Bombshell (Judgement #1) Read Online Abbi Glines

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Dark, MC Tags Authors: Series: Judgement Series by Abbi Glines

Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)

Momma always told me that my sins would find me. I just didn’t think it would happen in a biker bar with my first crush bursting through the doors with his gun pointed at me. Well, not technically at me, but at my boyfriend- also known as my current sin. He was the thing I hoped the good Lord didn’t tell momma about in one of her dreams. Guess it didn’t matter anyway. I was caught and in a bigger mess than I could have imagined.

Micah Abe hadn’t laid eyes on Dolly Dixon, his younger sister’s best friend, in years, but her eyes were the kind you didn’t forget. Even if she’d grown into a woman with a body made for sin, he had recognized that unique shade of amber the moment she had locked her gaze on him. Damn shame he wouldn’t get a taste of her. His sister would cut off his favorite body part if he even considered it. Besides, he was over clingy women, and the way Dolly was holding on to his enemy like she wanted to wrap her legs around him meant she was the needy type.

Problem was he had to save her from herself. Clearly, Dolly was still clueless about life. That much hadn’t changed about her. He’d come here to get back what had been taken from him five years ago, but it looked like he’d be saving Snow White in the process.

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Dolly Belle Dixon

Twelve Years Ago

It had been two days, and Momma hadn’t come out of her bedroom. Once the church folks and neighbors stopped coming by with casseroles, cakes, pies, and their condolences, she’d shut herself off in her room. The only sound I heard from her was the crying. Her door was locked, and I couldn’t get her to answer me when I knocked.

I sat outside her room in the hallway. My arms wrapped around my knees as I rocked back and forth. “One hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-two.” I whispered the number over and over again, trying to block out the sounds of her sobbing.

My own eyes burned with unshed tears, and I feared the lump in my throat had become permanent. It had been there since the moment I’d found Daddy. It had thickened as I made the way from the garage, where he hung—his neck bent at an odd angle, face blue, and body limp—to find my mother in the kitchen.

“One hundred twenty-two,” I said louder this time through clenched teeth, trying to keep from remembering.

Nothing truly helped though. That day had been burned into my brain. I couldn’t get it out. Not the way Daddy looked or how Momma had run past me to the awful scene in the place where our car should have been parked. The horrific sound that had torn from her chest when she saw him in there. Hanging from the ceiling. The green rope—the one he used to tie the Christmas tree to the roof of the car every year—around his neck.

The smell of his favorite meatloaf in the oven would always haunt me. Momma had been making Daddy’s birthday meal. We were gonna celebrate it after church. She’d even invited the reverend and his family to join us. I had been looking forward to the buttercream cake she’d made fresh, sitting on the cake plate.

I never wanted to see buttercream cake again. I didn’t want to smell it. I hated the idea of meatloaf.

“One hundred twenty-two.” My voice cracked this time, and I closed my eyes tightly.

Momma’s crying turned into wailing. She hadn’t eaten since the funeral. I looked down at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had made her yesterday, still sitting outside her door. The bowl of peaches and cream oatmeal I had brought her earlier today was cold now and looked unappealing. The fridge was full of casseroles and pies, but the idea of eating any of that made my stomach turn. That was sad food. It meant my daddy was gone. That he was buried deep underground. That I would never hear his deep laugh, that he would never call me Twinkle Toes again.

“One hundred twenty-two. One hundred twenty-two. One hundred twenty-two.”

Momma needed to eat. I should call someone, but who would I call? No one had called the house. I wasn’t sure who could help me get Momma out of her room. I wished Daddy were here. When he had been alive, he’d handled all our problems.

“One hundred twenty-two. One hundred twenty-two. One hundred twenty-two.”



The band was playing our song—or the song I had decided was ours since it had been playing the first time we kissed. Canyon pulled me tighter to him, and I closed my eyes and relished the moment.

Once upon a time, I hadn’t imagined a man like him would ever notice me. In fact, I was sure I was going to die alone with an apartment full of cats as my only companions. Not that I even owned a cat, but I had seen it looming in my future once.

Thankfully, time had been good to me—or like Momma said, I had been a late bloomer. A really late bloomer, if you asked me. Canyon had been my first kiss, which was sweet and all, but I was also twenty-one years old. It touched on embarrassing. What girl was twenty-one when she got her first kiss? It was just pathetic.

I wouldn’t think about that right now or perhaps ever again. I was on the arm of a handsome man who smelled of cologne and leather—maybe a slight stench of cigarette smoke, but I could overlook that. He overlooked my complete lack of experience with all things sexual. But I knew tonight was the night. We were going to finally have sex. It was about time too. The only thing worse than dying alone with an apartment full of cats was to die alone as a virgin with an apartment full of cats. That had to be remedied.

I’d been waiting patiently because Canyon had said he wanted me to be sure. My comfort was important to him, and that was the sweetest thing I had ever heard. However, today, when he’d picked me up, he had said something about taking me back to his place, and I had known then that this was it! I would no longer be a twenty-one-year-old virgin.