Bones – Satan’s Fury MC Read Online L. Wilder

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Mafia, MC Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
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Elsie:

Hey-

Sorry to hear you had such a long day.

I hope everything’s okay.

Me:

I figured you’d be asleep.

Elsie:

I’m a little restless tonight.

Me:

Come down to my room.

Elsie:

That’s okay. I’ll be fine.

Me:

Elsie

Elsie:

Wyatt

I’d always loved that she’d never called me by my road name. It was either Wyatt or nothing. Chuckling under my breath, I sent her one final message.

Me:

My room.

Now.

I returned my phone to the bedside table, and it wasn’t long before my door crept open, and light flooded into the dark room. Elsie stepped into the room, then closed the door behind her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I lifted the covers and that’s all it took for her to crawl in next to me. I slipped my arm around her waist and pulled her close, and within a breath, my entire body started to relax. “That’s better.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You have a long day, too?”

“You could say that.”

“Something happen?”

“No, I just got in my head a little, and once the wheels get to turning, it’s hard to shut them off.”

“So, you had something on your mind.”

She nodded, then sighed. “Today would’ve been Brantley’s twenty-first birthday.”

“Oh, damn. I had no idea.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s fine.” Her voice trembled as she told me, “I went out to the cemetery for a while. I thought it would make me feel closer to him or whatever, but it only made me miss him more. My parents, too. I know it’s been a long time and I should be over it by now... but I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing them.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could do something to make it better.”

“You already have.” She glanced up at me with a half-smile. “You’ve always been there when I needed you most.”

“And I always will be.”

Elsie didn’t respond. She simply rested her head on my chest and closed her eyes, and it wasn’t long before her body grew limp and her breaths shallow. I was beginning to think she’d drifted off to sleep until I heard her whisper, “Thank you, Wyatt. Thank you for everything.”

Without saying anything more, she drifted off to sleep, and with the sounds of her soft, soothing breaths, it didn’t take long for me to follow after. The next morning, I woke up with Elsie sprawled across my bed, and she looked absolutely beautiful. She was wearing a pair of pink knit shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt, and her lips were full and pouty from sleeping hard.

I wanted nothing more than to kiss her and fuck her long and hard, but she was sleeping so soundly, I hated to wake her. Besides, I had work that needed to be done, so I eased out of bed and got dressed. I left Elsie a note, then made my way to the kitchen for some coffee and a bite to eat. It was still early. The sun was just starting to rise, so I was able to make my coffee and go without the hassle of talking to anyone.

When I got to my desk, I took out the list of names that we’d compiled, and I studied it for several moments, and for reasons I still don’t understand, my eyes fell on the name David Bruton. I passed by it several times, but I kept coming back to it. I don’t know why I became so fixated on it.

Bruton was a name I’d heard many times.

He was a retired history teacher in his late fifties. He was widowed with two sons who both lived in the city, but he busied himself with the town council and church every Sunday. He owned various properties throughout town, along with two large warehouses down at the dock—each with their own motion-censored security camera.

They monitored both the property and the road.

I had no reason not to believe that Bruton was an all-around good guy, but I followed my instincts and started digging into his history. I started with the basics. His address, his phone number, and his social. Everything panned out, so I moved on to his work history. Everything looked legit until the summer of ‘98.

There was nothing before that.

No job. No address. No phone number. Nothing.

The trail had run dry, so I did the only thing I could. I found an old picture of him and ran it through BioID—our facial recognition software. The first scan came up with nothing, so I searched online for a different image. I sent it through, and after a lengthy search, the name Carl Davenport appeared on the screen.

I knew right then that I had found something big—something that made my hours and hours of research worthwhile. I typed his name into the search engine, and within seconds, a long list of Carl Davenports popped up on the screen. I started going through each of them until I spotted a photograph that looked similar to the original image I had for Bruton. A few more clicks, and then, I saw the logo for Interpol.



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