Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC #9) Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Biker, Crime, Dark, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
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Yeah, this guy was no hero.

“Yes, Freya, I took care of it.” He spoke in a low tone, still liquid, almost sweet. Well, if cyanide was mixed with sugar. He tilted his head ever so slightly, not taking his eyes off me. “Want to know what that means?”

I was holding my breath, my heart echoing in my ears. “No,” I ground out. “I don’t need to know what it means.”

“It means he ain’t breathing anymore,” Hades said, as if I hadn’t spoken. As if he were enjoying my fear, the tremor in my voice.

I for one was not enjoying it. I fucking hated how cowardly I sounded, how I was letting this man play me like a fucking puppet.

“Just so you know, Freya,” he continued, leaning forward, his voice a velvet knife. “No one is going to breathe after they threaten you.” He lingered for a moment after he spoke, then he turned on his heel and left.

Left me standing there, staring at the door long after his Harley had roared off.

Chapter Six

THREE WEEKS LATER

I was alone in the parking lot again.

I was late leaving because one of the girls, Natasha, had had a bad night. It was her first night. First nights were always bad. Unless you were high as all hell, which she wasn’t. She was young. Barely twenty. I would’ve thought she was lying about her age had I not known that Kallum did extensive background checks to make sure there was no one underage working for him.

Those background checks extended to everyone who worked for Kallum. Records didn’t matter, since Kallum had an extensive one of his own. He believed in second chances. Even third and fourth chances. But he had his limits. No one actively wanted by law enforcement and no one convicted of violence against women. It surprised me greatly that Dante had no outstanding warrants or restraining orders against him. There was something cold about him. In addition to being a sleazebag, there was something else off about him. He was the kind of guy you rejected once, twice, three times then he attacked you in the parking lot for being a ‘frigid slut.’ Of course he hadn’t actually done that ... yet. It was only a matter of time. Because of that, I was glad that Dante had gotten sick of waiting for Natasha and me to come out and had gone home. Now that I didn’t have members of some kind of street gang after me, I wasn’t as scared of parking lots. It wasn’t like I was going to find another member of the Sons of Templar bleeding out there. In fact, there hadn’t been a member of the Sons of Templar in this parking lot in almost a month, bleeding or not.

I had not seen hide nor hair of any hottie in leather since Hades had left me confused, turned on and terrified three weeks ago. He hadn’t made any kind of promises, vows or oaths. He had absolutely no obligation to me. Fuck, it’s not like we’d been dating; he’d only been around me to make sure I wasn’t getting shot in the head until he could murder the man who had threatened me.

And he’d freely admitted to me that he’d murdered him.

Considering the rumors surrounding the Sons of Templar, I’d suspected he’d killed people. But suspecting something and hearing it right from the horse’s mouth were two totally different things.

Staying far away from the self-confessed murderer who got stabbed in parking lots and had disturbing control over me was the best thing to do. The only thing to do.

Not one member of the Sons of Templar had entered the club in three weeks. A huge disappointment to the rest of the girls. They were our hottest clients, and they tipped the best. It was unheard of for them to stay away for this long. I knew nothing had happened to them since on more than one occasion I’d heard the roar of Harleys through town. Just yesterday I’d even been sitting by the window at Oliver’s Café, drinking a cappuccino and nibbling on an almond croissant as I’d watched them drive by. It was like a cavalry of Harleys with Hansen, the president, in front and the rest staggered behind him.

I’d seen him, riding behind his president, hair flying back in the wind, jawline unmistakable. My stomach did a weird little flip, and my skin burned in memory of where he’d touched me. I used my vibrator thinking about him last night. I’d thought about him every night I used it. And afternoon.

I’d eventually forget him. It was a small town, one they pretty much ran, so I’d see them around. Eventually they’d come back to Fate again, and I had to get rid of the narcissistic assumption that I was the reason they hadn’t been back. They were outlaws, busy murdering competitors and stuff.


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