Kestrel (Danger Bluff #3) Read Online Pepper North

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Danger Bluff Series by Pepper North

Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)

A mysterious billionaire saved my life.
Now, I owe him.
My team’s Save Zara from lurking threats.
My Convince her she’s mine.

I’ve tried to avoid attention all my life.
But there’s bad guys everywhere.
Danger Bluff should be a safe place to hide...
If only that devastating pilot didn’t ooze Daddy vibes.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************


“Do you know what we do to murderers in here, cabrón? This ain’t the Holiday Inn.”

Kestrel took a step deeper into his cell but kept his shoulders back and his chin high. Bastard wasn’t the worst thing he’d been called since his capture. The physical abuse was what he needed his energy to endure. He probably wouldn’t survive prison in Mexico, but he sure as hell would go down fighting.

He’d been here less than two hours, and frankly, he was surprised it had taken that long for the prison gang to show up, crowding the entrance to his cell. The largest of the men, and clearly the leader, had at least fifty pounds on Kestrel. Most of it wasn’t muscle, but that wouldn’t matter in a fight.

Kestrel said nothing in response. He had no defense. These men were not ill-informed. Kestrel had indeed killed three men, but he’d done it for a good reason, and he would do it again in a heartbeat. No matter what happened to him, at least he knew his best friend, Stephan, and Stephan’s Little, Teresa, were now safely back in the U.S.

These gang members might not tolerate murderers, but they could go fuck themselves. Kestrel didn’t tolerate human trafficking, especially when it involved his best friend’s girl.

Three imposing men entered the cell, fists flexing, eyes narrowed.

Kestrel had expected to meet with resistance. Hell, he’d presumed he’d be dead before the end of the month, but he hadn’t thought his blood would be spilled in less than an afternoon.

“Out!” shouted someone behind the gang members. “All of you. Out now.”

Kestrel had never been more relieved to have taken four years of high school Spanish.

The leader growled as he turned to face the newcomer. “We’re just introducing ourselves to the new boy, guard.”

“Well, you can go find something else to do. He’s been transferred.”

Kestrel’s heart raced at this news. Transferred? Where? Why?

The men scowled at Kestrel before they slowly left his cell.

“Let’s go, Galison. You’ve been moved.” The guard looked bored as he stood at the entrance to the cell, waiting impatiently.

Kestrel took a deep breath and a step forward. He didn’t need to look around. He didn’t have any belongings. He hadn’t even lowered himself to sitting on his bed yet.

He had no idea what this transfer was all about. No one had mentioned it to him, especially not the shitty lawyer who’d “defended” him.

“Where am I going?” he asked the guard as he followed the man, retracing his steps to the entrance.

“Fuck if I know, asshole. I’m just doing my job.” The guard didn’t look at him. “Hell, probably.”

Of that, Kestrel had no doubt. He was already there. Wherever he was going next couldn’t be worse, considering he’d been about five minutes from death before this guard had shown up.

Fifteen minutes later, Kestrel was in shackles for the second time that day and stuffed in the back of a truck. He was also alone. Fear climbed up his spine as the driver and another prison guard of some sort pulled away from the curb.

Sweat ran down his back. It was fucking hotter than hell, and there was no AC in the back of this vehicle. No ventilation either. If they went very far, he might die before they arrived, which could be a blessing.

He figured about fifteen minutes had passed when the truck suddenly veered off the road so hard that Kestrel was thrown to the floor. Thank God his hands were cuffed in front to break his fall, or he might have hit his head.

Gunfire erupted seconds later.

“What the f—” the driver shouted before he slumped over the steering wheel.

Kestrel’s eyes widened in fear. The man in the passenger seat had also slumped against the door. Dead. Both of them.

“Jesus, fuck,” Kestrel murmured. Whoever had ambushed them had probably done so to either kidnap or murder Kestrel. Probably both. He’d killed three human traffickers, after all. The man in charge of that crime ring probably wanted revenge.

When the back door swung open, Kestrel braced himself for death for the second time in an hour.

Four men stood outside the back of the truck. Three of them were guarding the fourth, facing the surrounding area, weapons lifted.

“Kestrel Galison?” the fourth man asked.

Kestrel swallowed. It wasn’t as if he could get away with lying. This guy knew exactly who he was. And then an important detail filtered into his mind. The man was Caucasian. He spoke perfect English. And the camouflage he wore wasn’t anything Kestrel had seen in Mexico.

Kestrel cleared his throat. For the first time in weeks, he had some hope. “That’s me.”

“Let’s go. Hurry.” He waved Kestrel out of the back of the truck as he turned toward one of the other men. “Spidey, grab the keys for these shackles from the guard.”

One of the men nodded and jogged toward the front of the truck while Kestrel slid to the end of the vehicle and hopped awkwardly to the ground. A glance around told him they were in the middle of nowhere. The only thing he could see besides dirt in any direction was the van these men must have used to run the prison guards off the road.