Blade (Iron Rogues MC #3) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Insta-Love, MC, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Iron Rogues MC Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
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My hand trembled as I reached over to the passenger seat to pull my cell phone out of my purse. Unfortunately, my distraction cost me because it gave the dealer the chance to catch up to me and slam into the back of my car. My stuff spilled out of my bag and onto the floorboard of the passenger side, making it impossible for me to call Gideon to let him know what was happening.

The Midnight Rebel was only two miles from the Iron Rogues clubhouse, so I stomped my foot against the gas pedal and tried my best to get there before I got hit again. But I only made it a few more blocks before the other vehicle pulled up alongside me and rammed into my door. I gripped the steering wheel as hard as I could, my knuckles turning white, but it didn’t do any good.

On the third swipe of the drug dealer’s car, I was forced off the road and into the ditch to my right. My airbag went off, protecting my head from hitting the steering wheel, but the contents of my purse that were still on the passenger seat flew up, and something hit my forehead. My engine cut off, and there was a fine dust in the cabin of my car, along with an odd smell in the air.

It took me a moment to shake off my disorientation before I realized the man who had been chasing me was yanking on my door, trying to get it open. If it hadn’t been for the roar of a motorcycle driving toward us, he probably would’ve had enough time to smash in my window and get to me. But when the bike got close enough for the headlight to illuminate the dealer’s face, he hissed, “You better keep your mouth shut, bitch. Or else I’m gonna make you pay for fucking with my business.”

He slammed his fist against my door before racing back to his car and taking off. I slumped in my seat, taking a few slow breaths to settle my racing heart. But my pulse jumped again when I heard a deep voice call, “Need help?”

Blinking up at the man climbing off his bike, I lifted my hand to my forehead and winced as I brushed my hand against the cut above my brow. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the blood on my fingertips. My eyes widened, and he muttered, “Shit, you’re hurt. Can you open the door for me? Gotta check you over to see if you need an ambulance.”

Looking through my window, I saw the leather vest he was wearing and heaved a sigh of relief. My rescuer was one of my Gideon’s club brothers, Whiskey. I knew he couldn’t be connected to the guy who’d been chasing me because Gideon had told me that the club refused to have anything to do with drugs.

I reached out to unlock the doors with a slight nod. Opening it, he crouched down next to me.

“Can’t believe that bastard had the fucking nerve to hit you and run on our territory.” I winced at the fury in his voice, and he shook his head with a grimace. “Sorry, sweetheart. You don’t have anything to worry about. I get that you have every right to be scared of being around a big, strange guy after what just happened, but you’re safe with me. I swear it.”

“I know.” I offered him a weak smile. “I’m Elise Ayers, Gideon—um…Storm’s—little sister.”

His eyes widened. “No shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m doubly glad I was running late to the Christmas bash at the clubhouse.” Whiskey undid the buckle on my seat belt and gently lifted it away from my body. “So I was in the right place at the right time to help you. But I shoulda gotten that asshole’s plate number. Your brother is gonna want his head for causing your accident and driving away like that.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” I whispered.

His brows drew together as he echoed, “Not an accident?”

“He followed me from The Midnight Rebel,” I explained. “I thought if I drove fast enough, I could make it to the clubhouse before he forced me off the road, but he was right behind me. I thought I was going to die, but then you showed up and scared him off. I owe you my life. Thank you.”

“Fuck,” he bit out, glancing over his shoulder to glare in the direction the drug dealer’s car had taken off. Then his concerned gaze returned to scan my face. “Are you hurt anywhere other than the cut on your head? I don’t like us being out in the open like this. Want to get you to the clubhouse, where I know you’ll be safe.”

Getting out of here sounded like the perfect plan to me. “Yeah, I’m good to go.”



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