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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“You’re the one who found me?”

He nodded. “Well, Betty really deserves the credit, but I was with her.”

That dog would get the biggest bone she could find. She pressed a bandaged hand to his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Grunting, he shook his head. “No, baby, I’m the one who is sorry. I lost my shit on you because I was worried and fucking jealous, then I nearly lost you. Christ, it was the kick in the ass I needed. I love you, Jo, and I’ll tell you a hundred times a day for the rest of our lives if you give me the chance.”

Joy flooded her as tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away. If she cried now, the tears might fall forever. “Please don’t apologize. I should have listened. Should have stayed with you. If I had, none of this would have happened.”

Tracker cocked his head. “What did happen?”

Her mouth turned down. “He found out we were together and lost his shit. Tracker, he was going to shoot me. But then that tree branch came through the window and tried to do the job for him. He left me there bleeding and screaming for him to help.”

Andrew’s back as he abandoned her to the elements would play in her nightmares for a long time to come.

“Christ, baby.” Tracker’s eyes conveyed everything he didn’t say—guilt, fear, remorse.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. I knew he was an asshole, but never in a million years thought he’d hurt me.” She swallowed a painful lump. “To say it now still seems so unbelievable even though I lived through it. Can you tell me about my injuries?”

He cleared his throat, clearly trying to keep himself calm. “Yeah, uh… you’re scratched all the fuck up from the glass. Arms, face, hands.” As he spoke, he gestured to the bandages on her arms and hands.”

“My face?” she asked equal parts horrified and ashamed for caring about that the most.

“Babe,” he said, warning in his voice. “Don’t even spend one second stressing about it. There isn’t a damn thing in this world that could make you less beautiful. You hear me?”

She nodded. To spend so many years not wanting to be judged on looks only to worry about her appearance first and foremost felt like a betrayal to herself, but she couldn’t help it. So much of her past centered around her appearance. Stressing about it was second nature.

But nothing about Tracker’s proclamation seemed insincere. He truly meant the words. He found her beautiful no matter what.

“To set your mind at ease, the cuts on your face are all superficial. They had a plastic surgeon look at you and he said most of them won’t even scar. A few might leave very faint lines, but they’ll only make you look even more badass.”

She let out a watery chuckle as he winked.

“You had a huge chunk of glass in your side. It didn’t hit any major arteries, but you still lost a lot of blood. They decided against a transfusion but said you’ll basically feel like shit for a few days until your body replenishes what was lost. That one required a buttload of stitches.”

“Okay.” She nodded. Superficial cuts and some stitches. She could live with that.

“You also have a broken tibia on your right leg.”

Well, shit. That one would slow her down.

“There is a silver lining,” he said with a smile.

Jo snorted. “Oh yeah? What’s that? I didn’t break my spine?”

Tracker barked out a laugh. “Well, yes, it’s always a good day when you keep your spine intact, but I was referring to the fact that you have an entire club of big, burly bikers willing to carry you anywhere you need to go over the next eight weeks.”

Eight weeks? Shit.

“Hmm…” she said. Might as well embrace the suck as one of her fellow beauty pageant contestants used to say. “You know, I think I could really get used to being in Jinx’s arms.”

His scowl formed so fast, she laughed.

“Changed my mind. I’m the only one carrying you. I can’t be held responsible for my actions if I see my brothers’ hands on you.” He winked, letting her know he was teasing and that he trusted both his brothers and her.

His brothers were—Jo gasped and tried to sit up. Pain shot through her side, making her flop back against the bed.

“Whoa, babe, settle down. What’s wrong?”

If her face and hands weren’t scratched to shit, she’d smack her own forehead. How the hell could she have forgotten? “What happened with… you know?” The attack on Lobo’s factory should have been the first thing on her mind, not an afterthought.

He kissed her sore cheek, then whispered in her ear, “All good, babe. No one will be making anything in that factory ever again.”

The relief was staggering. “Really?”


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