Saint’s Sinner (ROLLIN’ JOKERS MC #3) by Layla Dorine EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Layla Dorine
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
(Saint)
He who is without Sinn
“Relax.”
If there was ever a word spoken in the human language that had the
ability to cause the opposite effect it was intended to, relax was that word.
In fact, Saint couldn’t think of a single instance in the history of the word
relax where someone had responded to it by calming the fuck down. His
brother should know that but judging from the way Mark was kicked back
in his chair nursing his beer, he’d clearly forgotten what it was like to have
it uttered at him when he was stressed.
“Brutha,” Saint cautioned, slamming his empty bottle on the desk, and
taking satisfaction in seeing it shatter, “if you tell me to relax one more
time, I’m gonna forget we’re blood and kick your ass to the beach and
back.”
Mark didn’t even have the decency to look at him as he swallowed the
last of the liquid in his bottle. “Save your energy for when we find Sinn.”
“You mean if we find Sinn!”
“We’ll find him.”
“You can’t promise that!” Saint raged, “You can’t promise he’ll be
okay either!”
“No, but what I can promise is that whoever has done this will be made
to pay.”
Snarling, Saint slammed his hand down and wound up with a piece of
glass embedded in it. “And that’s supposed to be comforting?”
“Did I say…”
Saint cut Mark off by whipping a heavy glass ashtray at his head.
Fucker didn’t even have the good graces to try and get out of the way.
Would have been nice if he’d pretended it had come close to hitting him,
but Saint’s aim had always been shit when it came to throwing. Mark
probably figured moving would be what got him hit. That or he just didn’t
give a shit. He didn’t flinch when glass and plaster exploded outward from
the dent the ashtray put in the wall, nor did he twitch when shards slit his
cheek and sent blood spilling down it much like the flow trickling from
Saint’s wounded palm.
“If this was Teddy, Kat, or god forbid, one of my nephews, you’d have
destroyed half the town by now!” Saint roared.
“And you’d have been right there with me.”
“Then why the fuck aren’t we out their doing it now?”
The casual way Mark reached up and brushed glass fragments out of
his hair took Saint to a whole other level of pissed off. “Because we’re
older and supposed to be wiser at this point in our lives, and we both know
the cops are itching to swarm this place and lock us under the jail. Between
those fuckheads taking a shot at me in the diner and sending Lucky to the
hospital, and the brawl with Shaw’s crew, we’re on thin ice with the local
authorities, or have you forgotten the warning they issued when Kat bailed
us out that day?”
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