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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Grabbing my keys and my phone, I all but vaulted out of the truck and locked it before running across the parking lot.

I was in the bathroom in half a minute, and washing my hands a minute after that.

It was only as I was looking at myself in the mirror that I realized that I should’ve brought my toothpaste and overnight bag in here with me.

Now I’d have to walk all the way back out to the truck again, then back, to take care of it.

I contemplated not brushing my teeth for all of half a second before I decided that it really needed to be done.

Heading back out to the truck, I arrived to find a shadow at the side of my door.

My heart dropped into my toes as I came to a halt and smiled at the man that was blocking my way.

“Excuse me,” I said to him, wondering why he was standing so close to my door and not his own truck.

The man took a puff on his cigar and came a little bit out of the shadows, revealing a hard set of eyes that looked straight into my soul.

“You’re excused,” he drawled, winking at me.

I’d have to move my truck.

There was no other way around it.

Hell, I might as well move stations completely.

There was a smaller one a few exits back that…

“Aren’t you just a pretty thing,” he continued as if his first statement wasn’t creepy enough.

I clenched my teeth and reached for my phone in my front breast pocket as I started backing away.

Right into something hard.

My heart leaped as a familiar hand reached around my belly and pulled me into a taut body. That possessive hand on my belly made things dip and lurch inside of me.

“Easton,” I breathed. “What are you doing here?”

There was a press of his lips, and a tickle of his beard, against my neck before he said, “I wanted to see you. So I got Donnelly to drop me off,” he growled. “That shit earlier pissed me off, and I want to see what else she has up her sleeve.”

Which meant he expected Sareen to do more.

Not good.

The guy in front of me smoking his cigar took one look at Easton and moved to the other side of his truck, leaving me enough breathing room to turn in Easton’s arms and say, “You just saved the day.”

His eyes were soft as they peered down into my own.

“I don’t like you out here on your own doing this,” he grumbled darkly. “Pieces of shit like that know exactly what they’re doing to women when they pull those moves.”

I knew they did.

Usually I was a bit smarter about how I moved around in these situations.

I always, always had a loaded firearm on me when I moved. And in most situations, I would always be a little better equipped than I was today.

Sadly, I hadn’t been thinking about my protection when I got out of the truck. I’d been thinking about not wetting my pants.

Which I explained to him.

“I still don’t like it,” he grumbled again. “It’d be so fuckin’ easy.”

I felt a slither of fear skitter down my spine as I said, “What would be easy?”

He moved fast, all but pinning me to the side of my truck in the shadows, uncaring of his broken ribs and his healing knife wound as he did so.

“This,” he growled, pressing his mouth to mine and forcing me to take his tongue in the next instant.

I was probably supposed to be surprised by his actions. To be wary of the strength in him.

But I wasn’t.

I could only focus on how he made me feel.

How the way he used his superior strength against me turned me on.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” I whispered, unable to get my voice above the current octave.

He pressed in harder, his hand moving up the length of my waist, up, up, up until he finally reached his desired destination. My neck. His long, muscular fingers ringed the swatch of sensitive skin there before he squeezed. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention.

“I could say the same for yourself,” he countered my statement with one of his own. “At least I know I can stop before I actually do hurt myself. You think that creepy motherfucker the next truck over would’ve stopped? No. He would’ve kept going until you were nothing but a used-up little girl at the base of his feet.”

I shivered at his words.

Because, ultimately, he was right.

He might be going about it in an unusual way, but I needed to be smarter.

I might’ve had to pee, but I definitely didn’t plan ahead like I damn well should have.

That didn’t stop my temper from igniting, however.

“Listen,” I hissed, trying to push him off. “I got the point the first time. I understand I fucked up. You don’t have to keep pushing…”


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