Jen Frederick – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Fri, 02 Sep 2022 22:14:29 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Jen Frederick – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Last Breath – Hitman Read Online Jen Frederick http://www.books2020.com/last-breath-hitman-read-online-jen-frederick Fri, 02 Sep 2022 22:09:37 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/last-breath-hitman-read-online-jen-frederick Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Mafia, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
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Last Breath - Hitman

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Jen Frederick
Language:
English
Book Information:

Regan
I never really knew what misery was until the day I was kidnapped and sold for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Two months later, I'm at a brothel in Rio when I meet Daniel Hays. He says he's here to save me, but can I trust him? All I know of him are his sarcastic retorts and his tendency to solve every dispute with his gun. He's also the only safe thing in my world, and I know it's wrong to fall in love with him, but I can't seem to help myself. He says he’ll protect me until his last breath but I don’t know if I should believe him or even if I can.

Daniel
For the last eighteen months, I’ve had one goal: to find my kidnapped sister. I’ve left the Army, turned paid hit man, and have befriended criminals all across the globe. In every brothel I raid or every human trafficking truck I stop, her face is the one I’m desperate to see. In Rio, I find Regan Porter, bruised but not broken and still sane despite her weeks in hell. I should leave her behind or send her home because the last thing either of us needs is to get involved. But with every passing minute, I find I can’t let her go.
Books by Author:

Jen Frederick


CHAPTER ONE

REGAN

The man above me pushes into me with a grunt, his weight heavy on my back. I stare at the wall and think of zombies and play a mental alphabet game. I’m a horror movie aficionado, but I can’t recall if there are any zombie movies that begin with the letter A. Attack of the Living Dead, maybe? It’s a probable title, but I might be making it up.

The man fucking me squeezes my ass and bites out something in a foreign language. Portuguese, maybe. I ignore him and mentally continue sorting through my list of zombie movies. There’s Dawn of the Dead, of course. Night of the Living Dead. Shaun of the Dead. Land of the Dead. But I can’t think of a single movie that begins with A. Arrival of the Dead? Anarchy of the Dead? Surely someone’s had a movie called Arrival of the Dead, haven’t they? Pretty sure there’s a Return of the Living Dead out there, so if they’re returning, they have to arrive at some point. Right?

Someone should really get on to the whole A title thing. I shift my hands on the floor, thinking. Okay, now I can’t think of anything with the letter B, either. Jeez. I suck at this game.

The customer squeezes my hips painfully, drawing my attention back to him. “Cadela,” he snarls out, smacking my skin hard enough to sting as he drives into me again. He’s deliberately trying to hurt me, but in the last few weeks, I’ve become amazingly good at tuning men out.

At least from this angle. When they shove their rubber-covered dicks into my mouth, it’s harder to push the world out and keep my mental narrative running. That’s usually why I bite. Most have learned not to stick their dick in the American girl’s mouth because she’s a biter, but occasionally, I have to remind them.

The man shoots an angry stream of words at the back of my head and pulls on my hair, but I still ignore him because I know it will piss him off. The men that buy my time want a girl that struggles. One that weeps and cries. Pussy is a dime a dozen in Rio, or so I am told by the brothel madam, but fucking a captive American girl that will fight you and weep? That is something special, and they pay extra for that.

And because they do pay extra, I do my best to ignore them, even when they’re hurting me.

He saws into me, slamming his body into mine so roughly I tumble to the thin, dirty mattress that has been my home for the last few weeks—ever since I went to sleep in Russia and woke up here in Rio, nursing a hangover from shitty roofies. Now my owners speak Portuguese instead of Russian, but they still chain my ankle to the wall so I can’t escape.

Some things don’t change.

Grimly, I press my cheek to the mattress and let him pound into me, ignoring the hand tangled in my hair that pulls a little too hard. He wants me to cry and weep and beg for mercy, so I won’t give him the satisfaction. I go back to my mental game instead. Where was I? B? Oh wait, Bride of Re-Animator. That’s a B movie for sure. I move on to C. C is an easy one. Children of the Living Dead. D is easy, too—

The man pulls out of me and drags me up by my hair, shouting at me now. He wants my attention, and I’m not giving it to him. When he pulls me up to his face, screaming, I give him a thin, pained smile and shoot him the bird. Fuck you, I think. You’re not getting tears from me.

I cried a lot in the beginning. I never understood what was happening, really. What I had done to somehow get kidnapped and sold like I was nothing.

All I knew was that I’d driven my roommate Daisy to work one afternoon and I’d settled down to study. I’d borrowed her phone because mine was lost, and I had it on me. Daisy was supposed to call me when she was ready to leave work.

An hour after I dropped her off, two men had showed up at the door. Two tall, frightening strangers in suits with cold eyes. One was blond and enormous, and the other one was slim and ugly. They both had thick Eastern European accents, and I immediately regretted opening the apartment door. By then, it was too late. They’d forced themselves into the apartment, bound and gagged me, and then dragged me into their car. Thirty minutes later, we went to the gas station where Daisy worked and they grabbed her, too.

Later, I was told that Daisy’s boyfriend was mixed up with the wrong people, and that was why she had been taken.


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Want You Read Online Jen Frederick http://www.books2020.com/want-you-read-online-jen-frederick Thu, 01 Jun 2017 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/want-you-read-online-jen-frederick Categories Genre: Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Want You

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Jen Frederick
Language:
English
Book Information:

Bitsy: I might be only nineteen, but I know what I want. It’s Leka Moore. I don’t care that he took me in when he was barely more than a kid himself. I don’t care that he raised me. I don’t care everyone thinks being with him is wrong. I know we belong together, and the only person I need to convince is him.

Leka: I found her in the corner of a dark alley. If I hadn’t taken her with me, she would’ve died that night—or maybe worse. Before I knew it, she became the light in my dark life, the haven from the madness. I watched her grow up. I tried to teach her right from wrong. Now that she’s an adult, I’m feeling things that no good man should ever feel. But then…I’ve never been a good man. I have a chance at redemption by saving her from the greatest danger of all—me.
Books by Author:

Jen Frederick Books


Part I

1

Leka

Scritch.

Scratch.

A rat, I think. I glance to my left to make sure. My job depends on silence and swiftness.

Instead of a small animal, I see a small human crouched in the corner, just beyond the doorway of a crumbling brick apartment building I’m using as cover. Behind her, a big wooden fence blocking off the end of the alley looms upward. Her big eyes glisten with fear.

She draws her feet closer to her, making that scratching noise. Her dirty, threadbare tennis shoes are rubbing gravel against pavement.

We both hold our breath and stare at each for a long moment. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I finger the blade in my sock. Could I? I run my thumb around the hilt, imagine lifting it to the girl’s chest. My hand falls away.

No.

I don’t have the balls to do it.

Instead, I press a finger to my mouth. Shhhh, I warn silently.

I need her to be quiet. She covers her mouth with a grimy hand and nods. It’s risky to trust her. She could ruin this for me unintentionally. Or she could scream and out me on purpose. I give her one last hard look before peering around the corner again.

Officer Dumbfuck has his back to me. He’s feeling up a prostie. From my position, I can’t tell if she’s willing or just suffering through it. Most of the beat cops that work this section of the city dip their dicks in the community wells without paying. They tell the girls that payment is not getting dragged down to booking.

I feel sorry for the working girls. They get it from both ends—the pimps and the cops. And if the pimps find out that their stable is giving it away for free to the boys in blue, there’s hell to pay. For those on the street, the whores have it the worst.

Nah. Strike that. Rent boys are somewhere below the girls. It’s the worst sort of contest. With Stinky Steve’s gang, you either serve a purpose on your feet or on your back and the only way out is a bullet in the head. I flip the silver disc between my fingers. Good thing I’ve got some skills, or my callouses would be on my knees, not my hands.

A clink of metal against metal provides me the signal. It’s go time. Officer DF loosens his duty belt and pushes down his pants. They sag under his white, hairy ass. His fat fingers fumble with the hem of the girl’s skirt. I dart forward, clinging to the shadows. He’s inside of her when I reach him. Or, at least, he’s busy thrusting into something and doesn’t notice the loss of the police radio from his belt.

The prostie doesn’t notice either. Her eyes are closed. Probably focusing on something pretty to get her through this bad fuck.

Because I practiced, it takes me less than thirty seconds to bust open the radio, insert the bug and then return the radio to its holster. Another thirty seconds has me back into my hiding place behind a dumpster. Good thing, too, because Officer DF is a three-pump chump. His loud groan of satisfaction fills the alleyway.

I check on the girl, whose face is filled with confusion. She mouths something to me. I can’t read her lips, so I back up until my body brushes hers. I dip my head low and point to my ear.

She bends forward, whispering so lightly that I can’t even feel her breath on my skin. “Is man hurt?”

I shake my head no. She slumps backward, her small brow bunched together.

There’s the sound of a hand slapping flesh. I poke my head out to see that it’s just him tapping the whore’s ass and not her face.

“Dammit, Patty, you made me come too fast,” he complains as he hauls his pants upright. “Next time you’re gonna be on your knees, sucking me good. You hear me?”

Patty replies, but her voice is too quiet for me to make out the words. It must be a yes, or something close to it, because Officer DF slaps her ass again before zipping up.

“Good girl. Now, we’re going to have a probie working next week. Don’t come on to him until I give you the okay. Got it?”

This time she nods.

“We don’t know if he’s into this or not. If he’s not, he’s probably a fucking twinkie, but your guy sells boys, too, right?”

Patty shrugs. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I work for myself,” she says.

Officer DF pinches her chin. “You lie to me and it won’t be good for you.”

Patty twists her head out of his grip—which I think is a bad idea. She’s thin and small. A bundle of toothpicks held together by stretchy fabric. The cop agrees. He punches her in the gut. She folds in half, her cry of pain filling the alleyway. My fist clenches at my side, and my gut churns at my own helplessness, but I’m no hero. If I go out and help Patty, I’m gonna get nailed.


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