Doc – Silver Saints MC Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Billionaire, Insta-Love, MC, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
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I walked over and dropped him onto a cushion, giving him another scratch.

“Keep my spot warm for me, Snowball.” I kissed his nose, laughing softly at his grumpy expression. “Hopefully, this won’t take too long, and we can get back to our binge-watching soon.”

3

Doc

Working alone was always easier for me. No witnesses to keep quiet, no partners that could potentially betray you, no one to watch like a hawk so they don’t screw up the whole fucking plan. The only people I trusted to help me were my brothers, and even then, only a select few. Although it was rare that I took anyone with me, they usually supported me from somewhere else. Like Hack’s security company.

Entering the courthouse when it was open gave me the opportunity to blend in with the crowds, but it made bypassing access control systems much more difficult. There were times when the invisibility of a crowd was necessary, but this mission required solitude.

I wanted to get in and out unnoticed in case I couldn't find proof that Judge Timkins was making side deals, profiting off giving people lighter or harsher sentences than their crimes warranted. If I left empty-handed, I didn’t want the judge on alert that someone was digging around in his life.

Hack had already done a deep dive into his life. He found plenty of skeletons, but none of them were enough to get the judge’s ass thrown in jail. Disbarred, probably. Divorced, definitely. But not jail.

So we figured the trail must be on paper, which was why I was at his office later on a Friday night. And on the plus side, if I found something, he couldn’t report the break-in without them wanting to know what was stolen. Then he’d be up shit creek without a paddle.

We’d let him stew a little while we handled Rom’s case, though. One of our fill-in tail gunners, Knight, was a bounty hunter and could track just about anyone. Babysitting the judge was below his skill level, but when it involved another patch, he wouldn’t trust the job to just anyone else. He worked with a couple of other fugitive recovery agents, particularly a married couple who saved his ass a time or two. They’d been more than happy to help when they heard about the judge’s dirty dealings. So they would watch Timkins when Knight was unavailable.

“Unlocked the southwest fire exit,” Grey said into my earpiece, breaking into my thoughts. He was Hack’s best hacker and a good friend, so I trusted his skill. Plus, he’d already proven himself many times when he was a prospect and then a patch.

Security at the courthouse was minimal on the weekends because most doors and windows were locked, as well as offices, courtrooms, and other spaces—many that had restricted access during the day, as well. And CCTV footage covered most of the building.

“Motion lights?”

“Some young punks threw rocks at the lights this afternoon and broke a few,” Grey said with laughter in his voice. Then he sighed. “Some people’s kids.”

I rolled my eyes, but the corners of my lips tipped up—pretty much the equivalent of a grin for me.

“Cameras?” I asked as I walked along the wall. The windows started an inch or two higher than my six-foot height, so there was no need to crouch. If I had been forced to walk bent at an angle, it might have attracted the attention of anyone who looked in this direction. Not that many people spent time walking around the entire building, but the parking lot was at the rear, so depending on the spot they chose, they had a good view of where I was. But most people ignored their surroundings, especially dark areas.

“Still frame,” Grey answered. “But I can only pause them for ten to fifteen seconds at a time or anyone watching the screens will see the hitch in the feed.”

I crept up to the door he’d opened for me, glanced around to make sure I was alone, then pulled it open and stepped into the stairwell. The interior of the courthouse had cream walls with expensive artwork, and everything else was made of dark wood. In stark contrast to that, the fire exits were gray concrete from top to bottom, with the exception of dark-blue railings and bright-red fire hoses. Every little sound echoed loud and clear, so I was careful not to let my boots squeak on the floor.

“The cameras are only on the landings,” Grey informed me. “So stop two steps from the top, and I’ll tell you when.”

I did as I was told as he guided me up to the third floor where the judge’s chamber was located.

“The door to his office is about a thousand feet to your left. There are two cameras that cover that area. Just a sec—okay go.”


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