Pop Goes the Biker (Turf Wars #3) Read Online Bella Jewel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Turf Wars Series by Bella Jewel
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Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
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And it only gets worse when a boot connects with my ribs, kicking me over and over until I’m screaming at them to stop.

They finally do.

My breathing is shallow, my lungs are on fire, and my head is spinning as I faintly hear them tell me that they’ll be back if their boss doesn’t get what he wants. Then, just like that, they’re gone. I lie on the ground, unable to move, unable to even pull my body toward the phone to call for help. The pain is too great and my body has stopped working.

I press my hand over my temple where the blood is slowing its trickle. I put pressure on it, trying to get it to stop. My stomach hurts and my ribs feel like they’re quite possibly broken. If they’re not, they are so damned bruised they might as well be.

I lie there until the door opens again, and Beckett’s voice calls out. “If you’re sleepin’, I swear to fuckin’ ...”

He stops talking when he sees me, lying on the floor, hand pressed to my head.

He moves quickly, tossing the pizza he got me onto the table and running toward me and dropping to his knees beside me. “What the fuck? Poppy, hey, what happened?”

“You left me is what happened,” I whisper, grimacing as he pulls me into a sitting position.

Beckett’s eyes scan over me, and he moves my hand from my head so he can see the wound. “Fuck me, that needs to be stitched. Who did this? Who the fuck did this?”

“Your old pal Rocco sent some men to ‘deliver’ a message to make sure I follow through with my end of the deal,” I croak.

“Fuck, fuck. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“No,” I say, my voice barely a whisper, “you shouldn’t have.”

His eyes lock onto mine, and I can see the guilt flash over them. Not only does the man smell like sex, but I can see bite marks on his damned neck. He went out to fuck his little girlfriend while I was here getting my ass kicked.

“Let’s get you up,” he murmurs, lifting me up.

He places me down on the sofa after a lot of wincing and crying as he gets me to it. My body hurts, god does it hurt. He lays me down and lifts my shirt, inspecting my ribs. “What the fuck did they do to you?”

“Hit me with a gun and kicked me,” I wince when he presses his fingers down on one of the wounds.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill them,” he growls, lowering my shirt.

“Oh,” I say, my voice angrier than I’d like, “you’ll kill them? Why? Because you feel guilty that you were out fucking a woman when you were supposed to be here with me?”

He stares at me. Almost confused.

“You have bite marks on your neck, you dipshit,” I mutter, closing my eyes.

For the first time ever, he doesn’t argue back.

What can he say?

He knows he left when he shouldn’t have.

Who am I to cry, anyway? I’m the one who got myself into this damned mess.

It’s me who should be feeling guilt.

God damned idiot I am.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST,” I cry out as Beckett pulls a needle through my skin. “Can’t we just go to the damned hospital?”

“No,” he growls. “We can’t because they’ll ask too many questions and you’ll have to explain. You want to explain?”

I glare at him.

“Surely there is something you can give her?” Eve questions, sitting beside me.

Beckett had no choice but to call Riggs and tell him what happened. Within an hour, they were here and he was not happy. Not even a little. The two of them got into a screaming match outside before Eve demanded they help me or she would take me to the hospital herself. Then Ramona and Adan arrived with some supplies and now here I am, getting my damned head stitched without a single drop of pain relief.

“I can’t make this any fuckin’ easier, Eve,” Beckett snaps. “I’m doin’ the best I can.”

“If you didn’t leave her to begin with, this wouldn’t have happened!” Ramona chastises him.

“Shut the fuck up, Ramona,” Beckett barks, pausing to glare at her.

“Calm down, brother,” Adan warns. “You’re walkin’ a fine line.”

Beckett glares at them before continuing to stitch me. I hold it together, I really do, but by the last stitch I don’t have it in me to be strong a second longer. A tear bursts forth and rolls down my cheek. This causes Beckett to pause and stare at it before his eyes meet mine. He reaches out and swipes the tear away. I close my eyes, jaw clenched, refusing to let him see another.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear it.

He finishes up and sprays the stitched wound with something that burns like all hell. I clench my teeth and wait for it to dry before opening my eyes and letting him help me up. I need a shower, and I need to sleep.



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