Hard Road Read Online Joanna Blake (Untouchables MC #4)

Categories Genre: Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Untouchables MC Series by Joanna Blake
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
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“It’s a group decision, okay? We’re all trying to cool off. That’s why we told Shane to go home. We will figure this out tomorrow.”

“He had blood all over him,” I said. “But he left.”

“He left the hospital?”

My stomach dropped. Conn sounded worried. Panicked almost. Shane was a bit of a wild card. And there was something more going on here that no one was saying. Somehow, Shane had a stake in this. A big one now, with Parker being targeted.

But he had been part of it before, I was just realizing.

“Yeah. He said he’d be back. That he had to do something.”

“Fuck!” I heard him turn away from the phone. “He’s coming back, guys. Be ready.”

“Be ready for what?”

“I can’t say. I just . . . I love you, woman.”

“Connor! Do not hang up on me!”

He hung up. I stared at my phone and nearly threw it across the parking lot.

Men. Too sexy to kill and too stupid to leave on their own.

I looked back to the hospital. We were all in the same boat. All I could do was trust Connor and Mason. Cain had a good head on his shoulders too. I prayed that they would be able to calm Shane down.

That maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t all blow up in our faces.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Shane

Get some rest. We’ll be here in the morning.

That’s the text I got from Connor. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and took the stairs two at a time. I had blood on my clothes and I was about to get more on them. They wanted me to rest, but it was never going to happen.

I was somehow thinking clearly enough to change my clothes. If I got pulled over with blood all over me, it would delay this moment. My final vengeance.

The end of my life’s purpose for all these years. It was about to be over, once and for all.

Smith was going to die.

He’d stolen my brother. And now he’d hurt my precious girl. The last person on earth who deserved to be hurt. She was so good, so pure, so perfect. And he’d traumatized her.

He’d nearly killed her, I reminded myself.

My righteous rage had been there for years. By hurting Parker, he’d just sent it to another dimension. I was literally vibrating with fury. I was going to tear him apart piece by piece, and nothing any of them could do would stop me.

I stormed into the house, tearing my clothes off and shoving them into the washing machine. I threw in vinegar and Borax and set it to run. I’d wash them three times, at least. And when I got his blood all over me, I’d do it again.

But not with these clothes. I would not allow his blood to mix with hers.

She’s alive, Shane. He didn’t win.

I needed my weapons. Not just the guns and knives. I needed the specialized items I’d collected. The ones that were best at inflicting pain. A small flame thrower used for soldering. Smaller, sharper knives for carving.

The kind of stuff he’d used on his victims.

This was going to be a long night for all of us, but especially for him.

He’d beg for the dawn. For mercy. For forgiveness.

And he would see none of them.

Because before the sun came out, I was going to carve out his eyes.

I stormed into the bedroom and pulled on a black shirt and dark jeans. It would be easier to hide the blood on my way back home. If I ever could come home again. The kind of things I was planning . . . well, they changed a man.

I’d felt it after Dante. And if I did it again, I knew the changes would be permanent. I didn’t fucking care. He had to suffer the way he’d made them suffer.

I was doing this for Billy and Parker. No one else.

I knelt and reached behind the dresser, knowing I had some weapons taped to the back. My hand closed on something else instead. A book. Hard cardboard and paper. I pulled it out and stared at it.

It was hers. The sketch book I’d bought Parker a couple of weeks ago once I’d recognized her talent with pencil and paper. I had wondered what else she could do and vowed to set her up with her very own art studio in the spare bedroom.

My heart started pounding as I realized once again that I’d nearly lost her. I had lost the privilege to call her mine. I’d failed her. I don’t know how she still wanted me, or why, but somehow, she did. I just wasn’t sure I could live up to it.

I hadn’t protected her.

The words pounded into me again and again.

I hadn’t protected her.

I stared at the notebook in my hands. Why was the pad behind the dresser? Had it fallen? Parker must have hidden it here. Maybe she didn’t want me to see what was inside. I flipped open the pages, feeling like my hands were far away from my body. They were someone else’s hands, doing something they shouldn’t. She wouldn’t like it if I snooped, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to feel close to her. I needed to see.


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