Still Standing (Wild West MC #1) Read Online Kristen Ashley

Categories Genre: Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wild West MC Series by Kristen Ashley
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 160732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
<<<<31321222324253343>158
Advertisement2


This confused me so I asked, “Sorry?”

He bent a bit to use one of his hands to push the bar on the door and it opened. Blazing Phoenix heat hit us, and he walked through.

“I’m pissed, Toots,” he explained, looked down at me. Still walking, he clarified, “At you.”

The drowsy was getting drowsier but still my eyebrows shot up.

“At me?”

“You’re not hearing my warnings and I’m speakin’ English,” he muttered.

“Why are you pissed at me?”

We stopped.

He dropped my legs carefully so my toes just skimmed the ground and the blanket fell away, the rest of me held close to him. His hand went into his pocket. I heard the sound of locks beeping on a car then he moved to open a door. Once opened, he lifted me and sat me in the seat of a very big, shiny black SUV.

Pain definitely dulled. Drowsy definitely drowsier. That barely hurt at all.

I turned my head when the blanket was thrown over my lap to see he was planted in the open door close to me.

Very close to me.

In fact, the second I turned my head, my face was an inch from his.

And he still looked ready to spit fire.

“Because,” he answered, “I told you, you walk out of the Dive without my protection, bad shit would happen. And you slid outta my bed, left me a stupid fuckin’ note and walked out of the Dive without protection. And, babe, you’re sittin’ here with a swollen eye, a busted lip and bruised ribs, so I don’t have to tell you, in less than one fuckin’ hour, bad shit happened.”

I stared up at him, stung.

My note wasn’t stupid.

I thought it was nice.

“I thought my note was nice,” I whispered.

“Do not be cute now, Clara,” he warned in a low, angry voice that was definitely tinged with heat.

And venom.

I didn’t think I was being cute, so I didn’t know how to stop.

Thus, I decided just not to speak.

His eyes dropped to my mouth and he muttered, “Smart,” then stepped back and slammed the door.

Gingerly, since I was in no shape to make a break for it, I buckled in as he rounded the hood and got in beside me. He switched on the ignition, put the SUV in gear, hooked his arm around the back of my seat and twisted to look behind us as he backed out.

I fought the lethargy at the same time I screwed up my courage to murmur, “I know you’re angry at me, but seriously, I need to call Tia. I also need to talk to Mrs. Jimenez and see if she’s all right. And,” I finished, “we left my clothes behind.”

The SUV moved forward, and he replied, “Your neighbor is fine, I’ll see to your girl and you can kiss those clothes good-bye.”

Oh dear.

“Now, do yourself a favor, babe, and shut your trap,” he concluded.

I didn’t want to shut my trap.

I wanted, at least, to talk to Tia.

And I would have explained why.

The problem was, the minute the SUV hit the road and found cruising speed, my eyes drifted closed.

I then found I didn’t have the strength to open them, and about a second later I was unconscious.

5

Crackers

I woke up in a big bed.

The sun was still shining, and this shine came from behind the bed.

And the pain pills had definitely worn off.

I gingerly lifted up on a hand and looked around.

Big bed, two nightstands, mismatched lamps, but both were pretty cool.

A dresser across the room, low, seven drawers. Picture frames on the dresser, a lot of them.

Two big windows behind the bed, the shades pulled up, and they were Roman shades and looked custom made.

A club chair in the corner by the dresser, leather the color of a penny, matching ottoman in front, both pieces of furniture covered in castoff clothes. A side table next to it that had two coffee cups and a spent beer bottle on it as well as some books. A standing lamp beside the chair, also pretty cool.

The headboard of the bed was covered in a plaid that had grays, blues, creams with some rust, the edges tacked with exposed nailheads.

A riot of clothes, belts and boots on the floor.

And tangled with them was a hospital gown.

I looked down at myself to see I was wearing a big, faded black T-shirt.

I guessed I was at Buck’s place.

There was an opened door to a closet on the wall by a door to what looked like a hall, and on the opposite wall there were double doors, both now open, leading into a bathroom.

Which was where I needed to go.

Treating my body gently, I threw the covers back and slowly swung my legs over the side of the bed.

My face felt tight, my ribs ached, and my hip was killing me.

Therefore, I got out of the bed like a granny and took my time as I wended my way through the clothes on the floor to the bathroom.


Advertisement3

<<<<31321222324253343>158

Advertisement4