Frost Hell’s Handlers MC Florida Chapter #3.5) Read Online Lilly Atlas

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
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She nodded her thanks and settled in a booth against the back wall. Televisions around the space broadcast various sporting events. Rachel wasn’t a sports junky, but she settled in, watching the Tampa Buccaneers game on the closest television.

“Hey there! Here’s a menu for you.” A perky blonde wearing a green and blue plaid mini skirt and tight white T-shirt with the bar’s logo stood at the end of the booth. She had bubble gum-pink lipstick and smoky shadow rimming her eyes. “Know what you want to drink?”

“What do you have on tap that’s seasonal?” Rachel asked as she accepted the menu.

They settled the drink order then the waitress flounced over to the bar where she sat and batted her long lashes at the bartender. Rachel couldn’t help but smile at the overt flirting.

It didn’t take more than a minute to decide she wanted a mushroom and Swiss burger with zesty fries. After placing her order, she rested back against the booth and enjoyed the peaceful minutes alone. Unlike her life before coming to Florida, she’d rarely had a moment to herself in recent days. While she loved the busybodies in her newfound family, having alone time felt nice as well.

The waitress delivered her meal with a promise to check on her soon. As she bit into the perfect medium-rare burger, her eyes rolled back in her head. Damn, that was delicious.

Halfway through her burger, a jangle rang out, indicating she was no longer the only diner in the bar. She didn’t bother glancing up, enjoying her meal and icy beer too much to bother checking out the newcomer.

Her own apathy had her smiling. A few weeks ago, she’d have been tense and staring at whoever had come to the bar, assessing their threat level and fighting off rising panic. Now, she knew she had people at her back. Big, strong, growly people who wouldn’t hesitate to pluck the eyes out of anyone who so much as glared at her sideways.

Gruesome, maybe, but the knowledge wound itself around her and gave her the confidence to branch outside her small comfort zone.

“Well, ain’t you pretty.”

Rachel froze with her burger halfway to her mouth.

Completely froze.

She didn’t blink, didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

“What’s a pretty little thang like you doin’ all by your lonesome?”

A large body slid into the booth across from her.

“Right?” A second male voice spoke. “Looks like she needs a friend. Maybe a few friends.”

“I’m friendly,” the first guy said. He reached out and snagged a fry from her plate, swiping it through her ketchup before stuffing it in his mouth.

Her chest threatened to burst from the buildup of carbon dioxide. Rachel blew out a shaky breath and lowered her burger to the plate. She took in the man sitting across from her.

He was big. Almost as big as Jinx but missing the ever-present smile and glint of amusement Jinx always has in his eye. This guy should have shaved a few days ago, should have hit the gym a few years ago, and should have washed that morning. He should have given up smoking too, unless he enjoyed those yellowed teeth and that scratchy voice. The faded skull tattoo on the side of his shaved head drew her attention.

So much of him reminded her of the man who’d beat her bloody years before.

And those recollections had her paralyzed.

Glued to her spot in the booth.

“Cat got your tongue?” the second man asked. He stood tall and thin with buzzed hair and a spiderweb tattoo next to his eye. The spider dangled from a single thread on his cheek.

Charming.

Almost as charming as the dirt under his fingernails.

“I can think of some uses for your tongue if you don’t want to talk,” the guy across from her said with a leering wink.

Rachel focused on her breathing. Her chest tightened to the point of being uncomfortable, and her hands trembled like she’d had fifteen cups of coffee, but she hadn’t lost her shit yet. Frost would be proud. So would Curly. They’d also hunt these Neanderthals down and make them wish they’d died in their sleep last night as soon as they heard about this.

They’d have her back, as promised. Her brother and her, well, her boyfriend. Her sexy, sweet, tough-as-nails boyfriend.

Thoughts of Frost had her spine straightening. He believed in her. All the Handlers did. They knew how to make her feel safe and comfortable. The sooner she got the hell out of there, the sooner she could return to her new home base.

“I have somewhere to be,” she said as she scooted along the bench. She shot to her feet and made a beeline for the exit.

Just as she thought she was home free, a beefy arm banded around her waist and yanked her back against a body much larger than hers, and then she was pulled onto a man’s lap. “Why you runnin’ off so fast, doll?”



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