Vice (The Untouchables MC #8) Read Online Joanna Blake

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Insta-Love, Mafia, MC Tags Authors: Series: The Untouchables MC Series by Joanna Blake
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Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
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“Yes?” I asked, slightly annoyed by the smug look he was giving me.

“Do you want coffee?”

“Yes, I do” I said, giving him a peevish look.

“Then kindly allow me to make it for you,” he said with a wide smile, clearly on the brink of laughing at me. I wasn’t sure anyone had ever laughed at me, with the exception of my cousins, who were annoying arrogant and the few relatives I actually liked, despite their macho, old school attitudes.

Not that I had seen any of them in almost a decade.

“You are in the way,” he added, crooking his eyebrow in an infuriating way.

He reached out and put his hands around my waist. I opened my mouth in shock as he lifted me up and moved me a foot to the left. I shut my mouth, realizing I had been blocking the coffee maker. I was so annoyed and frustrated that I nearly stomped my foot.

It wasn’t my fault he was so damned distracting!

I crossed my arms, stepping away and pretending not to be horribly embarrassed. I was practically vibrating with emotions, but I couldn’t really tell what they were. But I realized with a start for the first time in over a week, that I was not afraid.

Not even a little bit.

Thankfully Vice seemed completely oblivious. He leaned against the counter and stared at me, while the soft sound of the coffee machine starting to percolate filled the room. I did my best to ignore him until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?”

“It’s hard to believe you are actually here. I’ve been on your trail for a while. You were not easy to find.”

“Oh.”

“Impressive as hell, Anastasia.”

“I… thank you?” I stammered, once again feeling the heat rise to my face.

“I was worried about you,” he said, sounding strangely intimate. Like he knew me. Like we were family, or something else. Something important to each other.

“Can you explain again what is happening here…” I asked, almost afraid for the answer. “Assuming I can trust your answer, of course.”

“Of course. You would be wise not to trust me. But you were also wise when you decided to come with me. Not that I would have given you a choice,” he added with a crooked smile. I felt my insides flip over. That smile did something crazy to my insides.

“How do you know you would have won?” I asked, my pride bristling a bit.

He just stared at me, his warm hazel eyes somehow mocking and appreciative at the same time. He was definitely arrogant, but not obnoxiously so. He didn’t stand up or show me his height and his muscles. He didn’t have to. My question had been childish in the extreme.

Of course he would have won. He knew it. I knew it. It was my pride that made me voice it aloud.

“You could beat me. If you were packing.”

“Packing?”

“You didn’t have a gun. That is the great equalizer.”

“I hate guns,” I said, surprised at my vehemence.

“That’s unfortunate, considering how part of my plan is to teach you how to use one.”

I gave him a suspicious look. He hadn’t mentioned my family and their vast history of unspeakable violence and corruption, much of which I had been kept largely in the dark about. Until recently.

“Plan for what?”

“To keep you safe.”

“You said that you planned on doing that,” I said, crossing my arms. It was still hard to believe his declaration. He wasn’t a knight in shining armor.

They did not exist in modern times. Did they?

“To keep you safe, in case something happens to me.”

My mouth opened slightly and his smile widened. He liked surprising me, I realized. He was enjoying this. Enjoying our banter.

Not that we were exactly Hepburn and Tracy. I was too shocked by everything he was saying to have a sparkling wit.

“I don’t understand. Didn’t my father hire you to find me?”

“He did,” Vice said, turning around to pour us each a cup of coffee. He made mine exactly how I liked it without asking. Cream but no sugar. Not quite milky. Just enough to soften the bitterness. I stared at the cup as he handed it to me, my mind whirling. How had he known? “And I did find you,” he continued. “But I have no intention of handing you over to him.”

“Is this a ransom situation?” I asked, my heart starting to thud. He was still acting casually. He was completely non threatening, as he poured himself a cup, added some sugar, and took a sip. He took his coffee black with a tiny pinch of sugar. Hot and sweet.

“No. This is a right and wrong thing. It’s about justice.”

“Justice?”

“Yes. I don’t like what the fuck he is trying to do to you. Apologies for the bad word,” he added. “I know you were raised by nuns.”

Now my jaw really did drop.


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