What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) Read Online Cherise Sinclair

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Sons of the Survivalist Series by Cherise Sinclair

Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Cherise Sinclair

Book Information:

She will risk everything to rescue her friend.
Frankie’s BFF and four-year-old son are trapped inside a fanatical militia’s compound. In Alaska, no less. Wilderness rescues are so not in the New Yorker’s skill set. But she’ll figure it out. She must.
Bull’s new roadhouse server is a mass of contradictions.
The city girl’s reasons for being in Alaska don’t add up. Bull’s been burned by liars before. So, why is he falling for this crap again? Maybe it’s her big brown eyes, exuberant personality—or her generous, compassionate heart. Whatever the reason is, he cares. If she’s in trouble, he’ll do his damnedest to get her out.
The huge Alaskan is terrifyingly compelling--and heartwarmingly concerned for her.
But Frankie refuses to involve Bull in the deadly mess. Her plan to rescue her bestie will work without anyone getting hurt. As she tries her best not to fall in love, she doggedly acquires each skill she’ll need.
Getting shot, though…that hadn’t been on her to-do list.
Books in Series:

Sons of the Survivalist Series by Cherise Sinclair

Books by Author:

Cherise Sinclair


The sweet smell of pineapple, coconut, and hot oil jerked nine-year-old Kana Peleki to a stop in front of the small, brick-fronted restaurant. “Dad?”

A woman bumped into him from behind, then stepped around him with an annoyed sigh.

He didn’t apologize. All he could see was the restaurant. All he could hear was an echo of a deep voice, “My little sous chef. Look, hold the knife this way...”

Kana shook his head hard. No, his father wouldn’t be in that restaurant making Samoan half-moon pies. Wouldn’t be giving that booming laugh and pulling over a stepstool so Kana could help.

Dad was dead. Gone.

Kana leaned against the building and scowled at his feet. Big feet.

“I can’t believe how fast you’re growing.”

Dad had said that too.

Would he even know me now? He’d grown a lot since his father died.

Because of that woman.

Anger roused inside him. Dad had died because the owner of the LA restaurant wanted him, always calling him her “handsome chef” and touching him. But after they’d done the sex stuff, she’d changed and got all mean and called Dad names and hit him, even though he never yelled back or anything.

In the car that night, she’d shouted at Dad and slapped him real hard. The car had gone sideways and—

Kana’s belly lurched, and he put his hand over his mouth. Heat ran over his skin, then cold, like he’d fallen in the icy stream outside Mako’s cabin.

Don’t puke.

He pulled in long breaths and fought off the sickness. He wasn’t a little kid anymore, not like when Dad died. He’d been in foster care, been on the LA streets. He was tough now, not a wimp.

He walked on.

“Hey, Bull. Bull.”

He jumped—because Gabe was yelling at him. Bull’s my name now.

Bull. Frigging good name, right? He puffed up his chest to look bigger. Yeah, by the time he was grown up, he’d be as big as the bull moose that Mako had shot last week. The one that had given Kana—no, Bull—his new name.

He raised his hand to show he’d heard Gabe but didn’t move. Did he want to hang out with his kinda-sorta foster brother—or the other two?

Mako called them a team. A-huh. Bull wasn’t so sure.

Okay, maybe the four of them had fought back against the foster home perv, even though they hardly knew each other. And when Mako said he’d bring them to Alaska and raise them, they’d all agreed. Better than being homeless on the streets, right?

It still didn’t make them no team or a family either.

“C’mon, Bull!” Dark-haired Gabe, a year older than Bull, motioned toward Caz and Hawk who were surrounded by big-ass teens. The pushy jerks weren’t a gang, though. Not here in bumfuck Seward.

Bull didn’t move. Did he want to get in a fight for the other boys in the sarge’s log cabin?

Gabe was okay. Bossier than anything, but he made up good games—and played fair. Made sure they all played fair.

Caz? Yeah, he was okay, too, even if he didn’t speak English so good. When a bird’s nest fell down off a tree, Caz kept the babies alive, getting up early to feed them and everything.

Hawk? Well, Hawk was weird. If anybody looked at him funny, he’d hit them. Bull had some good bruises since the kid hit hard. But he’d sneak bugs and worms to Caz’s baby birds…and then pretend he hadn’t. Why’d he want them to think he was an asshole?

Wondering what they thought of him, Bull waited to see what’d happen down the street.

Trash-talking, the local kids surrounded Caz and Hawk. “City brats. Go back to the Lower 48 where you belong.” The pimple-faced town boy must’ve been around fifteen, same as the other three circling Hawk and Caz.

Bull growled. Hawk was a jerk sometimes, and Caz just a shrimp, but they were all living together. Kinda makes them, like, mine, right?

“Ugly-face, don’cha got nothing to say?” Another teen poked his finger at the scar on Hawk’s face.

Caz slapped the kid’s arm away. “Chinga su madre, hijo de puta!”

The Alaska dumbasses got even madder. They could probably tell that he’d called them nasty names.

Caz had some guts.

Turning a pissed-off red, Hawk lifted his fists. Uh-oh. When he lost it, no one was safe.

As Bull headed toward the group, the fight busted out.

The pimple-faced kid punched Caz right in the face.

Hawk kicked the jerk’s leg, and then all the town kids jumped in.

Like that was fair?

With a yell, Gabe grabbed a bike from the sidewalk and clobbered one teen right off his feet.

“Go, Gabe!” Bull launched himself into the fight and hit a ginger in the side, knocking him onto his ass.

Next to Bull, Hawk pushed the asshole who’d called him ugly-face. Shoving his head into the kid’s chest, Hawk punched him in the gut, right-left-right-left. Getting hit back didn’t slow the crazy hawk down any. Screaming bloody murder, the teen fell over, got up, and ran like a chickenshit.