Deceiver (Prisoners of Purgatory MC #2) Read Online Bella Jewel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Dark, MC, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Prisoners of Purgatory MC Series by Bella Jewel
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Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
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God, he’s scary.

I thought Western could be stone cold and terrifying, but Colt has had many more years to master his rage and let me tell you, he has chipped it down to a fine art.

A huge fire blares off to the left of the house, full of what appears to be old furniture and bits of timber. It’s roaring, the heat radiating out. Beside that large fire, is Myla. She’s standing in a pair of tiny shorts, a bikini top, her hair bound up at the top of her head, a beer in her hand, and music pounding out of a speaker that is on a chair beside the fire. She’s wiggling around, her arms flying into the air as she bellows with pure joy.

She’s crazy.

I love it.

She has a free spirit, wild and untamed.

That is something you don’t find in many people.

Colt charges over, lifts the speaker into his hand and hauls it into the fire. My mouth drops open and a shocked laugh comes out as the black, expensive-looking device just flies into the raging fire. Myla’s arms drop to her side and she turns, mouth agape as she looks to Colt who is glaring at her in a way that would bring most people to their knees.

It suddenly falls silent as the fire consumes the speaker and sends it into oblivion.

“What sort of seizure did you just have, because that was expensive!” Myla shouts at Colt, her eyes flaring with rage.

“I don’t fuckin’ care what deal you made with your fuckin’ aunt to get this place, but I will tell you that you will be here and when you are, you will be fuckin’ silent.”

Myla straightens and puts a hand to her forehead. “Yes sir, boss sir.”

I wheeze, trying to contain my laughter. Western gives me a look of warning, but I can’t help it. This is too much entertainment and heaven knows I’ve needed something to make me laugh after what I’ve endured in the past few days.

Colt takes a step closer to her, his face a mere inches from hers. “Do not mouth off to me, little girl.”

“I suppose in comparison to your dinosaur age, I could be classed as little, but don’t ever call me a girl again, uncle.”

I wonder what the age gap between the two of them is? I know Colt had Western very young, he and Western’s mom were only fifteen when she fell pregnant with him. It’s a whole other story. My guess is that there would be around a twenty-year age gap, but with Colt looking as fine as he does, that is certainly not noticeable. Any woman with eyes and a vagina is going to notice him and wonder what it would be like to be consumed by him. He’s fire and age only makes him so much better.

“Call me that again,” Colt grinds out, “and I’ll lift you up and throw you into that fuckin’ fire.”

The self-control it is taking not to burst out laughing is tough, really tough.

“Whatever you say, uncle,” Myla mutters, turning back towards the fire.

“I’m not your fuckin’ uncle,” Colt barks and then steps towards her, slamming his shoulder into her tiny waist and hauling her up over his shoulder.

Her screeches can be heard as he charges towards the house.

Western turns to me. “That’s our queue.”

“Is she safe?” I tease.

Western shrugs. “She pokes the bear, she gets eaten.”

Oh boy.

We walk away from the fire and towards the path, heading back to the club. I wonder how things are going to unfold with the two of them. I make a note to go over and chat to Myla when things settle down, I’d love to hear more about it. Not to mention, I want to go into that old house and see what it’s like inside. The quick glance I saw of it, almost seems like it was left abandoned, not a single thing being moved as whatever happened unfolded.

Whatever it was, it must have been bad.

Colt has never come over here and he has never maintained this place. That alone tells me it must have done some kind of damage for him to cut it off this way.

What a twisted story it must be.

“Did you meet Chloe?” I ask Western as we get back to the club and he attempts to put the fence back in place.

“No, but I heard about her,” Western tells me. “Mom left and dad spent all his time fightin’ for me while I was in prison. He met Chloe durin’ that time, and they were together for a good while. Not sure what went down, but I know it was bad.”

“He never talked about it?”

Western shakes his head.

“How long did she own that house?”

“When we were kids it was abandoned. Then an old couple bought it but they passed, leavin’ it abandoned once more. Nobody wanted to live next to a club. Chloe owned it after that, as far as I know.”


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