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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Brooke and Liv stood to head inside. Jo waved for them to go ahead. Thick emotion welled up inside of her, and she needed a moment to collect herself before she burst into tears and sobbed all over Tracker.

If tonight had shown her anything, it was that she’d fallen head over heels in love with the man.

It’d kill her if he didn’t feel the same.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

TORTURE WASN’T TRACKER’S specialty. Not like it was for Spec. He wouldn’t know where to begin with getting Dante to open his trap. His idea of dishing out pain was a six-hour scalp tattoo.

That being said, he wasn’t squeamish and backed Spec one hundred percent.

After trussing Dante up with zip ties and a gag, they’d loaded him into the back of Spec’s truck and drove him to the compound. The Handlers’ property consisted of over five hundred acres of farmland. It butted up against Curly and Brooke’s home. Often the prez rode an ATV across the land to get home to his woman.

Tonight, they’d driven Dante deep into the property. Spec dragged him out of the truck by his feet. His large body slammed to the ground, eliciting a pained grunt from behind Dante’s gag. If this kind of activity became a habit, they might need to build a structure for discreet activities, but tonight being out in the middle of the farmland would work.

Tracker grinned.

Let the games begin.

“Help me lug his ass over there.” Spec pointed to where Pulse and Ty waited with a lantern, a bag of whatever toys Spec requested for this endeavor, and Pulse’s medical bag.

Tracker jammed his hands under Dante’s shoulders as Spec shifted to move him to his feet.

“On three,” Spec said. “One… two… three.”

They both groaned as they lifted the struggling man. Dante screamed behind his gag as he attempted to jerk away from their hold, but zip ties on his wrists and ankles made escape impossible.

“Fuck, he’s dense,” Tracker panted out as they hauled him toward Ty and Pulse. Curly killed the truck’s engine and followed. “How’d I end up with the heavy end.”

“Dump him here,” Spec ordered when he was satisfied with their location.

“Works for me.” Tracker dropped Dante like his body was on fire.

His back hit the ground with an audible thud. Must have hurt like a bitch to land on his bound hands. Spec hadn’t moved as fast, so he was left holding Dante’s feet. He laughed. “Shit, Tracker, I like your style.”

Chuckling, he shrugged. “I got a woman to get back to. Wanna get this shit over with fast. Move on to more pleasurable parts of the night.”

“Well, fuck, you make a damn good point.” Spec dropped Dante’s feet. Actually, he slammed them to the ground. “Let’s party, boys.”

Curly squatted down next to Dante and moved the lantern closer to the bound man’s face. Obvious fear shown in Dante’s eyes as the whites glowed in the light. Gone was the bravado the man showed when he harassed Brooke and Liv at a park a few months ago. The balls he’d shown when he attacked Liv on Handlers’ property had shriveled to raisins.

And Tracker fucking loved it. Dante was nothing more than an oversized bully who was nobody without Lobo at his back. Shouldn’t take much to break a man like that.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, fucker,” Curly said with hatred thick in his voice.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re gonna answer. You lie, you get pain. I don’t like your answer, you get pain. Your face twitches the wrong way, you get pain. You sensing a pattern here?”

Dante nodded so fast he looked like a Bobblehead doll.

“Let me tell you a little something about my friend, Spec, here,” Curly said with an amused lithe in his voice. “He’s a little unhinged when it comes to this kinda shit. Oh wait,” Curly snapped as though having an epiphany. “You already know Spec, don’t you? That’s right. You put your hands on his woman.”

Tracker snickered as Spec cracked his knuckles, a predatory gleam lit his eyes. The man was out for blood.

“Shit, sorry, man, I bet Spec’s still carrying a bit of a grudge about that. You’re in for a shitty night.” He straightened back up. “Wanna get him warmed up, Spec?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

A knife appeared in Spec’s hand from who the hell knew where. The man probably had an entire arsenal hidden on his person at all times.

Spec flicked his wrist, and the knife flew through the air, lodging in Dante’s thigh.”

Satisfaction flared in Tracker.

That’s for Lock.

Spec’s eyes widened. “Well, shit. I dropped my fucking knife. I am so damn clumsy.”

They all laughed. Well, not Dante. He screamed behind the gag.

“Where does the fentanyl-laced meth come from?” Curly asked. He yanked the gag down so it rested on Dante’s chin.


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