 by Laylah Roberts.jpg)
Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Victor Malone is his oldest brother’s right-hand man, the watchful protector. Swift with his revenge if you cross him or his family.
Most people run from him . . .
But not her.
Gracen has no idea that the man who comes into her bakery each morning for his sweet bun fix is one of the most feared men in New Orleans. And when she finds herself in trouble, there’s only one person she can turn to for help.
But what happens once she finds out the full truth of who he is?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Crunch!
Victor smashed his fist into his opponent’s face. The roar of the crowd barely registered. He wasn’t here for them. The other guy stumbled back, his hand on his face as blood poured from his broken nose.
Come back at me.
Give me a decent fight.
It would be easy to end the fight now. A few punches to his ribs. A kick to the back of the knee. A choke hold when he fell.
But Victor wasn’t ready for the fight to be over. He could still feel that burning, sizzling need inside him. And he had to do something to release it.
So, he waited for the asshole to shake off the pain of his broken nose, wipe the blood away, and move back to him.
Smack! Smack!
He pummeled the guy, punching his torso then darting back.
Come on, asshole.
The guy groaned, swaying while the crowd’s roar increased. They could scent his desire for blood. To make this asshole suffer.
In these underground fights, there was only one rule. Do not kill your opponent. Because no one wanted the hassle of taking care of the body.
Come at me!
But the dickhead just crumpled to the floor in a heap.
The crowd was on their feet as Victor gave the bastard a final kick in the stomach. Yeah, it could be seen as unsportsmanlike. But then, this wasn’t a sport down here.
It was dirty, nasty, bloody survival.
Just the way he liked it.
Besides, he had his reasons for hating this asshole. His friends rushed forward to drag him away as Victor glanced around.
Did he have time for another fight?
He hit the cold gaze of his oldest brother. Regent shook his head, knowing what he was thinking.
Fuck. He clenched his hands into fists but didn’t let anything show on his face.
It wasn’t enough—not nearly.
He nodded as George, the guy Regent hired to manage the fights, approached, talking about how he wanted Victor to fight this new up-and-coming fighter next week.
He’d heard it all before. This was getting . . . mundane. Boring.
It wasn’t enough anymore. The fights were barely touching his need to do something . . . anything to help relieve the demons inside him.
Walking to where Regent stood in their private, secure area, he picked up the T-shirt he’d dropped and slipped it over his huge frame. He’d always been big, even as a kid he’d towered over all the other kids. He’d seen the way other parents had eyed him warily, as though worried he’d attack their children.
If they could only see him now.
But his size was his one advantage over other people. He wasn’t a leader like Regent with a cunning mind, wasn’t driven and smart like Jardin, or charismatic like Maxim.
Victor was strong, muscular, and he could fight. That’s all he had to contribute.
Regent met him part way. His bodyguard, Jose, stood behind him. Victor wanted him to start traveling with more bodyguards, but Regent didn’t trust many people. He had a couple of guards at the house and his lieutenants. That was it.
And he got it. After Alice, they were all on edge and less trusting.
“Let’s go,” Regent said, eyeing him as they walked out the back door. Their car was waiting for them at the curb.
Jose held the door for both of them. Regent slid into the car with a nod, making it all seem so easy.
Victor always felt awkward when Jose or one of the other guards did this. He’d have been happier being the bodyguard.
That’s what he’d been born to do. To guard his brother. To take a bullet for him if necessary. That’s what his father had always impressed on him.
How disposable he was. How it was his responsibility to keep Regent alive.
Victor knew Regent didn’t see it that way. But it was what it was.
He should have fucking realized what Alice was up to. They’d let her into their house, close to their precious sister, and none of them had realized she was the rat.
He should have guarded Regent better.
Instead, Regent had been poisoned. He’d nearly died.
After he’d climbed in, Regent handed him an ice pack and some antiseptic for the scrapes on his knuckles. The privacy screen was already up, separating the back and front seats.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled as Jose shut the door.
“You don’t know where that asshole has been. Clean the cuts or I will.”
Victor shot his brother a look. He sounded stressed. That wasn’t normal for Regent, but there had been a lot of shit going down lately.
Since they’d discovered Alice had been working for Patrick McMahon, Regent had grown even colder. Removed. Detached.
It probably didn’t help that Lottie had moved away with her two men. Lottie had always given Regent someone to fuss over. To take care of.
His oldest brother needed someone to protect and look after to keep himself from becoming an emotionless robot. To keep him human.