Tracker (Hell’s Handlers MC Florida Chapter #3) Read Online Lilly Atlas

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Mafia, MC Tags Authors: Series: Hell’s Handlers MC Florida Chapter Series by Lilly Atlas
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Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
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Jo would have shot them both if her service weapon wasn’t locked away in the station. Since murder wasn’t an option, she simply speared Fin with a death glare and went to sit in the small waiting area. His laughter followed her there.

Watching him work turned out to be a blast. He chatted with Steve, joking back and forth while he did his thing. Clearly, he had a way with people. His hands worked quickly and efficiently, making it hard for her to think of anything but how they felt on her body. Maybe she should get a tattoo. She’d been considering it for a while but hadn’t gotten around to biting the bullet. No one in the pageant world, and only a few in the modeling world, had any visible ink. Brands didn’t want you as a model if you had recognizable marks that could influence their target audience, and pageant judges would clutch their pearls and faint at the thought of it.

Probably why she wanted one.

Another way to toss up her middle fingers at industries she despised.

As promised, his client was out the door within five minutes. Jo stood from the chair and walked to where Fin stood, shutting down the register. The man was one of the hottest she’d ever seen. Not in a conventional way, but his edgy look appealed to her on every level, and for the first time in ages, she wondered what a man saw when he looked at her.

Next to him, she looked plain. No tattoos, only earrings, always wearing a tank top and cutoffs, and rarely any makeup. Maybe she should put a little more effort into her appearance when she knew she’d be seeing him. The man would probably appreciate a little icing on the cake.

But when he said, “Done,” and looked up at her, his gaze shone with obvious heat. “You are sexy as fuck,” he said as though he’d sensed her doubting herself.

Shit, she didn’t lack confidence. She knew she was pretty. Once upon a time, she’d promised she’d never alter her appearance for a man or for anyone other than herself. This day had fucked with her head.

Fin grabbed her hand. “Come with me, Jo Jo.”

She snorted a laugh. Once, her brother had called her Jo Jo, and their mother freaked out. That was the name of a monkey, not her precious daughter. No one in the family had made that mistake again. But she’d loved it and still did.

“We going up to the apartment?”

“Nope.” He led her over to the tattoo table Steve had been laying on. He patted the vinyl surface. “Hop on up.” As she frowned, he grabbed a pencil and sketch pad.

“I thought you had plans to destress me.”

“I do.” He grinned and flipped to a blank page.

“Well, usually, your plans involve me naked. And you naked.”

“That’s because I’m a smart man. But tonight, I have a different idea. Tonight, I think I should give you your first tattoo.”

Wow, this was not at all how she thought the evening would go. “I don’t know, Fin. I don’t even have an idea of what I’d want.”

“Lucky for your, you have me. I have the perfect idea for you.”

Have him? She didn’t have him. Sometimes she had his cock, but she didn’t have him. Nor did she want him. But she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t curious about what he had in mind.

“No peeking,” he said as he quickly sketched.

Jo harumphed. “Patience isn’t my strong suit.”

“You don’t say.”

She laughed. Shit, just being in his presence elevated her mood. She scooted onto the tattoo table, and they sat in comfortable silence while he drew. Jo took the opportunity to study his shop a little more. Neat as a pin, the place could have been a museum of incredible art. Drawings and photographs of a variety of tattoo styles hung all over the walls. She wondered which of them were his own work but didn’t want to interrupt his concentration by asking.

“Okay, what do you think?” he asked after a few minutes. He turned the sketchbook so she had a better view. On the paper, he’d drawn a woman’s upper body and shoulders with a flock of birds flying up the arm and spreading out across the collar bone. “I think it would be absolutely perfect right here,” he said, running his finger along her collar bone in the same spot as on his illustration.

She shivered at his touch. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. And it was. “What made you think of this for me?”

He tilted his head and stared straight into her eyes. “It symbolizes freedom. No one can clip your wings. Some people need to be allowed to fly their own path, and I think you’re one of those people.”

A lump formed in her throat as she ran her fingers across the lovely sketch. The man read her and understood her in a way no one else in her life had. Not her family. Not the man she’d dated for two years and planned to marry. Sometimes not even her. Her heart thumped heavy in her chest. “How did you know?”


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