Dickhead (Wrong Side of the Tracks #3) Read Online K.A. Merikan

Categories Genre: Biker, Dark, M-M Romance, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wrong Side of the Tracks Series by K.A. Merikan
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Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
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A snowflake falling on Hammer’s nose pulled him out of the berserk mode, and he glanced at the growing crack in the ceiling. This house could collapse at any moment now that the walls had been weakened by the explosion.

Basement. Ryker had spoken about taking Dex to the basement.

In case someone hid there with him, Hammer grabbed the Lumberjack’s shotgun and rushed around, searching for a door, or an opening in the floor.

He spotted the trapdoor on the far side of the small kitchen next door, locked with a steel latch. Pain stabbed him all the way to the elbow when he fell to his knees and attempted to use his injured hand. He shook it off and opened the latch before looking into the small space below. Between four walls covered by shelves with all kinds of jars and cans was Dex.

“Fuck! Hammer! Are you okay?” Dex asked, getting up from the floor. He was cuffed to a pipe and a large bruise grew on his forehead as if a third eye was about to open there. Which would hardly help, considering how little foresight he’d shown today.

Hammer hung his head as fatigue settled in. He could try to search all the men for the key to those damn handcuffs, but they could have also dropped it somewhere, and he didn’t have the strength to deal with it.

Ignoring Dex’s questions, he swung his leg onto the steep, ladder-like stairs. The long cloak got between his foot and the rung, causing a new level of frustration, so he shoved it off his arms and let the bundle of damp fabric fall on Dex as he descended, careful not to touch anything with his injured hand.

“Pull your hand away. I’ll shoot the chain.”

“Y-you sure…?” Dex asked, squeezing the bloodstained cloak. He licked his lips, watching Hammer like a puppy that knew it shouldn’t have peed on the floor. Those big brown eyes weren’t saving him from consequences.

Hammer needed a fucking drink.

He reloaded, placed the barrel against the chain, as far away from flesh as was sensible, and pulled the trigger.

The bang made his ears ring again, and the close quarters amplified the scent of gunpowder, but it was dealt with at least, so he spun around and climbed back up, eager for a breather outside.

He didn’t look back, but knew Dex was right behind him, which was made obvious by an explosion of words.

“Oh fuck! You dealt with all this yourself? At least Ryker’s finally dead. And was that, like, a grenade exploding earlier? My ears are fucked. Oh, my fucking god! Did you do this too?” he asked when they reached the decimated living room and spotted the guy with antlers in his guts. Hammer exhaled when he noticed his knife lying in the middle of the room.

“Ryker isn’t dead,” Hammer said, dropping the shotgun as he picked up the blade and faced Dex with a deep scowl. “I had to let him flee to save you, and we might never see him again.”

Dex froze just as he was reaching for an unopened can of beer still standing on the mantelpiece. “Oh. Oh fuck. Should we… try to catch hi—Hammer, your hand!” He went pale and rushed forward, but Hammer stepped away as fury burned through the clouds of worry and fatigue.

“I told you to wait and observe. It’s not fucking hard to just not do something,” he roared at the top of his lungs.

Dex took a step back, and his shoulders fell. “I’m… I’m sorry. I was sure I had Ryker on a platter, and—it was kind of an accident… But it’s really cold here. I’m sure we can save your finger if we just go to the ER fast enough. I once saw this documentary about a guy who—”

“I’m not wasting my time on a hospital when there’s four bodies to deal with,” Hammer shouted, gesturing at the aftermath of the fight. His mangled finger, or the mess left of it, dangled from his hand like mockery, so he placed it on the same sideboard that broke Lumberjack’s head and cut it off altogether.

The pain grew less insistent right away.

Dex licked his lips. "Bad luck that it wasn't the pinkie."

Hammer took a deep breath, but it didn’t help with his agitation. "You actually need your pinkie to grab things. This is better. Though it would have been fucking better if you had stayed put and I kept all my fingers!"

"Now I can't put a ring on it…"

Was the dumbass biting back a smirk?

"Is this a joke to you?" Hammer roared.

Dex took a step back, lowering his gaze and pointing to the kitchen. “I’ll find a first aid kit.”

But Hammer grabbed him by the arm and shoved him toward the door. “Out. The roof can collapse any minute.”

Dex was only missing a tail between his legs to complete the pathetic image he made when they left the cabin. He pointed to a charred man still twitching in the snow nearby.



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