Up in Smoke Read Online T.M. Frazier (King #8)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Dark, Erotic, MC, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
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Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
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He howls in pain and I make a run for it, but I’m weak and slow. Within seconds, he’s on me, pinning me to the ground.

“I was gonna make this good for you,” he spits, his eyes bulging from his tiny head. “You stupid cunt!”

He punches me across my already injured jaw, and I see stars.

Wes covers my mouth with his hand, and I can’t hold it down any longer. I throw up against his palm but he keeps his hand pressed firmly over my mouth. My stomach keeps pushing everything upwards. I’m choking on my own bile; my eyes water. Everything’s blurry. I can’t breathe. I can’t see.

“Now.” He leans down, his putrid breath on my face. He holds a gun to my temple. He talks through his teeth, spraying his spit on my face. “I’m going to make you feel all the pain.”

I’m so dizzy. The room is spinning. The bloodied and rusted concrete finds its way in and out of my vision over and over again. Wes is tearing at my clothes. My shirt is open. Even with the gun to my head, I’m fighting and fighting him, but I don’t feel myself moving.

This is what it means to be all out of fight.

I thought I had seven more days.

I was wrong.

An explosion booms through the cell. It’s so loud it temporarily replaces all other sound. All I hear is a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Wes’s weight leaves my body, his gun drops from my head. He disappears into a mist of red and pink, falling lifeless against the iron bed frame. His mouth is open, and so are his eyes but he sees nothing.

Wes is dead.

I try to catch my breath but can’t get off the floor. I watch motionless as Wes’s blood seeps into the dingy yellowed mattress, staining it a deep red.

Smoke walks over to him, gun in hand. He crouches down and smirks.

“How’d that feel, motherfucker?”

Chapter Fourteen

Smoke’s shadow in the moonlight covers every inch of my body and blocking every bit of the light from the window. I heave again, but there’s nothing left in my stomach.

And nothing left of my hope.

There’s only so much one person can take, and I fear I’m nearing the point of no return.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “You…You killed him,” I whisper.

“He interfered,” Smoke answered. “No one interferes.” He lights a cigar and takes a puff, blowing smoke rings into the cell.

I spot Wes’s fallen gun. It’s within reach.

I have an idea. It’s a stupid and reckless one, but it’s all I’ve got.

Dr. Ida Tip: If you see an opportunity to escape, take it.

I pretend to heave again and stretch my fingers, connecting with the gun. My mouth is inches away from bits of Wes’s skull. My fingers brush over soft chunks of his brain, and if my stomach wasn’t already empty, I really would be heaving again. I can smell the copper in his blood and feel the heat escaping his freshly opened skull as it rises from his corpse.

My fingertips contact the gun. I wrap my hand around it and place my finger on the trigger. Smoke’s standing behind me, I can feel his eyes on my back. I sit up slowly onto my knees only to be met with the barrel of his gun on the back of my head.

“You going to kill me, hellion?” Smoke asks, sounding amused.

I’m glad my torment and agony is so entertaining for him. I don’t see how I can save anyone right now. Let alone myself. I feel all hope draining from my body, from my soul, like someone has pulled the bath plug.

I make a decision.

A vengeful spiteful stupid decision.

One I won’t be around to regret.

“No, I’m not going to kill you.” I say, shifting the gun into position. I turn around slowly so he can be rest assured it’s not pointed at him.

It’s in my mouth.

Chapter Fifteen

Impatient bitch.

This girl would rather kill herself then wait for someone else to do it.

I’m pretty sure the asshole with his brains scattered all around the cell is one of Griff’s men. He’s checking up on me and I won’t fucking tolerate that kind of bullshit. I told Griff I’d bring him Frankie in a week’s time I’ll make good on my word.

I’ll also bring him this motherfuckers head in a box.

But first I’ve got to deal with the issue at hand.

I think it’s safe to say that boredom isn’t a problem of mine. Not anymore.

Not where Frankie Helburn is concerned and not since I’ve seen her body back in the motel room.

And what a fucking body it is. Even scraped and cut up, maybe even because of it, I was rethinking my plans for her.

A week isn’t nearly long enough when I think of how much pleasure I could get from taking my revenge out on the body of Frank Helburn’s only daughter. I could hurt her. Her body. Her mind. I could destroy her and hand him back an empty fucking shell only capable of retelling the stories of what I’ve done to her over and over again. I could ruin that beautiful body of hers in every single way possible. Frank Helburn would get the message loud and motherfucking clear.


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