Smoke and Steel (Wild West MC #2) Read Online Kristen Ashley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Chick Lit, Contemporary, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wild West MC Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
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He shoved the gadget into the port at the side of the keypad. The light on it showed red, then green.

“Hit it,” he said.

His earbuds were back in.

The Nerd got on it.

The keypad above the sensor lit up, then scrambled. It went dark with only the number one illuminated, another scramble, then number six, and this went on through numbers eight, nine, five, a repeat of five, and last, seven.

A click was heard.

“You’re in,” the voice said in his ear.

Core pulled down the latch, opened the door and triggered a light that came on inside.

That was when he saw the room wasn’t big, but the space had been fully utilized.

He walked in, the seven men behind him holding position outside the vault.

He was quick, but he was thorough as he made his selections of the inventory. He put what he chose in a black velvet jewelry bag he’d had stowed in his back pocket. He took enough from the piles of cash to cover what the club had agreed was theirs.

After that, Core walked out of the vault, stepping over the inert body on the floor, and muttered, “It’s yours.”

The men swarmed in.

Core jogged up the stairs and spoke to The Nerd, “Your turn.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, “It’s done,” and a disconnect.

That meant accounts were emptied, and tech was wiped, including computers and phones.

No more incriminating videos and pictures.

And the rest of their financial assets were gone.

Core took the earbuds out of his ears and sauntered out of the house.

Core was mildly disappointed when he hit the garage door opener on the approach to his house and didn’t see Hellen’s ridiculous car in the garage.

He’d texted her when he’d gotten in his truck at the airport, telling her he was home, and she’d said she’d meet him at his house.

She was probably tied up at work, where she’d been taking Nanook every day for the last three days to hang with her.

And if the pictures she texted of his happy boy curled in a dog bed in the corner of her office were any indication, Nanook liked to go to work.

Core drove in, parked and got out, going to the back of the cab to shoulder his duffel. He walked into the house, not bothering to close the garage since she’d be driving into it soon.

Monday morning, he’d given her a key, a garage door opener and his dog.

She’d given him a smile he’d never forget his entire life.

It might have been about the key.

Though he knew it was mostly about the dog.

He dropped the duffel in the laundry area, hit his kitchen and tossed his keys on the island.

He then halted and let what she’d done to his kitchen wash over him again.

She’d dragged him through Denver last Sunday, not attempting to hide her glee.

When she was done, he’d dragged in all the shit she bought (but he paid for), and unless she needed him to assist, he stretched out on the couch, smoking a joint and enjoying watching her unpack and place stuff in his house.

His kitchen now had a black blender, a black coffeemaker, a white crock that had all his utensils sticking out of it, a thick, wooden, countertop butcher block upended against the backsplash, a black olive oil bottle (filled), a black soap dispenser at his sink and a two-tier wire thing on the island.

It had been empty when he took off on Monday.

Now it had bananas in the top and fruit at the bottom, the bright colors of the fruit stark in the monochrome of the space.

He felt his lips quirk and turned to the living room.

He then stopped dead.

She’d bought some pillows for the furniture and a blanket she tossed over a chair. He’d set up the lamp that arched over the couch and the other one that had a tripod base she told him to put in the corner. She’d added the lamp on the table at one side of the couch. It looked like two black rods at right angles to each other (she said it was all about rugs and lighting, and when she’d switched on that rod light when it got dark, and it cast a soft glow on one side of the couch, he saw she wasn’t wrong).

Last, there was a gray rug that had black lines running through it, for which they had to move the furniture to roll it out over his bare hardwood floors.

She’d also bought some small frames you’d set out on tables. She said she had to think on what to do with them. And she’d added some pillows to his bed and two lamps for the nightstands in his bedroom.

But that had been the totality of her Sunday haul.

Now, however, the wall behind the couch was wallpapered in what looked like black crocodile, and mounted on it was a huge rectangular picture in a chrome frame. On it, there was a black skull on white positioned to the left. It looked like it was in motion or disintegrating because there were dots to the right that grew thicker the closer they got to the skull.


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