Get Tragic (Battle Crows MC #5) Read Online Lani Lynn Vale

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Funny, MC, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Battle Crows MC Series by Lani Lynn Vale
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Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
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“And your ribs?” I asked, suddenly nauseous at the thought of him hurting himself.

“Smarting, but they’re fine,” he said. “The seat belt is doing more damage at this point than moving those cows.”

That was a lie, but I’d allow him to have it.

I trusted him to tell me if he was seriously hurt.

Salem: my god. He has abs. So many abs. His abs have baby abs. And his ribs have abs. I didn’t know ribs could have abs. What’s that cut under his nipple? Looks like it’s fresh. The internet is going nuts wondering who he is. They’re trying to find out who you are, too. But only because they think you might lead them to him.

“My sister said your abs are now famous,” I murmured as I continued to watch the video. “When did you lift your shirt? You know what kills me? They had to have been filming this shit for a while. Like they knew this dumbass was about to fall, and possibly hurt himself. If I saw this happening, I wouldn’t film. I would run up to them and tell them that they were about to have a problem.”

“Agreed,” he said. “Had I known, I would’ve pulled my truck over. You know some of those truckers saw it, too. Had to. There’s no doubt they could’ve contacted you on the CB radio and informed you of what was happening.”

I grimaced. “Girls in this profession… some of the truckers think this is still a man’s game. It’s more than obvious I’m a girl based solely on the accents on my truck. They’d see telling me as ‘helping’ a girl. And some of them don’t want to help me because it’s breaking the boy code. But then, there are some truckers who don’t care what gender you are. You’re one of them, and they’ve got your back. It just depends on who ‘saw.’”

He grunted, sounding miffed. “Still. Those cows could’ve gotten hurt.”

“Agreed,” I said as I salivated a bit as I got to the part where he lifted his shirt up to check his abs. “You have a lot of bruising. I’m surprised nobody is commenting on that. And instead commenting about how magnificent your abs are.”

Luckily, during the time it took us to gather our rowdy escaped cows back up and latch that door tight, it meant that we were finally free and clear of the traffic that’d been in front of us.

Meaning, Easton was able to drive.

I watched as the muscles in his forearm played each time he shifted gears. I also watched as his pants bunched up around the tops of his thighs, making his package look bigger than ever.

I was having salacious thoughts when Easton broke the silence.

“Have you ever considered doing this full-time?” he asked.

“No, not really,” I admitted. “I enjoy it, but I don’t enjoy the long hauls. I like the short ones that get me there and back in a day, and allow me to sit on my ass for another four to five days before I take another one. Why?”

He shrugged. “I was just thinking, now that your dad is…”

“Firing me for my asshole sister?” I teased.

He shot me an amused look. “I’m sure he’ll wise up and ask for you back.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going back. Even if my dad and I mend fences over him choosing her over me, which’ll take a while, because Mirabel is a serious shithead.” I looked out the window and saw the state line of Texas passing us by. “I’m not going back to work there. The bar was never my choice. Always my obligation. And maybe it’s time for me to finally start doing what I want to do.”

“Amen to that,” he grumbled. “When I started this new business venture of mine, I thought it’d be horrible. Having to do it all on my own. Making all the decisions. Et cetera. But overall, other than a few really sucky things that I’m forced to do now, I love it. I love making my own decisions. Working with who I want to work with. Even better, I get to do what I want, when I want, and refuse the jobs that don’t look appealing to me.”

“What things do you have to do that you don’t want to do?” I questioned him.

“For instance, firing people. I’ve had to do that four times now. I just don’t like working with people that don’t have the same ideals as me.” He hesitated. “And I have to go to this stupid police ball. And you know who will be there, and it sounds horribly awful.”

Before I could rein it in, words just spilled out of my mouth.

“You can always take me. I’ll be your fake date,” I said, sounding as if it was the easiest solution in the world.


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