Ty (Hell’s Handlers MC Florida Chapter #6) Read Online Lilly Atlas

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors: Series: Hell’s Handlers MC Florida Chapter Series by Lilly Atlas
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
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Was that something she’d ever know?

The Handlers’ ol’ ladies were some of the luckiest women she’d met. They were relationship goals across the board.

Ty’s face floated into her mind, nearly making her lose her footing. None of what she dreamed would ever happen with him.

Then why was she starting to want it so badly?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TY STARED AT his cell phone with a frown. 11:02 a.m. Where was the text from Jinx?

For the past three days, his club brother texted him the same message at exactly eleven in the morning.

Hey, asshole, only text back if you’re dead. If shit is good, ignore this.

A dig over how he fell off the radar and a sincere check-in wrapped up in classic Jinx snark. Since he was coasting along, he hadn’t responded. The guys knew he’d contact them if he needed them.

But today, his phone remained mysteriously silent for the past two minutes. After another minute of scowling at the quiet device, Ty rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “He’s probably fucking busy running your business.”

He’d booked this bungalow until tomorrow with an option to extend since no one had it booked directly after him. But he’d been away long enough to pull his head out of his ass, not that he had, but late tomorrow morning, he’d head home so he could arrive back in Lithia by evening.

This trip had been, well, useless in a way. The plan was to hit the beach, surf, watch the waves, and do some thinking. That part he’d done in spades. His skin was now a nice golden brown from the hours spent outside in the waves, something he loved but didn’t do nearly enough. Running a business was a serious time suck.

The other goal he’d had for this little getaway was to shake Kelsie out of his head by getting someone else on his dick. And in that part of his plan, he’d failed spectacularly. He might have gotten off many times, but all consisted of his hand and no one else’s. He’d tried, somewhat. Each night, he’d gotten dressed to go out. The main street was riddled with tiki bars full of prospective hookups. But then something kept him from leaving.

He'd run through a host of bullshit reasons for his hesitancy.

He was too old to go trolling for women.

One night, it was raining, and he didn’t want to get wet.

Another, there was an epic sunset he didn’t want to miss from the porch of his bungalow.

Pitiful excuses when he knew the real reason.

He was just too damn stubborn to admit it.

With a huff, he tossed his phone on the couch. As it bounced, it chimed as though he’d shaken the text message into his inbox.

Fucking Jinx.

Chuckling while shaking his head, he reached for the device. Sure enough, Jinx’s name flashed on the screen. Maybe he’d put the poor guy out of his misery and let him know he planned to return tomorrow.

He swiped the text open only to frown as he realized this one was longer than the others.

A man Kelsie knows tracked her down and approached her when she was shopping with the ladies. The gals don’t know what he wants, but he upset her. She’s not saying why.

It felt like granite entered his veins, stiffening his entire body. What the fuck? They knew little of Kelsie’s history except that she kept to herself and lived a quiet, simple life. He’d gotten the impression she was avoiding someone or maybe even running from something.

This man?

Was he an ex?

A stalker?

They also said he was smokin’ hot. Their words, not mine. I like pussy. Harper’s pussy.

Any other time, he’d have snickered at Jinx’s idiocy, but his entire brainpower was focused on this mystery man.

Who the fuck was he, and what did he want with Kelsie?

The urge to call and ask her those very questions hit strong, but she’d probably tell him to fuck off after the way he’d disappeared without a word. And he’d deserve it.

“Goddammit,” he shouted as he snatched a pillow off the couch and sent it hurtling across the room. “Guess I’m riding back today.”

Nine hours later, he killed the engine on his bike in front of the clubhouse. Traffic had been a bitch. He was dusty, hungry, and needed a stiff drink almost as much as he needed to pound on whoever this asshole was that fucking stalked Kelsie. If anyone got in his path on the way to the bar, they might not like the outcome.

He yanked the door to the clubhouse open and stopped dead in his tracks. The scene before him almost had him backing out the door to check if he had the right location.

“What the fuck?” he whispered.

All the tables had been shoved to the sides of the room. Where they used to be, two large trashcans had been placed side by side. Two of his brothers, Lock and Pulse, stood about fifteen feet from them. Brenna sat on her old man’s shoulders, laughing as she threw beachball after beachball toward the trashcan, only sinking one. But what caught his attention was the woman atop Pulse’s shoulders. Though he knew her, Kelsie was barely recognizable from the woman he rescued months ago or the woman he’d visited in the hospital. She laughed so hard she could barely hang onto the beachballs as Jo tossed them up to her. None came close to landing in the trashcan, but that only made her and Brenna laugh harder. The others cheered them on, encouraging the madness.


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