The Client Read online Jessica Gadziala (Professionals #8)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Biker, Contemporary, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Professionals Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
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Because he didn't even try to defend himself when I planted my hands on his shoulders, using his body as leverage to ram my knee up between his legs.

I didn't pause as he collapsed, just dashed up the stairs, threw the door open at the top, rushing past the guards there, men who likely never expected anyone to disobey the rules, to rush out, to ruin their secret location.

I didn't give a damn about their location.

I never planned on returning.

I just had to get the hell out of there.

I had to get away from him.

I couldn't face him now that he knew the truth.

The only reason my job worked in the first place was because no one ever saw me again.

And having to face the one mark I'd screwed up and gotten unprofessional with? Yeah, I couldn't do this.

I didn't get far.

It was naive of me to think I would.

A hand closed around my arm, pulling me to a stop.

"While I admire your willingness to try to run in those heels, Wasp, you're going to break something," Fenway's voice said, barely winded. "Do you really think you can run away from this?" he asked, hand loosening enough to allow him to move in front of me, looking down at me. "Look at me," he demanded, voice firm, brooking no argument.

Sucking in a deep breath, I forced my chin to lift, my gaze to move to his face, knowing this confrontation was going to need to play out. Whether I liked it or not. No matter how much it would hurt.

"How did you find me?"

"I keep a fixer firm on the payroll."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"When you left without a word, I came back here to them. I wanted to find you, so I could figure out what possessed you to up and leave in such a way."

"How did you know I was here?" I pressed. "At the casino," I clarified.

To that, his lips curved up ever so slightly as he reached into his pocket with his free hand, producing a chip.

"Your best friend thought I might need this," he said.

"Raven gave me up?" I asked, the words not making any sense. She would never do that. She always had my back.

"You can't be mad at her."

"Actually, I can. She had no right."

"What about me, darling? What rights did I have in all of this?" he asked, chin lifting, daring me to try to lie to him again.

"I don't want to do this, Fenway," I told him, hearing the crack in my voice, not trusting the floodgates to stay strong. Not with him standing there looking at me with accusation and—much more devastating—pain in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, darling, but that's just too fucking bad," he told me, tone cutting.

"Wasp, Fenway," Eamon's voice joined us, making me turn to find him approaching, arms raised. "I see you two have a thing going on right now. But I feel I need to warn you that you are standing on gang territory with a ten-thousand-dollar Rolex and a two grand gold necklace on," he said, making me glance around, seeing the group of young guys on the next corner over. "You might have some moves, babe," he went on, looking at me, "but I don't think you can knee them all in the cock at once. Why don't you take my car back to, well, anywhere else but here," he added, brow lifting, making it clear we didn't have a choice.

"He can take the car. I will get a ride."

"Oh, but I would enjoy it much more if you two had to endure each other on the ride back to the pick-up location," Eamon told us, snapping, making his guards move toward us.

The bigger guard moved over toward Fenway first, grabbing his arm.

Fenway stared daggers at me as he was led away. The other guard grabbed my arm, starting to pull me in the direction of the limo as well.

"You're a real asshole, you know that, right?" I asked Eamon as I moved past him.

"I do, babe, I do know that," he told me, lips curving up like he enjoyed my anger. "Don't bother trying to plot your vengeance, sweetheart," he told me in that annoyingly delicious accent of his. "I don't do love."

With that and nothing else, I was shoved none too ceremoniously into the back of the limo, making me half-topple over Fenway who made no move to help me get back up as I tried to get as far away from him as possible.

The car lurched to life as the silence in the back became nearly unbearable. I kept my gaze out the side window, willing my stomach to tolerate riding sideways because it gave me an excuse not to look in his direction.

"Don't," I demanded, catching his lips starting to part.


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