Slash (Shady Valley Henchmen #3) Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Biker, Contemporary, MC, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Shady Valley Henchmen Series by Jessica Gadziala

Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)

We had an arrangement.
That’s all it was.
All it ever could be.
Just fun, casual.

I even tried to convince myself that it was all I wanted from him—the scarred, rough-around-the-edges outlaw biker with “bad news” written all over him—but as time went on, there was no denying that I started to want more.

I just couldn’t have it.

Until my past suddenly came back to haunt my present, sending me into the arms of the only man I knew that could help me…

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************


Prologue - past


My car was jam-packed full of crap that my aunt had shoved at me as I’d been leaving.

A lamp with a shade made from black, brown, and white feathers her chickens had dropped during molting seasons, a bird bath she’d made out of giant terra cotta pots that she’d painstakingly painted in deep, moody colors she knew I would love.

I didn’t have the heart to remind her that I lived in an apartment and didn’t have anywhere to put the bird bath. I figured I could give it to a friend. Barring that, I was reasonably sure the Murphy brothers wouldn’t even notice if I set it up in their backyard.

She’d also given me hand-made quilts, old records, a box of old hangers, and two closets worth of hand-me-down clothes. Most of it was going to go to the local charity shop, save for one of the quilts that perfectly matched my general style.

On top of that, there were half a dozen houseplants that she’d propagated from her big mama plants. I would take those. And attempt not to kill them. I didn’t have a great track record with plants. I liked the ones that seemed to enjoy neglect. I had a spider plant and a pothos that had been going strong for years despite me only remembering to water them once a month. If that.

These plants looked finicky. But I would give them my best, absentminded chance.

I really should have driven through, gone straight back to Shady Valley. I had a month’s worth of errands to run thanks to the newest bartender not being able to cut it, so I’d been taking extra shifts.

Great for my bank account.

Hell for my life.

But that was just it, I guess.

I didn’t really have much of a life anymore.

Which was what had me driving into the heart of Vegas instead of going home.

I wanted one night without chores, responsibilities, or work.

A couple of drinks. That fantastic endless pasta bar. Maybe some dancing or a show.

Then it was right back to Shady Valley.

I had about half a dozen people to interview for the bartender opening bright and early the next morning.

Grabbing my purse, I climbed out of my car and went to my trunk, grabbing the overnight bag I always kept around, just in case. A change of clothes, some snacks, condoms, and cash.

I got myself a room, took a couple of minutes to throw on some makeup and change out of “seeing my aunt who I was pretty sure was starting to steadily lose her grip on reality” clothes to my “maybe I can get some ass” clothes. Meaning the typical little black dress—heavy on the tits, but with a decently modest hemline—and high red heels that matched my lipstick.

Add a splash of perfume, fluff the hair, grab my bag, and I was heading downstairs to the bar.

It was there that I saw a familiar face.

Pretty boy, lots of ink, charm oozing out of his pores.


And he was absolutely surrounded by women.

A smile tugged at my lips as I watched him seamlessly juggle four women at once.

It wasn’t even the first time.

Even though Shady Valley was a reasonably smallish town, he somehow always managed to have all the women surrounding him. It was a skill that never failed to impress me.

I mean, they weren’t always even young, impressionable chicks who fell for a throwaway compliment.

He could charm the intelligent, successful older women as well. Ones who had been around the block a few times, who knew all the roads and where they led.

They still ate it up.

Personally, I liked my guys with darker hair and even darker souls.

But even I could admit he was hot.

And if he caught me in a vulnerable enough moment, I was sure I could fall for it all too.

My gaze slid around the bar, finding Crow and Detroit having a conversation over a few beers.

Riff and Raff, as usual, were nowhere to be found. The absent biker brothers. Always on the road.

I thought maybe Slash had found a chick to take to bed before I found him near the corner of the bar, watching a trio of pretty chicks whose sashes said they were part of a bachelorette party. The actual bride was part of Sway’s little posse of women.

He seemed to be struggling with his decision for a moment before making his way toward them.

One girl saw him, her face fell, then she’d nudged her friends, who all looked as well, before they all scurried away.

A sigh escaped me as I watched Slash nod his head, as if he knew they were going to spook and run off.

Then he turned, went back to the bar, and sat, shoulders down, back hunched, head down. Dejected.

I’d seen the same scene more than a few times back at The Bog which he and his men frequented.