Slapdash (D & L Bounty Hunters Mysteries #3) Read Online Stella Marie Alden

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: D & L Bounty Hunters Mysteries Series by Stella Marie Alden
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Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
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For the record, ladies, if your ex-boyfriend asks you to pilot a plane to Mexico, no questions asked, the answer should be a resounding no.
Even if he holds your cat hostage, think twice before you drive your motorcycle to his biker club because chances are, he’ll hold a pistol to your head. At this point, you’ll have no choice but to do as told. Then, you could be arrested across the border and have to steal a plane to return home.
More careless behavior could get the attention of a Russian who threatens to blow up Time Square unless you steal a tidy sum in a hard wallet for him.
Worst of all, you fiancé might call you a danger magnet because it’s bloody well true.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

Chapter 1

Dash

Eye level with London’s British Telecom tower, I turn from the amazing view, and shake my head at the woman checking out my arse.

“Sorry luv, not interested.” My heart belongs to an ex-military Yank.

The diamond-clad cover model shrugs as I stroll away under the Michelin restaurant’s skylight. In the men’s lounge, I close the door, sit in a leather chair, and thumb my cellphone.

This morning I left my fiancé naked and fully sated. Picturing her, I shift and rearrange my pants. “Hey gorgeous.”

“Hi there.” She shushes the cat, no doubt starving to death because he hasn’t snacked in an hour. “How’re things in London?”

“Noneventful. I called to say I miss you and I’m turning off my phone soon.” Perhaps the time has come to convince my father to retire from the Robin Hood business. If not for him, she and I would be riding The Eye, taking a tour down the Thames, or visiting the wax museum.

“I miss you, too. Have fun, but no ogling British boobies, or any other flavor, understood?” She’s being an awfully good sport about having to stay home.

Despite my worries about tonight, I chuckle. “On my honor, I only have eyes for one perfect set of titties.”

“You probably say that to all your fiancés.” Now her laugh makes me wish I’d convinced Dad to sit this one out.

“Only you, firefly.” My watch alarm chirps, and I sigh. “Listen, it’s almost showtime, so you need to promise to avoid bounty hunting until I return.”

Bugger off. The ensuing silence tells me she’s probably already spoken to her bondsman.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do, sweetheart.” Congratulating myself on how well I deliver my lie, I point out the obvious. “Suffering from DMD, you can’t help but attract trouble.”

“Danger magnet disorder is not a real thing. You and your friend Suds made it up.”

“We must agree to disagree.” My pal, the other card-carrying member of danger-magnets-anonymous has given me plenty of advice on how to handle a woman, who blindly walks into situations better left to professionals, and I’m finally getting the hang of it.

“Okay, Mr. Smarty-Trousers. How can you accuse me of attracting trouble while you’re the one doing you-know-what?”

“Speaking of which, I should go.” Standing, I smooth out the wrinkles of my tuxedo and adjust my bow tie.

“Be careful, AJ.” Her snorting laugh piques my curiosity.

“Excuse me?”

“Adrenaline Junkie.” The accusation hits a nerve. She’s spot on, but my addiction is not my fault. As a child, bring your kid to work day was rather unique and still is.

“You will pay for your remarks when I come home.” Picturing a day or two in bed, my tallywhacker swells as she giggles.

“Promises, promises. By the way, the next time I have therapy, you’re tagging along. Your daddy issues are way worse than my mommy ones. I still love you, though.”

“I love you, too. Don’t get your panties in a twist if you can’t reach me for a few hours.”

“I’m not wearing any, so there.” Her triumphant tone tells me she knows full well what’s happening under my fly.

“Evil witch.” Bloody hell. I’d enjoy some more sexual banter, but I’m late for dinner. “I need to go, luv.”

“Whatever. Guess I’ll simply ask BOB for more orgasms.”

Mine is the last laugh. “Should you look inside, the batteries have been removed. You save those orgasms for me, and I mean it. Bye.”

“My new one has a USB charger. Bye-eee.” One-upped by an expert, I snort out a laugh, hang up and walk back the way I came.

In the dining room, someone taps me on the shoulder. “Psst.”

Turning, I marvel at my father in the guise of a waiter. The gray wig, thick glasses, and mouth guard change his appearance so much, I almost don’t recognize him.

“Thank you, sir.” Pinky out, I pluck a caviar covered crostini from the offered platter.

His back to the camera in the ceiling’s corner, he places an index finger to his nose, and opens his hand. At this five-minute warning, I wander over to a gent about my age, who has a net worth second only to Elon Musk.


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