Lassiter by J.R. Ward EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: J.R. Ward
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Genre: Werewolf & Shifter Romance
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
- Publish Date: April 11, 2023
11287 Gordon Memorial Parkway
Caldwell, New York
Does this make my ass look big?”
As the question was tossed out all casual, like it made any damned sense, Eddie
Blackhawk opened his mouth to answer. Then he shook his head. “I’m not sure
how to respond to that.”
“Come on.” His best friend, Adrian Vogel, motioned through the window of
the gray-and-black Mini Cooper. “Be honest.”
For a split second, an image of the guy looking up with expectation caught and
held in Eddie’s mind, a fishhook memory that was unnecessary after the centuries
they’d spent together: Ad was a hard-core handsome type, all the Hugh Jackman
anyone could want in the tall and dark department, just paired up with a Claire’s
boutique’s worth of silver piercings on the trailheads of his nose, his lower lip, his
outer ears. He’d shaved his head recently—because he’d bought a Manscaped
trimmer on account of the Pete Davidson ad and he didn’t have anything else to
shave—and his hair was already growing back in, a shadow over his skull. His
clothes were black and so was his jacket. So were his weapons, although like his
naughty bits, they were covered.
“Hello?” the other fallen angel prompted. “What do you think of me and the
car?”
“I’m amazed you can fit your posterior region in it.” Eddie glanced around the
wilted dealership. “Why are we here again?”
“Ass.” Adrian got out, his heavily muscled body expanding to its customary
height and width like it was reinflating after a vacuum-packing. “You can curse,
you know. It’s not going to kill you.”
Considering they were both immortals, the subject of what could unalive them
was moot—as was any practical opinion about this shoebox-sized toy that was
being marketed as roadworthy. And while Eddie glanced around for what felt like
the hundredth time, he would have appreciated an answer to his own question:
What the hell were they doing in this place? Between the fake wood paneling, the
faded pictures of eighties-era cars going all airborne around tight turns, and the
for-sale stock that looked like candidates for parts harvesting, he felt like they’d
been sucked back four decades and Kate Bush should be piped in as a new release,
notas athrowback soundtrack on Netflix.
Then again, they’d made their deal with God, hadn’t they. And with all the
progress they hadn’t been making over the last three years on their mission, why
not end up here? It was no more directed or random than any other place in
Caldwell.
“Hi,” a quiet voice said, “can I answer some questions about the Mini for
you?”
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