In the Gray Read Online B.B. Reid

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Suspense, Taboo Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)


I know what they say. Grief makes you do things.
After the year I’ve had, I’m bathing in it.
Dad’s dead.
Mom is…mom.
My boyfriend and best friend are too busy screwing to comfort me.
When a letter arrives with no return address telling me where to go for a new start, I don’t hesitate.
I pack some clothes and what’s left of my life and run.
But I didn’t expect the fire waiting for me when I arrived. I didn’t count on the burn.
Rowdy Wray.
They call him the lion of Idlewild.
Me…I call him boss.
He’s the key to my past and the path to my future.
What happens next is our twisted secret.


Who is this girl?
Atlas Beck.
This damaged young thing shows up at my place of business and tells me she’s my new receptionist.
I should have fired her.
I would have fired her if she hadn’t begged so beautifully.
Atlas told me not to let her go, but she didn’t know what she was asking. And now?
It’s too late to put the crazy back in its cage.

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

It was still there.

The old factory across the street.

The red brick building loomed three stories high, dominating this tiny low-income corner of Idlewild. I’d been lingering on the sidewalk on the opposite side of Temperance Street, watching the locals come and go. The cold rain had soaked through my hair and clothes, but at least it had hidden my tears.

Relieved that I hadn’t made this trip in vain, my guard lowered for a second, enough time to embrace the kernel of hope blooming in my chest at finding this once-derelict edifice still standing.

A second was all it took for my mind to drift.

And for the still-healing wound to rip open again and bleed my grief all over the pavement.


Lowering my gaze, I studied the faded photo in my hand once more. It was the only clue that I was at the right place.

There were differences, of course.

According to the date artfully written on the back in a feminine script, it had been twenty years since the photo was taken. The arched windows were no longer broken, the dead grass had been restored and shorn, the crumbling brick refortified, and the missing parts of the roof had been replaced.

But it was the massive basalt statue on the front lawn that had caught my attention and confirmed I’d found it—them.


Four of them.

One roaring, one hunting, one searching, and one still.

Carved in the black rock were three words that sent a chill down my spine.

Pride of Kings.

I shivered and reminded myself that it was winter, and even Mississippi was cold in January. This had to be the coldest winter I could remember in a long time.

I ignored the warning creeping down my spine as I surveyed the building, searching for a way in.

Of course, I could just walk through the front doors and pretend I needed my car repaired, but that wouldn’t get me close to the Kings. It probably wouldn’t even get me in the same room as them, and it wasn’t as if I could walk right up and say, “Hey, we need to talk.”

Their reputation preceded them even hundreds of miles away, where their names were mentioned with the same reverence as a platinum-selling rapper or professional athlete. Except they weren’t. The Kings were four ordinary men working ordinary blue-collar jobs—or would have been if not for their outlandish moniker.

My limited funds also meant paying for repairs I didn’t need wasn’t an option.

How much it had cost the Kings to gut and modernize the old factory to make room for the thriving mechanic shop? The outside still maintained some of its rugged appearances, blending in with the rest of the neighborhood as if the new owners hadn’t dared be caught gentrifying.

A woman dressed in business attire left the building, and the sign on the door caught my eye as it swung closed behind her.

It should have bothered me that I barely considered what I’d do if I actually succeeded before darting across the two-lane street, but it didn’t. This was the least reckless thing I’d done since I got that photo a week ago. It was just after noon, so the lunchtime traffic rush made not getting run over a task, but I somehow made it safely across, barreling through the front doors and into the waiting room before I could reconsider.

It wasn’t as if I had anything left to lose.

The circulating heat slapped me in the face, and a few seconds later, I could feel the stabbing tingling in my toes and fingers as my frozen limbs began to thaw.

I took a wary look around.

The shop seemed even larger inside, with its tall ceilings and mostly open space. There was a wall of glass, interrupted only by a blue metal door marked Employees Only, behind the U-shaped reception desk. The window separated the waiting room from the workshop, where I could see the mechanics hard at work.

Facing the reception desk was another set of double doors leading out to the side of the building and drop-off area. Waiting on the other side, with only heat lamps and thick winter coats bearing the Pride of Kings logo to warm them, were the two young valet boys I’d glimpsed during my hour-long recon.

I spotted more chairs and tables where customers who’d chosen to wait for their repairs lounged comfortably. A few were perusing the well-stocked coffee and snack bar on the far side of the room. Adjacent, on either side, was a storage closet and bathrooms.

“Hello. Welcome to Pride of Kings. How can I help you?”

I followed the high-pitched sound and spotted a petite white girl with inviting blue eyes and blonde braided pigtails behind the receptionist’s desk. Her peach-painted lips moved at a pace too fast for me to keep up, and I just stared until it got weird fast.

My first thought was that she was pretty. Young too. She couldn’t have been older than her late-twenties.