauntering across the street, casual as can be, completely unconcerned about potentially getting seen or shot at.

“Christ,” I hissed, rushing to follow behind, ready to carefully look in the window, get a feel for who might, or might not, be inside.

While Coast just moved around the house, kicked the milk crate into the door, then strode in before it closed.

“Jesus,” I hissed to myself as I rushed to back him up.

“Knew it was gonna fucking stink in here,” Coast was saying as I ran in, finding him striding into the long, narrow building like the guys all sitting around a card table weren’t getting to their feet to rush him. “Ever hear of deodorant?” he asked. “Maybe some of those little pine tree air fresheners? You know, the ones you hang from a rearview mirror? Oh, don’t be getting all fucking stupid now,” he said, wiggling his gun at them.


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