Holding On (Ruthless Sinners MC #2) Read Online L. Wilder

Categories Genre: Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Ruthless Sinners MC Series by L. Wilder
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
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Ada scurried off to the back of the house, and Remington never said a word. A solemn look crossed her face as she used her fingers to brush her hair out of her eyes. I knew this whole thing was tough on her, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. “I’ve gotta help the brothers. You gonna be okay here for a little while?”

“Of course, she is,” Ada May answered for her. “Now, you go on and do what ya gots to do. She’ll be just fine.”

Ada pushed past me as she sat down on the coffee table in front of Remington and opened up a tiny bottle of lavender oil. Sensing my hesitation, Remington glanced up at me and smiled. “I’ll be fine. Go help your brothers.”

I nodded, then rushed outside. By the time I made it to our storage unit, Menace, Widow, and Country had finished at the strip club and were there with Hawk. They’d just unlocked the storage unit’s door, and Menace was logging in the code to open the hidden subfloor. The unit looked like all the others. It even had what appeared to be a regular concrete floor, but with one click of a button, the locks would disengage and reveal a set of stairs that led to an underground shelter. Once Menace opened the door, we all got busy unloading the SUVs. I was reaching for one of the duffle bags when I heard Widow grumble, “This is some bullshit.”

“You ain’t lying,” Country replied as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “What’s with the fucking heat today? Damn. It’s hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock out here.”

Hawk chuckled as he asked, “What’s wrong, Country? You afraid you might break a sweat?”

“Break a sweat? Hell, I got swamp ass for days,” Country complained. “My taint is screaming for some corn starch.”

“I hear ya, brother.” Rafe shook his head. “My ass is—”

“Yeah, yeah. We get it. It’s fucking hot,” Axel snapped before Rafe could finish his thought. “Just move your chafed ass already, so we can get out of this goddamn heat and back to the clubhouse.”

Clearly unfazed by Axel’s scolding, Rafe grabbed a couple of duffle bags from the truck, and as soon as he started down the stairs, he chuckled and said, “Chafed ass. Swamp ass. Grumpy ass. Yeah, we got ’em here today, fellas.”

“Shut it, smartass.”

Laughter broke out as Axel grumbled cursed under his breath and grabbed another duffle bag. As we continued our descent down the steps, I could feel the cool, damp air on my skin, giving me a small reprieve from the scorching heat. Once downstairs, everyone started placing the bags on the shelves that lined the concrete room. It looked like a tornado shelter more than an actual safe, but it did the job. With the contents from the SUVs unloaded, we all trudged back upstairs, and Menace quickly locked everything up. When the brothers started to disperse, Axel walked over to me and said, “Viper wants you to stay here with the girl.”

“I need to be at the clubhouse in case something goes wrong.”

“You need to be where Viper tells you to be.” Axel’s eyebrow lifted when he added, “You made the decision to bring the girl to the clubhouse, so you deal with her.”

As much as I wanted to, I knew better than to argue. Trying my best to swallow my irritation, I gave him a nod and watched silently as my brothers loaded up into SUVs without me. After they were gone, I glanced back over at Ada’s trailer, and that’s when it hit me. I’d rather be at the clubhouse with the fucking cops than in that trailer with Remington. I just didn’t know why—or at least, I didn’t want to admit that I did. Either way, I was fucked.

Remington

“I’m guessing you can’t tell me who done dis to ya.” Ada hadn’t stopped talking since the minute Shotgun walked out that door. There were times I couldn’t even tell if she was talking to me or just to herself, but she was extremely sweet nonetheless. Her soft wrinkled fingers gently swept over my face as she applied lavender oil on my bruises. I had no idea if it would actually help, but it felt wonderful. There was a little bite to her tone as she grumbled, “You gotta be a sorry kind of fellar to put ya hands on a woman. People ain’t got no home raising no more. Got no respect for others or demselves. Ooo-wee. I sure could teach dem boys a thing or two.”

“I’m sure you could, Ms. Ada.”

“I tell ya what’s wrong wit’ da world today,” she pursed her lips. “Folks quit whooping der chil’ren. All dis time-out nonsense. Hmph. Should’ve gotten a switch after ’em and den we wouldn’t have so many disrespectful chil’ren.”


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