Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC #9) Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Biker, Crime, Dark, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
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Hades’s glower intensified tenfold. “I would never lay a hand on you.”

An oath.

Something at the bottom of my stomach flipped. In a bad way and a something else kind of way. I could not allow myself to get caught up in that feeling, and luckily, the fire burning a little higher in my belly helped.

“I know you’re not going to lay a hand on me,” I conceded, my voice firm, sure. I believed it with every cell in my body. Which was incredibly stupid and naïve considering just last night I’d been sure that Derek wouldn’t lay a hand on me either. Needless to say, I believed my own words and his.

“I also know that I’m not moving in with you,” I continued. “For a variety of reasons. Some of which I’ve already mentioned, like that I barely know you. You’re part of a club that I have absolutely nothing against but I’m not at all interested in getting caught up in. Beyond that, I have a dog who likes his home. I like my home. I like my mugs. My shower. My entire beauty routine is there. My sheets are divine. I feel safe there. Plus, the entire idea is completely ridiculous and not something that happens in real life.”

“What about that?” Hades gestured violently to my face, so much so that I flinched. That only caused his jaw to harden further. “That,” he murmured again, nodding his head to my face. “That is something very fuckin’ real that happened in your life last night. Something that, by the sound of it, is very fuckin’ likely to happen again based on your description of this asshole. And that’s something I refuse to let happen to you ever again.”

Another oath.

“Eventually, I’ll take care of this fucker,” he vowed, causing my blood to run cold.

There was no mistaking what he meant by that, nor was there any mistaking that the dark part of me was satisfied and turned on by his words.

“I don’t plan on that takin’ long,” he added. “But it could take longer than I want. And this piece of shit has been stalking you for years, so he’s not goin’ to stop. Not until you’re dead. He’s going to come back. You live in the middle of nowhere with no one to hear you scream. Your dog is terrified of its own shadow. You’re unprotected.” He paused, his eyes moving over me, something moving inside of his mind. “If you’re not willin’ to move in with me, I’m comin’ to you.” He raised his brow ever so slightly in challenge.

I bit my lip, forgetting that it was bruised and swollen. It smarted, but I was glad for the pain. With the pain came clarity.

This biker in front of me was making it very clear that he was going to do everything in his considerable power to make sure I didn’t get hurt again. And although it was absolutely ridiculous to consider him moving into my home, into my sanctuary, it was also ridiculous to think that Derek was going to leave me alone. Plus, there was no way I was going to move into a strange place with a man who terrified and fascinated me.

Hades was right about him. I knew that the second his fist landed in my face. For whatever reason, he wasn’t going to stop until he killed me. And I had no protection. I didn’t believe in guns. I barely knew how to throw a punch and my dog would do nothing if an intruder came through intent on murder.

Sure, I could buy a gun, learn how to shoot, I could take a kickboxing class—which I was totally going to do—I could run again, but none of those were permanent fixes. I already knew that if this went to court, his father would know a judge or a senator who’d get him off with little more than a slap on the wrist. That would be after my entire life was dissected, and I’d be made to look like a cheap whore.

So instead of arguing more, I nodded and whispered, “okay.”

Chapter Eight

“Okay, so you know that there’s a man in your living room, right?” Marilyn chirped after she’d strutted into my bedroom, a large Chanel tote slung over her shoulder. She had been to visit me just before I’d been discharged from the hospital with Kallum in tow. Tears had filled her eyes as she’d muttered curses about men, about how every single one should have their cocks cut off. I’d never heard her speak with such anger, with such animosity before.

It had hit me in a place very deep down, a very vulnerable place where nobody other than my Aunt V had reached in such a visceral way. I’d managed to hold in my tears, fearing they wouldn’t stop once they started.



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