Hunter – Hell’s Bastards MC Read Online Sam Crescent

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Crime, MC, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
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“Speaking of Big Dick, I know this isn’t exactly club business, but while at the bakery earlier this week, Harlow started to ask me a whole bunch of questions.”

“I don’t need to deal with family shit,” Smokey said.

“I know, but I got curious and I know that’s the fucking kiss of death, but it happened.”

Hunter tensed up. What kind of questions was Harlow asking?

“You know the old beat-up apartment building she’s been living in?” Raven asked.

Smokey shook his head. “How the fuck should I know?”

Raven chuckled. “Okay, the deets. The landlord is charging her a fortune for a piece of shit apartment. She has no heat, no food, and is running into debt.”

“She told you this?” Hunter asked.

“No, she asked a bunch of unusual questions about rent and what it would cost, and the average rental for a place that sounded like shit. She made out it was some kind of business thing she was thinking of. I know Harlow. She doesn’t want to go to Big Dick about this.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Hunter said.

Raven turned to him and frowned. “You’ll deal with it.”

“Yeah, Smokey has too much shit on his plate right now, and you’ve got to deal with protection detail and if Carlos is coming, you’re going to be busy. I’ll take care of the landlord. Tell me what he’s done wrong, and I’ll fix it.”

Hunter was pissed off that Harlow hadn’t come to him. She hadn’t said a fucking word.

Smokey shooed them out of his office, and Raven pulled out her cell phone, handing it to him, and showing him all the details. Even Harlow’s bank statements.

She was actually in debt. There was no electricity going to her apartment, no gas, no heat. There wasn’t even a sign of grocery payments. Hunter thought about the diner, when she had a plate of fries and was looking through her purse, frowning. He had jumped in and paid the bill. He should have fucking known something was up.

“I’ll handle it,” Hunter said, about to make his way out, but Raven suddenly grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Tell me why you’re suddenly interested in handling this mundane kind of shit?” Raven asked.

“Because she’s Big Dick’s sister and I’ve got fuck all to do until I find where the Twisted Bastards MC are.”

“Is that all?”

“Why don’t you worry about keeping your husband in line and stop worrying about what I’m doing?”

“You know she has a thing for you, right?” Raven asked.

“So?”

“Be careful,” Raven said.

Hunter pulled out of her hold and made his way outside the club. He climbed back in his car because he wasn’t interested in riding his bike in the fucking cold and freezing his balls off. There was only so much he would do.

Climbing behind the wheel, he turned over the ignition and then headed out, going toward Harlow’s apartment building. They all knew it because Big Dick had told them where his sister was living. From what he could fathom, Harlow had told Big Dick to stay out of her business, so this is what he was doing.

Hunter pulled into the available parking to the apartment, and there was no denying it was a shithole. Climbing out of his car, he made his way toward the tower block. Harlow’s name was there on the intercom, clear to see. The doors should be locked as a security measure, but when he tried it, the door opened right away. Harlow didn’t even have that limited protection, which pissed him off.

He knew exactly where to go, seeing as it was labeled where the landlord was.

Knocking on the door, he heard someone call out that they would be right there. A large man in a stained shirt opened the door. He had messy hair that hadn’t been cut or washed, and layers of grease had accumulated, giving it an almost matted look.

“Who are you?” the landlord asked, looking him up and down.

“We’ve got to talk.” He pressed his palm against the door, and the other guy was no match for him as he pushed his way into the apartment. The stench of sweat, piss, and shit was heavy in the air.

“I got no problem with you. What do you want?” the landlord asked.

“Harlow Erickson. Does the name ring a bell?” Hunter asked.

“What the fuck has she done?”

Hunter tutted. “It’s not what the fuck has she done, but you.”

This man—no, not man, piece of filth—had taken advantage of Harlow’s naivete. Big Dick had told them at Christmas that life for Harlow wasn’t always easy with her parents. She had gotten out as soon as she could, tried to be independent, and fucking assholes like this man made life way too hard for her to cope, and it sickened him.

“How much do you charge her rent?” Hunter asked.

The man gave a figure, and that was a lie. Swinging out, the first blow landed to the face. The landlord collapsed on the sofa, which Hunter was pretty sure something crawled out of when he touched it.


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